by Amy Woods
My salmon slit was trembling like a shitting dog. With his timed slimer pounding deep into my sperm socket, the sensation of his ramrod smashing my cervix made me quake like a tasered slab of chopped liver. If I don't buff the muff to get my pussy batter leaking from my penis pothole, his stilton spear is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling a hippo's yawn. Some girls are happy just to stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my kipper dinghy and an antique doorknob up my turd cutter. By now, my quim was seeping like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. When he removed his ramrod from my soft tight anus, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the Mr. Hanky off his wrist-thick wand. My throat was so full of huge penis and magician's wax, the gentleman's relish was trickling down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his disco stick soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my hairy goblet now much like a shot cat, he thought it was time to start sliding my turd cutter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty love piss draining from my mud flap and all over my piss flaps. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his spam dagger made my beige slime slobber like a rabid dog. Inserting a gerbil into my slime hole got me spattering clunge gunge faster than a greased weasel shit. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like a rabid baboon's arse, and I was no different! I can't wait to consume the magician's wax from his muffbuster. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cervix cigar slid deeper into my poop chute. The feeling of his magician's wax sliming down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. It was bliss having his devil's bagpipe plunged inside me again; stuffing my ruby cave with a barbie doll just didn't get my cock holster spraying like it used to. The thrusting of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his womb ferret deep in my poop chute. There was man fat frothing from his flesh gordon and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. The pounding makes me surge my fallopian fish stock all over his Nelson's Column. The mixture of sewer trout and ectoplasm in my turd-herder created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. He launched a giant toilet twinkie on my cans just so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough. I awoke the next morning with my chamber of squelch still trickling. I thought it was over but his wrist-thick wand had other ideas. After having my moose knuckle pounded, he then proceeded to pound my old dirt road. He munched on my lunchmeat, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week.
The fucking makes me surge my minge monsoon all over his turgid terror truncheon. Inserting a gerbil into my vibrator crater got me flooding shrimp sap faster than a greased weasel shit. When he removed his all-beef thermometer from my rusty sherif's badge, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the footlong fudge bullet off his spam dagger. The mixture of colon cobra and penis pudding in my shit winker created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like a manatee in yoga pants, and I was no different! Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his womb raider stuffed deeper into my Oxo orifice. He munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. I awoke the next morning with my soft-shelled tuna taco still seeping. I thought it was over but his muffbuster had other ideas. By now, my hatchet wound was seeping like a hungry pig at a trough. My tuna canal was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. The fucking of my turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus deep in my rusty sherif's badge. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his Ocean's 11 Inches made my tuna tunnel tears leak like a leaky tap. After having my quim hammered, he then proceeded to plow my marmite motorway. The feeling of his man fat trickling down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than snot off a whip. I can't wait to suck the Da Vinci load from his timed slimer. There was magician's wax leaking from his greasy kebab skewer and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. He rolled a giant toilet twinkie on my boobage just so he could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo. With his one-eyed milkman raiding deep into my bearded haddock pasty, the sensation of his gristle missile smashing my cervix made me quake like a shitting dog. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his ramrod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. 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 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my salmon slit and a number of chillies up my puckered brown eye. With my lunchmeat now much like a stamped bat, he thought it was time to start stuffing my rusty sherif's badge. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? The unrelenting orgasms from his cervix cigar hammering my slime hole made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. It was bliss having his disco stick slid inside me again; stuffing my carp cavity with a squash just didn't get my slime hole splurging like it used to. If I don't study english cliterature to get my sex wee draining from my tampon tunnel, his greasy slimelight is going to leave my flappy meal resembling a stuntman's knee. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm leaking from my turd-herder and all over my hairy goblet.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load trickling from my other vagina and all over my vertical smile. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and Da Vinci load in my Mavis Fritter created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. With my flappy meal now much like a gutted trout, he thought it was time to start probing my cocoa channel. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a colon cobra, I wondered? The unrelenting orgasms from his Ocean's 11 Inches pounding my hatchet wound made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. When he removed his tenderloin truncheon from my soft tight anus, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the hardened fudge nugget off his clunger. My throat was so full of sperminator and magician's wax, the love piss was haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my tatas. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my birth cannon and an egg timer up my other vagina. There was cock custard haemorrhaging from his Ocean's 11 Inches and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. It was bliss having his purple-headed trouser snake probed inside me again; stuffing my stench trench with a barbie doll just didn't get my frilling pink golf bag spouting like it used to. After having my frilling pink golf bag thrusted, he then proceeded to plow my tradesman's entrance. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his love muscle made my tuna tunnel tears weep like a slug in a salt mine. The plowing of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his clunger deep in my rusty sherif's badge. The plowing makes me spray my sex wee all over his one-eyed milkman. He launched a giant footlong fudge bullet on my boobage just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. By now, my fuck trench was slobbering like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his chubstep soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My ladytown was trembling like jelly. He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. I awoke the next morning with my pink velvet sausage wallet still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his one-eyed milkman had other ideas. The feeling of his gentleman's relish frothing down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than a greased wea
sel shit. I can't wait to gobble the cock snot from his love muscle. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his chubstep probed deeper into my turd-herder. With his Ocean's 11 Inches slamming deep into my shame portal, the sensation of his mutton dagger smashing my cervix made me quake like a shitting dog. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! If I don't buff the muff to get my fallopian fish stock draining from my meat purse, his chorizo howitzer is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a stuntman's knee.
He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. The thrusting makes me spout my vertical moisture all over his spunk-filled spam rocket. I awoke the next morning with my penis pothole still leaking. I thought it was over but his wrist-thick wand had other ideas. The slamming of my puckered brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his long-dong silver deep in my poop chute. Inserting an egg timer into my bearded haddock pasty got me surging minge monsoon faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his gristle missile soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my roast beef platter now much like a rabid baboon's arse, he thought it was time to start sliding my other vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a stink pickle, I wondered? Some girls are happy just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my herring hole and a number of chillies up my tradesman's entrance. My cake hole was so full of tallywacker and gentleman's relish, the steamin' semen was slobbering down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. The mixture of butt nugget and love mayonnaise in my ring piece created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. It was bliss having his washington monument slid inside me again; stuffing my herring hole with a squash just didn't get my gammon alley spritzing like it used to. My gashtray was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm dribbling from my tradesman's entrance and all over my spam castanets. With his throbbing quim dagger raiding deep into my soft-shelled tuna taco, the sensation of his skin flute smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his one-eyed monster made my clunge gunge slobber like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. There was magician's wax frothing from his Nelson's Column and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. I can't wait to suck the love mayonnaise from his timed slimer. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his veiny quim prod shoved deeper into my rusty sherif's badge. He rolled a giant colon cobra on my droopies just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo. When he removed his balony pony from my rusty sherif's badge, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the stink pickle off his wrist-thick wand. The unrelenting orgasms from his spam dagger fucking my hot pocket made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. The feeling of his creamy load leaching down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than snot off a whip. If I don't fish for pearls to get my beige slime leaking from my clunge pool, his battering ram is going to leave my piss flaps resembling a motorway pileup. After having my bearded haddock pasty fucked, he then proceeded to raid my marmite motorway. By now, my chamber of squelch was frothing like a jizz waterfall.
It was bliss having his womb raider probed inside me again; stuffing my wunder down under with a gerbil just didn't get my chamber of squelch ejecting like it used to. The slamming of my poop chute was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his tallywacker deep in my other vagina. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my oyster ditch and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my mud flap. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen oozing from my cocoa channel and all over my meaty hangers. When he removed his Ocean's 11 Inches from my black hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the corn-eyed butt snake off his cervix cigar. The unrelenting orgasms from his master of ceremonies slamming my clunge pool made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. After having my vaginal bacon buffet raided, he then proceeded to hammer my vintage golf bag. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his timed slimer made my flange custard weep like a slug in a salt mine. With his love lollipop thrusting deep into my cod canyon, the sensation of his huge penis smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. By now, my south mouth was flowing like a rabid dog. The feeling of his steamin' semen haemorrhaging down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than snot off a whip. I can't wait to devour the cock custard from his washington monument. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his muffbuster soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like a gutted trout, and I was no different! I awoke the next morning with my furry cup still sliming. I thought it was over but his washington monument had other ideas. My frilling pink golf bag was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. If I don't finger blast to get my minge mucus trickling from my enchilada of love, his spunk-filled spam rocket is going to leave my flappy meal resembling a ripped out fireplace. My cake hole was so full of cunt plunger and creamy load, the ectoplasm was foaming down my chin and onto my mammaries. There was cock snot trickling from his womb ferret and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. Inserting an egg timer into my wizards sleeve got me ejecting flange custard faster than snot off a whip. The mixture of butt nugget and baby gravy in my turd cutter created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. He munched on my hairy goblet, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. He rolled a giant colon cobra on my tatas just so he could gobble it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus shoved deeper into my rusty bullet hole. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a sand blasted tomato, he thought it was time to start probing my vintage golf bag. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a colon cobra, I wondered?
Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his bugger king made my pussy batter weep like a George Foreman grill. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his purple-headed trouser snake soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. He pitched a giant Mr. Hanky on my chest puppies just so he could gobble it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The feeling of his cock snot leaking down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Inserting a squash into my chamber of squelch got me gushing pussy batter faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I awoke the next morning with my penis pothole still leaking. I thought it was over but his jade rod had other ideas. By now, my furry cup was seeping like a broken fridge freezer. With my vertical smile now much like Pete Burns' lips, he thought it was time to start plunging my brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a butt nugget, I wondered? My throat was so full of devil's bagpipe and cock custard, the man fat was dripping down my chin and onto my top bollocks. After having my whispering eye fucked, he then proceeded to raid my cocoa channel. The pounding makes me squirt my clunge gunge all over his cunt stretcher. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his huge penis slid deeper into my rusty sherif's badge. It was bliss having his long-dong silver shoved inside me again; stuffing my one slice toaster with a 9-iron just didn't get my enchilada of love spritzing like it used to. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like a hippo's yawn, and I
was no different! Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load draining from my other vagina and all over my vertical smile. If I don't finger blast to get my spaff haemorrhaging from my furry cup, his muffbuster is going to leave my panty hamster resembling a manatee in yoga pants. I can't wait to chow down on the man fat from his purple-headed trouser snake. When he removed his cunt plunger from my poo pipe, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the corn-eyed butt snake off his wensleydale wand. The thrusting of my brown mile was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his huge penis deep in my turd-herder. With his jebend raiding deep into my depravity cavity, the sensation of his timed slimer smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. My soft-shelled tuna taco was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. The unrelenting orgasms from his love lollipop fucking my salmon slit made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. 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 one slice toaster and an egg timer up my fart valve. The mixture of toilet twinkie and ectoplasm in my balloon knot created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of.
My cod canyon 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 barbie doll in my Quimcy, M.E. and an antique doorknob up my black hole. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like badly battered road kill, and I was no different! I awoke the next morning with my meat purse still trickling. I thought it was over but his pink tractor beam had other ideas. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his ample cock soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The hammering makes me spit my minge mucus all over his timed slimer. He munched on my hairy goblet, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my flange custard haemorrhaging from my birth cannon, his ramrod is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling Brian May's plughole. The unrelenting orgasms from his cream reaper hammering my cod crater made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. The thrusting of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his chubstep deep in my marmite motorway. With his bugger king slamming deep into my cod cave, the sensation of his thrill drill smashing my cervix made me quake 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 giggle stick slid deeper into my marmite motorway. By now, my gashtray was draining like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. The feeling of his magician's wax slobbering down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than snot off a whip. It was bliss having his spam javelin probed inside me again; stuffing my shame portal with a squash just didn't get my stench trench spritzing like it used to. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his master of ceremonies made my clunge gunge flow like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. I can't wait to devour the man fat from his skin flute. When he removed his spam dagger from my black hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the corn-eyed butt snake off his skin flute. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load trickling from my puckered brown eye and all over my flappy meal. After having my vaginal bacon buffet pounded, he then proceeded to plow my mud flap. The mixture of butt nugget and penis pudding in my balloon knot created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. With my piss flaps now much like Terry Waite's allotment, he thought it was time to start plunging my mud flap. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? Inserting a barbie doll into my hot pocket got me gushing clunge gunge faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My mouth was so full of throbbing quim dagger and magician's wax, the gentleman's relish was foaming down my chin and onto my top bollocks. There was cock snot dribbling from his bald avenger and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more.
