by Amy Woods
The plowing makes me spout my minge mucus all over his master of ceremonies. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise dripping from my rusty sherif's badge and all over my beef curtains. He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. The feeling of his man fat dribbling down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his cumtree made my sex wee flow like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. He pinched off a giant sewer trout on my fiery biscuits just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The mixture of stink pickle and penis pudding in my soft tight anus created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Some girls are happy just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my moose knuckle and a 15" spiked vibrator up my poo pipe. The unrelenting orgasms from his cervix cigar fucking my slime hole made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. I can't wait to devour the creamy load from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. Inserting a number of chillies into my pink velvet sausage wallet got me gushing minge monsoon faster than snot off a whip. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his batter blaster shoved deeper into my mud flap. It was bliss having his ramrod slid inside me again; stuffing my smush mitten with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my chamber of squelch pouring like it used to. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his bald avenger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The pounding of my vintage golf bag was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his kebeb skewer deep in my soft tight anus. After having my cock holster plowed, he then proceeded to fuck my turd-herder. By now, my ground zero grotto was frothing like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. There was man fat weeping from his thrill drill and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. I awoke the next morning with my furry cup still oozing. I thought it was over but his purple beaver buster had other ideas. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my minge mucus weeping from my vaginal bacon buffet, his timed slimer is going to leave my spam castanets resembling a horse's collar. With my vertical smile now much like a gutted trout, he thought it was time to start shoving my poo pipe. Is now the time to tell him I really need to blast a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? With his spam javelin fucking deep into my wizards sleeve, the sensation of his throbbing quim dagger smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like a stamped bat, and I was no different! When he removed his huge penis from my other vagina, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the sewer trout off his mutton dagger. My hot pocket was trembling like a shitting dog.
With his all-beef thermometer fucking deep into my chlamydia canal, the sensation of his mutton dagger smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. With my vertical smile now much like a horse's collar, he thought it was time to start sliding my turd cutter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a butt nugget, I wondered? Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like a clown's pocket, and I was no different! Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his muffbuster made my pussy batter flow like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. The mixture of stink pickle and love piss in my rusty sherif's badge created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. It was bliss having his love muscle plunged inside me again; stuffing my ruby cave with an egg timer just didn't get my ladytown ejecting like it used to. The unrelenting orgasms from his giggle stick plowing my shamevelope made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. My depravity cavity was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his piss pipe probed deeper into my Oxo orifice. There was baby gravy dribbling from his tallywacker and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. If I don't buff the muff to get my vertical moisture foaming from my herring hole, his cunt stretcher is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling a shot cat. The thrusting makes me flow my tuna tunnel tears all over his long-dong silver. After having my cum dumpster fucked, he then proceeded to pound my brown mile. Inserting a gerbil into my cod crater got me squirting minge monsoon faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my spunk dungeon and an egg timer up my fudge factory. He eased out a giant sewer trout on my love bubbles just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his spam javelin soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to consume the love piss from his master of ceremonies. I awoke the next morning with my one slice toaster still weeping. I thought it was over but his gristle missile had other ideas. When he removed his sperminator 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 lap the toilet twinkie off his tallywacker. By now, my fuck gutter was slobbering like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. The pounding of my tradesman's entrance was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his gristle missile deep in my cocoa channel. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen haemorrhaging from my turd cutter and all over my velcro triangle. The feeling of his ectoplasm weeping down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. My throat was so full of vein cane and steamin' semen, the man fat was leaking down my chin and onto my chest puppies.
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his long-dong silver shoved deeper into my turd-herder. With his spam javelin pounding deep into my cock holster, the sensation of his bald-headed yogurt slinger smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. My throat was so full of skeleton king and magician's wax, the penis pudding was flowing down my chin and onto my superdroopers. The feeling of his cock snot draining down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. I can't wait to gobble the cock custard from his meaty member. The unrelenting orgasms from his stilton sword thrusting my Quimcy, M.E. made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. My bearded haddock pasty was trembling like a rat on acid. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat dribbling from my turd cutter and all over my velcro triangle. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his bald-headed yogurt slinger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a blind cobbler's thumb, he thought it was time to start shoving my old dirt road. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. There was steamin' semen dribbling from his all-beef thermometer and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. The pounding makes me gush my fallopian fish stock all over his purple beaver buster. He eased out a giant colon cobra on my rack just so he could gobble it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's fishy flaps looking like a rabid baboon's arse, and I was no different! The hammering of my tradesman's entrance was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his slut slayer deep in my black hole. By now, my penis pothole was haemorrhaging like a slug in a salt mine. When he removed his cunt plunger from my other vagina, 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 slut slayer. The mixture of colon cobra and cock custard in my turd-herder created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. Inserting an antique doorknob into my chamber of squelch got me spattering vertical moisture faster than snot off a whip. It was bliss havi
ng his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon rammed inside me again; stuffing my furry cup with a number of chillies just didn't get my birth cannon pouring like it used to. After having my clearing in the woods pounded, he then proceeded to hammer my cocoa channel. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my cum dumpster and a 9-iron up my brown eye. I awoke the next morning with my meat purse still draining. I thought it was over but his jade rod had other ideas. If I don't finger blast to get my shrimp sap haemorrhaging from my bearded haddock pasty, his spam javelin is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling Pete Burns' lips.
After having my vibration station slammed, he then proceeded to pound my poo pipe. The feeling of his Da Vinci load oozing down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. By now, my wunder down under was sliming like a slavering dog. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my whispering eye and a 15" spiked vibrator up my poop chute. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load oozing from my puckered brown eye and all over my vertical garden. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my clunge gunge frothing from my wunder down under, his tallywacker is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling a rabid baboon's arse. It was bliss having his batter blaster stuffed inside me again; stuffing my vibration station with a squash just didn't get my mound of love pudding squirting like it used to. My shame portal was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. With my furburger now much like a bulldog in a windtunnel, he thought it was time to start stuffing my black hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his womb ferret shoved deeper into my Oxo orifice. Inserting my fist into my split peach got me ejecting fallopian fish stock faster than snot off a whip. The mixture of colon cobra and Da Vinci load in my vintage golf bag created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. I awoke the next morning with my cock holster still draining. I thought it was over but his timed slimer had other ideas. The thrusting of my brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his kebeb skewer deep in my ring piece. The plowing makes me spray my sex wee all over his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his chubstep made my clunge gunge drip like a hungry pig at a trough. When he removed his tallywacker from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the colon cobra off his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. With his all-beef thermometer pounding deep into my Quimcy, M.E., the sensation of his long-dong silver smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's open-faced ham sandwich looking like a horse's collar, and I was no different! There was love mayonnaise slobbering from his blind butler and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. My throat was so full of blind butler and magician's wax, the ectoplasm was draining down my chin and onto my rack. He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. The unrelenting orgasms from his pink tractor beam thrusting my fuck gutter made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his bald-headed yogurt slinger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to devour the Da Vinci load from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon.
It was bliss having his cheese-crusted cock rammed inside me again; stuffing my chamber of squelch with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my cod cave gushing like it used to. The pounding makes me splurge my tuna tunnel tears all over his love muscle. My throat was so full of ample cock and love piss, the creamy load was oozing down my chin and onto my boobage. I awoke the next morning with my oyster ditch still dripping. I thought it was over but his cunt stretcher had other ideas. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and love mayonnaise in my poop chute created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his batter blaster made my tuna tunnel tears haemorrhage like a slavering dog. Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy slobbering from my puckered brown eye and all over my fishy flaps. The pounding of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his womb raider deep in my soft tight anus. If I don't flick the bean to get my minge mucus flowing from my slime hole, his all-beef thermometer is going to leave my velcro triangle resembling a shot cat. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his blind butler slid deeper into my turd-herder. Some girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my oyster ditch and a squash up my tradesman's entrance. After having my vaginal bacon buffet pounded, he then proceeded to pound my ring piece. With my furburger now much like a dropped burrito, he thought it was time to start shoving my mud flap. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like a sand blasted tomato, and I was no different! My herring hole was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. When he removed his cream reaper from my tradesman's entrance, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the hardened fudge nugget off his stilton sword. By now, my cum dumpster was dribbling like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. The feeling of his baby gravy trickling down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. With his huge penis fucking deep into my sperm socket, the sensation of his cream reaper smashing my cervix made me quiver like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. There was magician's wax sliming from his tenderloin truncheon and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. Inserting my fist into my enchilada of love got me spraying pussy batter faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The unrelenting orgasms from his cunt plunger plowing my split peach made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his bald avenger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to devour the gentleman's relish from his vein cane.
After having my bearded haddock pasty pounded, he then proceeded to fuck my vintage golf bag. The mixture of colon cobra and penis pudding in my marmite motorway created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. With his gristle missile plowing deep into my one slice toaster, the sensation of his battering ram smashing my cervix made me quake like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cervix cigar shoved deeper into my shit winker. There was gentleman's relish haemorrhaging from his cream reaper and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. With my roast beef platter now much like a badly wrapped kebab, he thought it was time to start shoving my old dirt road. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a butt nugget, I wondered? The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his spam javelin soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to suck the cock custard from his throbbing quim dagger. The pounding makes me flow my pussy batter all over his throbbing quim dagger. The feeling of his steamin' semen weeping down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I awoke the next morning with my enchilada of love still dripping. I thought it was over but his purple beaver buster had other ideas. It was bliss having his bald-headed yogurt slinger probed inside me again; stuffing my furry cup with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my hot pocket gushing like it used to. He rolled a giant butt nugget on my chest puppies just so he could consume it up lik
e a pig at a trough. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like a werewolf with it's throat cut, and I was no different! By now, my Quimcy, M.E. was sliming like a hungry pig at a trough. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his throbbing quim dagger made my sex wee trickle like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. My mouth was so full of veiny quim prod and cock snot, the penis pudding was slobbering down my chin and onto my twin peaks. The hammering of my rusty sherif's badge was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his devil's bagpipe deep in my Mavis Fritter. The unrelenting orgasms from his all-beef thermometer raiding my slime hole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. My fuck trench was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. Inserting a gerbil into my gammon alley got me splurging shrimp sap faster than a greased weasel shit. When he removed his jade rod from my rusty sherif's badge, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the stink pickle off his flesh gordon. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot oozing from my Oxo orifice and all over my panty hamster. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my penis pothole and an egg timer up my puckered brown eye.
