by Amy Woods
The mixture of butt nugget and penis pudding in my other vagina created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his bald avenger plunged deeper into my rusty bullet hole. The hammering of my vintage golf bag was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his greasy kebab skewer deep in my Mavis Fritter. There was gentleman's relish seeping from his jebend and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. My salmon slit was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding weeping from my brown mile and all over my piss flaps. With his wensleydale wand pounding deep into my bearded haddock pasty, the sensation of his wrist-thick wand smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his master of ceremonies soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I awoke the next morning with my front bum still trickling. I thought it was over but his cunt plunger had other ideas. My throat was so full of huge penis and baby gravy, the Da Vinci load was haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my chest puppies. The feeling of his gentleman's relish leaking down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my fuck trench and a barbie doll up my ring piece. By now, my tampon tunnel was draining like a hungry pig at a trough. The unrelenting orgasms from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon fucking my stench trench made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. The raiding makes me flood my fallopian fish stock all over his bugger king. When he removed his batter blaster from my shit winker, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the colon cobra off his cream reaper. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my Quimcy, M.E. got me gushing minge mucus faster than a greased weasel shit. It was bliss having his spunk-filled spam rocket plunged inside me again; stuffing my front bum with a 9-iron just didn't get my penis pothole spattering like it used to. He eased out a giant sewer trout on my sweater puppies just so he could suck it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his mutton dagger made my pussy batter dribble like a leaky tap. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like a rabid baboon's arse, and I was no different! After having my chamber of squelch thrusted, he then proceeded to slam my puckered brown eye. With my spam castanets now much like a gutted trout, he thought it was time to start sliding my black hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? If I don't tune the tuna to get my vertical moisture draining from my ground zero grotto, his cumtree is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling a stamped bat.
Some girls are happy just to play the clitar when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my cod cave and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my Mavis Fritter. The fucking makes me squirt my clunge gunge all over his greasy kebab skewer. I awoke the next morning with my ground zero grotto still seeping. I thought it was over but his skin flute had other ideas. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like a hippo's yawn, and I was no different! Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax flowing from my cocoa channel and all over my vertical smile. The mixture of stink pickle and steamin' semen in my rusty sherif's badge created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. The fucking of my poop chute was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his one-eyed milkman deep in my ring piece. After having my shame portal slammed, he then proceeded to plow my turd cutter. My throat was so full of tenderloin truncheon and Da Vinci load, the creamy load was slobbering down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. There was creamy load dripping from his cunt plunger and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. The feeling of his cock snot dribbling down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. He extruded a giant stink pickle on my superdroopers just so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his spunk-filled spam rocket soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to suck the man fat from his turgid terror truncheon. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cervix cigar stuffed deeper into my tradesman's entrance. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my clunge gunge sliming from my vibration station, his wensleydale wand is going to leave my panty hamster resembling a bulldog licking piss from a thistle. With my spam castanets now much like the Japanese flag, he thought it was time to start ramming my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a stink pickle, I wondered? Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his timed slimer made my fallopian fish stock dribble like a slug in a salt mine. When he removed his piss pipe from my rusty bullet hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the butt nugget off his skeleton king. Inserting an antique doorknob into my municipal cockwash got me spouting minge monsoon faster than snot off a whip. By now, my soft-shelled tuna taco was weeping like a broken coffee maker. It was bliss having his devil's bagpipe plunged inside me again; stuffing my tampon tunnel with a squash just didn't get my gaping clam cavern flooding like it used to. With his ramrod hammering deep into my wunder down under, the sensation of his bald-headed yogurt slinger smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. My carp cavity was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. He munched on my hairy goblet, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week.
The mixture of Mr. Hanky and creamy load in my soft tight anus created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The raiding of my brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his cervix cigar deep in my tradesman's entrance. My municipal cockwash was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. After having my chlamydia canal slammed, he then proceeded to thrust my old dirt road. By now, my municipal cockwash was leaching like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. Inserting a barbie doll into my fuck trench got me spouting flange custard faster than a greased weasel shit. If I don't finger blast to get my pussy batter dripping from my ground zero grotto, his balony pony is going to leave my purple cabbage resembling a clown's pocket. There was man fat foaming from his one-eyed milkman and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his cunt plunger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to consume the creamy load from his greasy slimelight. I awoke the next morning with my clearing in the woods still dripping. I thought it was over but his master of ceremonies had other ideas. The feeling of his love piss haemorrhaging down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He crowned a giant stink pickle on my mosquito bites just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The unrelenting orgasms from his pink tractor beam raiding my hot pocket made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat flowing from my old dirt road and all over my piss flaps. It was bliss having his master of ceremonies plunged inside me again; stuffing my wizards sleeve with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my municipal cockwash surging like it used to. With my furburger now much like a stamped bat, he thought it was time to start stuffing my shit winker. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a stink pickle, I wondered? He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. The pounding makes me pour my minge monsoon all over his one-eyed milkman. 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 gammon alley and a squash up my brown mile. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like an over inflated dinghy, and I was no different! With his meaty member fucking deep into my herring hole, the sensation of his cream reaper smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. When he removed his blue-veined custard chucker from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the Mr. Hanky off his battering ram. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his spam javelin made my tuna tunnel tears foam like a rabid dog. My cake hole was so full of cervix cigar and cock custard, the love mayonnaise was foaming down my chin and onto my boobage.
The fucking makes me surge my vertical moisture all over his ample cock. With his blue-veined custard chucker hammering deep into my slime hole, the sensation of his timed slimer smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. With my flappy meal now much like a bulldog licking piss from a thistle, he thought it was time to start plunging my soft tight anus. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a stink pickle, I wondered? My chamber of squelch was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. He launched a giant colon cobra on my mosquito bites just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. I awoke the next morning with my slime hole still seeping. I thought it was over but his greasy slimelight had other ideas. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his Nelson's Column soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. If I don't buff the muff to get my minge mucus oozing from my Quimcy, M.E., his cunt stretcher is going to leave my purple cabbage resembling the south end of a badger going north. There was cock snot dribbling from his purple beaver buster and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's lunchmeat looking like a shot cat, and I was no different! My mouth was so full of pink tractor beam and cock custard, the magician's wax was draining down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my shame portal and a gerbil up my cocoa channel. After having my clearing in the woods plowed, he then proceeded to thrust my puckered brown eye. The feeling of his love mayonnaise slobbering down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The unrelenting orgasms from his disco stick thrusting my fuck gutter made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. The mixture of stink pickle and Da Vinci load in my mud flap created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. The thrusting of my black hole was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his blue-veined custard chucker deep in my old dirt road. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard draining from my puckered brown eye and all over my vertical smile. It was bliss having his love muscle stuffed inside me again; stuffing my chlamydia canal with an antique doorknob just didn't get my vibrator crater flooding like it used to. Inserting an egg timer into my tampon tunnel got me flooding pussy batter faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I can't wait to chow down on the baby gravy from his cunt stretcher. When he removed his clunger from my mud flap, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the sewer trout off his jade rod. By now, my tuna canal was haemorrhaging like a rabid dog. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his devil's bagpipe made my beige slime trickle like a leaky tap.
My depravity cavity was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. I can't wait to suck the penis pudding from his mutton dagger. The plowing makes me eject my flange custard all over his spam dagger. Inserting my fist into my chlamydia canal got me flowing beige slime faster than a greased weasel shit. When he removed his womb raider from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the sewer trout off his all-beef thermometer. It was bliss having his battering ram stuffed inside me again; stuffing my chlamydia canal with a barbie doll just didn't get my split peach flooding like it used to. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my frilling pink golf bag and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my brown eye. My mouth was so full of jade rod and Da Vinci load, the cock snot was oozing down my chin and onto my sweater puppies. He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. After having my south mouth raided, he then proceeded to raid my chocolate starfish. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his blind butler made my pussy batter flow like a slavering dog. The fucking of my rusty sherif's badge was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his disco stick deep in my marmite motorway. With his batter blaster pounding deep into my ladytown, the sensation of his washington monument smashing my cervix made me quake like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard sliming from my poo pipe and all over my meaty hangers. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his womb raider rammed deeper into my mud flap. I awoke the next morning with my penis pothole still draining. I thought it was over but his tenderloin truncheon had other ideas. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like a clown's pocket, and I was no different! The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his blue-veined custard chucker soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The unrelenting orgasms from his stilton sword plowing my gammon alley made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. There was love piss seeping from his clunger and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. By now, my fuck gutter was foaming like a George Foreman grill. The feeling of his baby gravy leaking down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The mixture of stink pickle and Da Vinci load in my mud flap created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. With my panty hamster now much like the south end of a badger going north, he thought it was time to start ramming my soft tight anus. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? He pinched off a giant sewer trout on my love bubbles just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo.
After having my whispering eye slammed, he then proceeded to slam my Oxo orifice. With my furburger now much like a badly wrapped kebab, he thought it was time to start probing my chocolate starfish. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a colon cobra, I wondered? There was gentleman's relish flowing from his spam dagger and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. When he removed his gristle missile from my other vagina, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the toilet twinkie off his gristle missile. By now, my cod crater was trickling like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. The feeling of his love piss trickling down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. With his cunt stretcher fucking deep into my cod canyon, the sensation of his ample cock smashing my cervix made me quake like a rat on acid. My throat was so full of love lollipop and cock custard, the gentleman's relish was slobbering down my chin and onto my top bollocks. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his love muscle made my sex wee slime like a leaky tap. My shamevelope was trembling like a rat on acid. Inserting a barbie doll into my calamari cockring got me flooding vertical moisture faster than snot off a whip. The slamming makes me spritz my minge mucus all over his one-eyed milkman. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus rammed deeper into my brown mile. He arced a giant colon cobr
a on my cans just so he could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The unrelenting orgasms from his purple-headed trouser snake fucking my hatchet wound made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's open-faced ham sandwich looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm oozing from my rusty sherif's badge and all over my hairy goblet. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and creamy load in my vintage golf bag created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. I can't wait to gobble the gentleman's relish from his blind butler. Some girls are happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my cod canyon and a number of chillies up my poop chute. I awoke the next morning with my enchilada of love still trickling. I thought it was over but his Ocean's 11 Inches had other ideas. The thrusting of my poop chute was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his sperminator deep in my black hole. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his veiny quim prod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. It was bliss having his sperminator shoved inside me again; stuffing my fuck gutter with a lightbulb just didn't get my tampon tunnel spraying like it used to.
