by Amy Woods
The pounding of my poop chute was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his master of ceremonies deep in my soft tight anus. The feeling of his love piss frothing down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his one-eyed monster soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My cod crater was trembling like a shitting dog. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my cod canyon and an egg timer up my chocolate starfish. With my vertical smile now much like a sand blasted tomato, he thought it was time to start probing my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? By now, my herring hole was draining like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his muffbuster plunged deeper into my poo pipe. There was love mayonnaise slobbering from his kebeb skewer and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. I awoke the next morning with my pink velvet sausage wallet still oozing. I thought it was over but his skeleton king had other ideas. When he removed his spam javelin from my poop chute, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the corn-eyed butt snake off his cervix cigar. My throat was so full of wrist-thick wand and ectoplasm, the magician's wax was sliming down my chin and onto my chesticles. It was bliss having his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus stuffed inside me again; stuffing my kipper dinghy with my fist just didn't get my gaping clam cavern surging like it used to. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my clam-flavoured pothole got me gushing minge mucus faster than snot off a whip. After having my chamber of squelch thrusted, he then proceeded to slam my black hole. The fucking makes me gush my shrimp sap all over his skin flute. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding dribbling from my marmite motorway and all over my spam castanets. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his giggle stick made my sex wee leach like a jizz waterfall. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like a dropped burrito, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his turgid terror truncheon slamming my front bum made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. He arced a giant Mr. Hanky on my fiery biscuits just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo. With his devil's bagpipe plowing deep into my furry cup, the sensation of his wrist-thick wand smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. I can't wait to suck the Da Vinci load from his thrill drill. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and cock custard in my balloon knot created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of.
The fucking of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his all-beef thermometer deep in my Mavis Fritter. My front bum was trembling like a shitting dog. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and magician's wax in my tradesman's entrance created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my spunk dungeon and a number of chillies up my shit winker. By now, my enchilada of love was frothing like a slavering dog. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his blue-veined custard chucker soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. There was love mayonnaise trickling from his stilton spear and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. I can't wait to lap the love mayonnaise from his balony pony. When he removed his mutton dagger from my fart valve, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the footlong fudge bullet off his stilton spear. The feeling of his cock snot frothing down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. It was bliss having his Nelson's Column stuffed inside me again; stuffing my ladytown with an egg timer just didn't get my tuna canal spritzing like it used to. Inserting an antique doorknob into my clearing in the woods got me squirting vertical moisture faster than snot off a whip. After having my whispering eye raided, he then proceeded to raid my old dirt road. With his purple-headed trouser snake raiding deep into my wizards sleeve, the sensation of his blind butler smashing my cervix made me quake like a shitting dog. My mouth was so full of chubstep and love piss, the love piss was leaking down my chin and onto my chest puppies. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax slobbering from my vintage golf bag and all over my spam castanets. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his ample cock made my spaff froth like a broken coffee maker. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. If I don't strum the banjo to get my beige slime leaching from my chlamydia canal, his spam dagger is going to leave my velcro triangle resembling a twisted slipper. The unrelenting orgasms from his bugger king plowing my gashtray made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. I awoke the next morning with my soft-shelled tuna taco still slobbering. I thought it was over but his one-eyed monster had other ideas. He dropped a giant footlong fudge bullet on my chest puppies just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. The raiding makes me squirt my spaff all over his ramrod. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his jebend shoved deeper into my marmite motorway. With my beef curtains now much like a bulldog in a windtunnel, he thought it was time to start sliding my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a Mr. Hanky, I wondered?
He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like a bulldog licking piss from a thistle, and I was no different! The mixture of sewer trout and man fat in my puckered brown eye created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my enchilada of love and a number of chillies up my old dirt road. My throat was so full of battering ram and penis pudding, the magician's wax was slobbering down my chin and onto my droopies. My oyster ditch was trembling like a shitting dog. With my panty hamster now much like Brian May's plughole, he thought it was time to start plunging my old dirt road. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a toilet twinkie, I wondered? Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his spam javelin made my minge monsoon haemorrhage like a jizz waterfall. The feeling of his cock custard flowing down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The hammering of my vintage golf bag was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his spunk-filled spam rocket deep in my shit winker. By now, my cod canyon was weeping like a broken coffee maker. If I don't fish for pearls to get my spaff dribbling from my south mouth, his spunk-filled spam rocket is going to leave my flappy meal resembling a sand blasted tomato. When he removed his tenderloin truncheon from my brown mile, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the butt nugget off his skeleton king. Inserting an antique doorknob into my ladytown got me splurging minge mucus faster than a greased weasel shit. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish weeping from my rusty bullet hole and all over my flappy meal. There was cock snot oozing from his jebend and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. With his pink tractor beam plowing deep into my whispering eye, the sensation of his purple-headed trouser snake smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his washington monument soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to devour the cock snot from his giggle stick. The unrelenting orgasms from his womb ferret fucking my vaginal bacon buff
et made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. The slamming makes me spout my flange custard all over his cunt plunger. I awoke the next morning with my pink velvet sausage wallet still foaming. I thought it was over but his cunt plunger had other ideas. He blasted a giant Mr. Hanky on my mammaries just so he could chow down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cream reaper shoved deeper into my ring piece. It was bliss having his stilton spear shoved inside me again; stuffing my soft-shelled tuna taco with my fist just didn't get my salmon slit spritzing like it used to.
With my panty hamster now much like the south end of a badger going north, he thought it was time to start sliding my puckered brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a colon cobra, I wondered? Some girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my ground zero grotto and an egg timer up my shit winker. The feeling of his cock custard oozing down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than snot off a whip. My cake hole was so full of mutton dagger and love mayonnaise, the penis pudding was seeping down my chin and onto my top bollocks. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and cock custard in my old dirt road created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. The slamming of my brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights joining his greasy kebab skewer deep in my rusty sherif's badge. I can't wait to gobble the cock custard from his cervix cigar. The slamming makes me spit my pussy batter all over his flesh gordon. If I don't buff the muff to get my vertical moisture dripping from my south mouth, his brie baton is going to leave my beef curtains resembling a darts team's goalkeeper. With his cumtree fucking deep into my vibration station, the sensation of his wrist-thick wand smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like Terry Waite's allotment, and I was no different! He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his devil's bagpipe plunged deeper into my cocoa channel. I awoke the next morning with my hot pocket still dribbling. I thought it was over but his greasy slimelight had other ideas. It was bliss having his bugger king plunged inside me again; stuffing my calamari cockring with an egg timer just didn't get my vaginal bacon buffet flowing like it used to. After having my meat purse hammered, he then proceeded to hammer my puckered brown eye. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm leaching from my fart valve and all over my fishy flaps. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his purple-headed trouser snake soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The unrelenting orgasms from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus thrusting my bearded haddock pasty made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. When he removed his balony pony from my fart valve, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the stink pickle off his balony pony. There was creamy load haemorrhaging from his timed slimer and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. He eased out a giant stink pickle on my rack just so he could consume it up like a pig at a trough. Inserting a squash into my ruby cave got me spritzing flange custard faster than snot off a whip. By now, my soft-shelled tuna taco was frothing like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his wrist-thick wand made my tuna tunnel tears slobber like a hungry pig at a trough.
With his washington monument pounding deep into my penis pothole, the sensation of his Nelson's Column smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his tallywacker slid deeper into my puckered brown eye. The unrelenting orgasms from his devil's bagpipe raiding my gaping clam cavern made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. By now, my cum dumpster was dripping like a slavering dog. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm trickling from my fudge factory and all over my purple cabbage. Some girls are happy just to play the clitar when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my kipper dinghy and my fist up my ring piece. I awoke the next morning with my wizards sleeve still seeping. I thought it was over but his spam javelin had other ideas. When he removed his greasy slimelight from my soft tight anus, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the sewer trout off his thrill drill. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like a badly wrapped kebab, and I was no different! If I don't flick the bean to get my pussy batter foaming from my whispering eye, his veiny quim prod is going to leave my vertical smile resembling that bathroom door in The Shining. There was love mayonnaise haemorrhaging from his one-eyed milkman and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. My birth cannon was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. With my purple cabbage now much like a shot cat, he thought it was time to start shoving my rusty bullet hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a colon cobra, I wondered? I can't wait to suck the cock snot from his devil's bagpipe. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his huge penis made my pussy batter slobber like a George Foreman grill. The pounding of my tradesman's entrance was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his skeleton king deep in my Mavis Fritter. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his sperminator soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting my fist into my chlamydia canal got me squirting vertical moisture faster than a greased weasel shit. My throat was so full of blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon and baby gravy, the ectoplasm was leaching down my chin and onto my top bollocks. The mixture of butt nugget and penis pudding in my brown mile created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. It was bliss having his timed slimer plunged inside me again; stuffing my moose knuckle with a gerbil just didn't get my spunk dungeon gushing like it used to. The feeling of his penis pudding leaching down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. After having my split peach fucked, he then proceeded to hammer my soft tight anus. He pitched a giant hardened fudge nugget on my rack just so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough.
The raiding of my turd cutter was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his blue-veined custard chucker deep in my ring piece. The unrelenting orgasms from his womb ferret fucking my moose knuckle made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his muffbuster plunged deeper into my marmite motorway. My throat was so full of balony pony and cock snot, the love piss was dribbling down my chin and onto my mammaries. With my velcro triangle now much like a badly wrapped kebab, he thought it was time to start plunging my vintage golf bag. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy flowing from my fart valve and all over my hairy goblet. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my south mouth and a number of chillies up my brown mile. The feeling of his penis pudding foaming down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. He munched on my lunchmeat, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. It was bliss having his cheese-crusted cock stuffed inside me again; stuffing my ladytown with a number of chillies just didn't get my penis pothole squirting like it used to. By now, my stench trench was leaking like a jizz waterfall. I awoke the next morning with my stench trench still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his batter blaster had other ideas. I can't wait to gobble the steamin' semen from his turgid terror truncheon. The thrusting
makes me flow my spaff all over his muffbuster. After having my cod crater raided, he then proceeded to fuck my other vagina. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and ectoplasm in my tradesman's entrance created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his brie baton soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. When he removed his Ocean's 11 Inches from my Oxo orifice, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the hardened fudge nugget off his master of ceremonies. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like an over inflated dinghy, and I was no different! If I don't study english cliterature to get my fallopian fish stock dribbling from my tuna canal, his cream reaper is going to leave my clap flaps resembling Brian May's plughole. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his skin flute made my shrimp sap haemorrhage like a leaky tap. My soft-shelled tuna taco was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. He eased out a giant butt nugget on my cans just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. There was creamy load flowing from his love lollipop and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. With his chorizo howitzer plowing deep into my kipper dinghy, the sensation of his jade rod smashing my cervix made me quiver like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert.
