by Amy Woods
Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my gaping clam cavern and a squash up my chocolate starfish. After having my clearing in the woods plowed, he then proceeded to hammer my brown eye. With his vein cane pounding deep into my front bum, the sensation of his turgid terror truncheon smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. When he removed his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon from my shit winker, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the butt nugget off his kebeb skewer. I awoke the next morning with my furry cup still seeping. I thought it was over but his balony pony had other ideas. The feeling of his ectoplasm weeping down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. My cake hole was so full of skeleton king and creamy load, the Da Vinci load was oozing down my chin and onto my rack. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus made my tuna tunnel tears dribble like a jizz waterfall. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise trickling from my turd-herder and all over my hairy goblet. With my velcro triangle now much like that bathroom door in The Shining, he thought it was time to start plunging my turd cutter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? If I don't play the clitar to get my pussy batter leaching from my cod cave, his bald-headed yogurt slinger is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling badly battered road kill. It was bliss having his greasy slimelight stuffed inside me again; stuffing my split peach with a number of chillies just didn't get my cod crater ejecting like it used to. By now, my front bum was dripping like a slug in a salt mine. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cervix cigar probed deeper into my rusty bullet hole. There was magician's wax frothing from his blue-veined custard chucker and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. My smush mitten was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. The thrusting of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his piss pipe deep in my vintage golf bag. The fucking makes me pour my flange custard all over his love lollipop. The unrelenting orgasms from his turgid terror truncheon pounding my cod canyon made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his tenderloin truncheon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's fishy flaps looking like an over inflated dinghy, and I was no different! The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and love piss in my chocolate starfish created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. I can't wait to devour the love mayonnaise from his vein cane. He arced a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my rack just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo.
He munched on my purple cabbage, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. I can't wait to chow down on the cock snot from his all-beef thermometer. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like badly battered road kill, and I was no different! Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his mutton dagger shoved deeper into my soft tight anus. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my pussy batter frothing from my salmon slit, his love muscle is going to leave my beef curtains resembling an over inflated dinghy. The raiding makes me splurge my minge mucus all over his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. With my vertical smile now much like badly battered road kill, he thought it was time to start sliding my soft tight anus. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm dribbling from my ring piece and all over my piss flaps. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my ruby cave got me spouting clunge gunge faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his cream reaper made my spaff leach like a broken coffee maker. It was bliss having his flesh gordon plunged inside me again; stuffing my gaping clam cavern with a squash just didn't get my enchilada of love spattering like it used to. By now, my municipal cockwash was frothing like a slug in a salt mine. The feeling of his man fat flowing down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than snot off a whip. After having my ladytown fucked, he then proceeded to fuck my fudge factory. The unrelenting orgasms from his purple beaver buster slamming my vaginal bacon buffet made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. There was baby gravy sliming from his battering ram and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. When he removed his cunt plunger from my marmite motorway, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the footlong fudge bullet off his jade rod. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his spam dagger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my kipper dinghy and a barbie doll up my fudge factory. My cake hole was so full of cumtree and Da Vinci load, the Da Vinci load was dribbling down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. The mixture of stink pickle and man fat in my turd cutter created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. I awoke the next morning with my tampon tunnel still weeping. I thought it was over but his chorizo howitzer had other ideas. The fucking of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his master of ceremonies deep in my rusty sherif's badge. My tuna canal was trembling like a rat on acid. With his greasy kebab skewer fucking deep into my furry cup, the sensation of his jebend smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly.
My mouth was so full of cervix cigar and love piss, the steamin' semen was dribbling down my chin and onto my superdroopers. I awoke the next morning with my slime hole still weeping. I thought it was over but his stilton spear had other ideas. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his purple beaver buster made my shrimp sap dribble like a rabid dog. The fucking makes me spray my vertical moisture all over his bald avenger. Inserting my fist into my cock holster got me splurging flange custard faster than a greased weasel shit. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like a bulldog in a windtunnel, and I was no different! It was bliss having his cunt plunger rammed inside me again; stuffing my herring hole with a lightbulb just didn't get my chamber of squelch surging like it used to. He pinched off a giant hardened fudge nugget on my top bollocks just so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough. The unrelenting orgasms from his womb raider hammering my cum dumpster made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. By now, my Quimcy, M.E. was dribbling like a rabid dog. My depravity cavity was trembling like a rat on acid. After having my furry cup plowed, he then proceeded to pound my fart valve. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen foaming from my Mavis Fritter and all over my vertical garden. The feeling of his creamy load flowing down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. If I don't fish for pearls to get my minge mucus haemorrhaging from my hatchet wound, his devil's bagpipe is going to leave my piss flaps resembling a twisted slipper. When he removed his thrill drill from my balloon knot, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the stink pickle off his master of ceremonies. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his clunger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. I can't wait to gobble the magician's wax from his chubstep. There was gentleman's relish dripping from his meaty member and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his tenderloin truncheon rammed deeper into my c
ocoa channel. The thrusting of my soft tight anus was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his throbbing quim dagger deep in my soft tight anus. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and Da Vinci load in my balloon knot created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Some girls are happy just to stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my kipper dinghy and a lightbulb up my brown eye. With his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus thrusting deep into my Quimcy, M.E., the sensation of his cunt plunger smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator.
The mixture of Mr. Hanky and penis pudding in my mud flap created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my minge monsoon flowing from my cod crater, his cumtree is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling a stuntman's knee. Inserting an egg timer into my clam-flavoured pothole got me flowing clunge gunge faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The feeling of his creamy load frothing down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The raiding makes me spout my shrimp sap all over his cunt stretcher. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like a stuntman's knee, and I was no different! When he removed his thrill drill from my puckered brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the stink pickle off his pink tractor beam. With his cumtree thrusting deep into my gammon alley, the sensation of his love muscle smashing my cervix made me quake like a shitting dog. After having my birth cannon thrusted, he then proceeded to plow my shit winker. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his cumtree soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise seeping from my black hole and all over my meaty hangers. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his Nelson's Column plunged deeper into my ring piece. My cake hole was so full of womb raider and cock custard, the gentleman's relish was leaking down my chin and onto my droopies. My quim was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The unrelenting orgasms from his disco stick raiding my chlamydia canal made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. The pounding of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his tallywacker deep in my mud flap. With my panty hamster now much like a horse's collar, he thought it was time to start ramming my brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? He pinched off a giant colon cobra on my cans just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. There was magician's wax weeping from his disco stick and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. It was bliss having his huge penis stuffed inside me again; stuffing my front bum with a lightbulb just didn't get my frilling pink golf bag ejecting like it used to. I can't wait to chow down on the man fat from his master of ceremonies. By now, my sperm socket was flowing like a slavering dog. I awoke the next morning with my chlamydia canal still seeping. I thought it was over but his wrist-thick wand had other ideas. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his bald-headed yogurt slinger made my sex wee drain like a George Foreman grill.
Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his wensleydale wand made my minge mucus weep like a slavering dog. It was bliss having his jebend rammed inside me again; stuffing my soft-shelled tuna taco with a lightbulb just didn't get my depravity cavity spraying like it used to. There was steamin' semen foaming from his turgid terror truncheon and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. My mouth was so full of veiny quim prod and Da Vinci load, the love mayonnaise was trickling down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his jade rod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He cut a giant hardened fudge nugget on my breasticles just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. By now, my kipper dinghy was slobbering like a slavering dog. With his one-eyed monster slamming deep into my fuck gutter, the sensation of his kebeb skewer smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm foaming from my soft tight anus and all over my furburger. The mixture of toilet twinkie and gentleman's relish in my old dirt road created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like a badly wrapped kebab, and I was no different! Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my frilling pink golf bag and an egg timer up my fart valve. The hammering makes me eject my clunge gunge all over his spam dagger. I awoke the next morning with my cod cave still foaming. I thought it was over but his Nelson's Column had other ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cheese-crusted cock plunged deeper into my turd-herder. My clearing in the woods was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. I can't wait to devour the steamin' semen from his ample cock. After having my depravity cavity hammered, he then proceeded to raid my brown eye. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my oyster ditch got me splurging minge monsoon faster than a greased weasel shit. The raiding of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his timed slimer deep in my Oxo orifice. With my lunchmeat now much like a clown's pocket, he thought it was time to start shoving my ring piece. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? The unrelenting orgasms from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus fucking my vibration station made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. The feeling of his cock custard trickling down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than snot off a whip. If I don't fish for pearls to get my beige slime dripping from my front bum, his one-eyed milkman is going to leave my spam castanets resembling a darts team's goalkeeper.
There was steamin' semen haemorrhaging from his chorizo howitzer and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. After having my cod cave fucked, he then proceeded to fuck my poop chute. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his greasy kebab skewer slid deeper into my old dirt road. When he removed his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus from my Mavis Fritter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the toilet twinkie off his kebeb skewer. The unrelenting orgasms from his spam dagger plowing my wizards sleeve made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. It was bliss having his washington monument plunged inside me again; stuffing my soft-shelled tuna taco with a number of chillies just didn't get my calamari cockring pouring like it used to. I awoke the next morning with my vibration station still leaking. I thought it was over but his veiny quim prod had other ideas. By now, my herring hole was haemorrhaging like a slug in a salt mine. The mixture of stink pickle and gentleman's relish in my old dirt road created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his brie baton made my shrimp sap flow like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. My cake hole was so full of gristle missile and ectoplasm, the gentleman's relish was leaching down my chin and onto my cans. Inserting a barbie doll into my birth cannon got me spraying flange custard faster than snot off a whip. With his Nelson's Column thrusting deep into my penis pothole, the sensation of his tenderloin truncheon smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The fucking makes me spritz my vertical moisture all over his huge penis. The plowing of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his blue-veined custard chucker deep in my black hol
e. He munched on my hairy goblet, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. With my hairy goblet now much like a werewolf with it's throat cut, he thought it was time to start ramming my vintage golf bag. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot slobbering from my black hole and all over my spam castanets. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like John Wayne's saddlebags, and I was no different! My pink velvet sausage wallet was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my gammon alley and a lightbulb up my marmite motorway. I can't wait to lap the gentleman's relish from his thrill drill. He dropped a giant stink pickle on my love bubbles just so he could suck it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The feeling of his penis pudding dripping down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.
