by Amy Woods
I can't wait to chow down on the love piss from his wensleydale wand. The thrusting makes me spray my sex wee all over his bald avenger. My wizards sleeve was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. He pinched off a giant hardened fudge nugget on my mosquito bites just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my beige slime foaming from my gashtray, his blind butler is going to leave my piss flaps resembling a hippo's yawn. The feeling of his love mayonnaise leaking down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Inserting a barbie doll into my sperm socket got me pouring minge monsoon faster than a greased weasel shit. The unrelenting orgasms from his one-eyed milkman fucking my vibrator crater made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. When he removed his sperminator from my tradesman's entrance, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the toilet twinkie off his one-eyed monster. He munched on my lunchmeat, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his clunger made my shrimp sap leach like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like a darts team's goalkeeper, and I was no different! The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his tallywacker soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like Brian May's plughole, he thought it was time to start probing my fudge factory. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? With his wrist-thick wand fucking deep into my hatchet wound, the sensation of his purple-headed trouser snake smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. My cake hole was so full of stilton spear and ectoplasm, the steamin' semen was draining down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. I awoke the next morning with my sperm socket still dribbling. I thought it was over but his flesh gordon had other ideas. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm seeping from my chocolate starfish and all over my beef curtains. By now, my clunge pool was haemorrhaging like a hungry pig at a trough. It was bliss having his bald avenger stuffed inside me again; stuffing my whispering eye with a squash just didn't get my depravity cavity gushing like it used to. The plowing of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his all-beef thermometer deep in my rusty bullet hole. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his timed slimer slid deeper into my ring piece. After having my tampon tunnel thrusted, he then proceeded to plow my brown eye. The mixture of toilet twinkie and man fat in my Mavis Fritter created the delicious sphincter sauce 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 squash in my fuck trench and a 15" spiked vibrator up my vintage golf bag.
With his thrill drill thrusting deep into my cod crater, the sensation of his purple beaver buster smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. With my purple cabbage now much like the Japanese flag, 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? The mixture of toilet twinkie and penis pudding in my soft tight anus created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The unrelenting orgasms from his ample cock slamming my Quimcy, M.E. made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. When he removed his sperminator from my cocoa channel, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the hardened fudge nugget off his love lollipop. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his purple-headed trouser snake soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. Inserting a gerbil into my hatchet wound got me spritzing pussy batter faster than snot off a whip. My smush mitten was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his balony pony made my pussy batter drain like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my south mouth and a squash up my tradesman's entrance. If I don't play the clitar to get my sex wee frothing from my hatchet wound, his wensleydale wand is going to leave my panty hamster resembling a stamped bat. My mouth was so full of cunt plunger and penis pudding, the love piss was oozing down my chin and onto my tatas. The plowing makes me surge my beige slime all over his wrist-thick wand. It was bliss having his mutton dagger rammed inside me again; stuffing my gammon alley with a 9-iron just didn't get my frilling pink golf bag gushing like it used to. He extruded a giant hardened fudge nugget on my boobage 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 spam javelin rammed deeper into my Oxo orifice. By now, my salmon slit was frothing like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. I can't wait to consume the love piss from his giggle stick. I awoke the next morning with my furry cup still leaking. I thought it was over but his veiny quim prod had other ideas. The thrusting of my chocolate starfish was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his pink tractor beam deep in my chocolate starfish. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish draining from my black hole and all over my roast beef platter. After having my tuna canal raided, he then proceeded to raid my mud flap. The feeling of his creamy load flowing down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like an over inflated dinghy, and I was no different!
The mixture of toilet twinkie and steamin' semen in my marmite motorway created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot draining from my puckered brown eye and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. The plowing makes me flood my spaff all over his tenderloin truncheon. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his purple-headed trouser snake stuffed deeper into my turd-herder. The hammering of my vintage golf bag was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his cumtree deep in my brown eye. Inserting a barbie doll into my south mouth got me spouting minge mucus faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I can't wait to chow down on the steamin' semen from his stilton spear. It was bliss having his purple beaver buster shoved inside me again; stuffing my municipal cockwash with an antique doorknob just didn't get my tampon tunnel pouring like it used to. With my fishy flaps now much like a manatee in yoga pants, he thought it was time to start plunging my cocoa channel. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? If I don't buff the muff to get my minge mucus weeping from my gammon alley, his brie baton is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling a clown's pocket. With his huge penis fucking deep into my birth cannon, the sensation of his jebend smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his piss pipe made my flange custard haemorrhage like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his Nelson's Column soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The feeling of his steamin' semen seeping down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. After having my cock holster fucked, he then proceeded to slam my mud flap. The unrelenting orgasms from his tenderloin truncheon slamming my oyster ditch made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. By now, my gammon alley was leaking like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. I awoke the next morning with my cod canyon still trickling. I thought it was over but his long-dong silver had other ideas. He launched a giant hardened fudge nugget on my droopies just so he could gobble it up li
ke a pig at a trough. There was steamin' semen flowing from his slut slayer and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. My cake hole was so full of eight inches of throbbing pink jesus and magician's wax, the baby gravy was frothing down my chin and onto my sweater puppies. When he removed his mutton dagger from my fudge factory, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the corn-eyed butt snake off his jade rod. He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. 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 oyster ditch and a gerbil up my fudge factory. My gashtray was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery.
The pounding makes me flood my pussy batter all over his tenderloin truncheon. My south mouth was trembling like a rat on acid. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like the south end of a badger going north, and I was no different! My throat was so full of skeleton king and baby gravy, the penis pudding was sliming down my chin and onto my twin peaks. It was bliss having his timed slimer slid inside me again; stuffing my vibrator crater with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my enchilada of love spraying like it used to. When he removed his chorizo howitzer from my turd-herder, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the hardened fudge nugget off his sperminator. There was cock snot seeping from his chubstep and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. After having my smush mitten fucked, he then proceeded to hammer my Mavis Fritter. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his chubstep made my flange custard flow like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. I awoke the next morning with my one slice toaster still slobbering. I thought it was over but his spunk-filled spam rocket had other ideas. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and gentleman's relish in my shit winker created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Some girls are happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my birth cannon and a barbie doll up my fart valve. He dropped a giant Mr. Hanky on my chest puppies just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. By now, my cod cave was leaching like a rabid dog. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his womb ferret slid deeper into my vintage golf bag. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. The plowing of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his womb raider deep in my chocolate starfish. I can't wait to suck the cock custard from his womb ferret. With his love muscle hammering deep into my stench trench, the sensation of his chubstep smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his muffbuster soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen foaming from my rusty sherif's badge and all over my velcro triangle. With my furburger now much like a gutted trout, he thought it was time to start probing my turd-herder. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a butt nugget, I wondered? Inserting an antique doorknob into my furry cup got me flowing beige slime faster than snot off a whip. The unrelenting orgasms from his muffbuster plowing my cock holster made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my pussy batter slobbering from my soft-shelled tuna taco, his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus is going to leave my panty hamster resembling a bucket of smashed crabs.
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 fuck gutter and a squash up my fart valve. With my velcro triangle now much like the south end of a badger going north, he thought it was time to start stuffing my other vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a toilet twinkie, I wondered? He pitched a giant hardened fudge nugget on my breasticles just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm leaking from my shit winker and all over my lunchmeat. It was bliss having his womb ferret shoved inside me again; stuffing my clunge pool with a gerbil just didn't get my hot pocket pouring like it used to. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and creamy load in my poop chute created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The unrelenting orgasms from his clunger plowing my split peach made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. I awoke the next morning with my tampon tunnel still trickling. I thought it was over but his greasy slimelight had other ideas. The feeling of his cock snot weeping down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his womb ferret made my spaff drip like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. Inserting a barbie doll into my shame portal got me ejecting tuna tunnel tears faster than snot off a whip. If I don't strum the banjo to get my pussy batter dripping from my tampon tunnel, his purple-headed trouser snake is going to leave my panty hamster resembling a shot cat. There was Da Vinci load oozing from his gristle missile and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. My enchilada of love was trembling like a shitting dog. The fucking of my other vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his wensleydale wand deep in my puckered brown eye. When he removed his love lollipop from my rusty sherif's badge, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the footlong fudge bullet off his muffbuster. With his blind butler raiding deep into my clearing in the woods, the sensation of his clunger smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his spam javelin soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My mouth was so full of blue-veined custard chucker and creamy load, the baby gravy was weeping down my chin and onto my droopies. By now, my calamari cockring was leaching like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. I can't wait to lap the cock snot from his clunger. The fucking makes me flow my spaff all over his greasy slimelight. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like a clown's pocket, and I was no different! He munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. After having my gashtray thrusted, he then proceeded to slam my cocoa channel.
The feeling of his cock snot seeping down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. With my hairy goblet now much like a werewolf with it's throat cut, he thought it was time to start stuffing my Mavis Fritter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a colon cobra, I wondered? There was magician's wax flowing from his one-eyed milkman and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard trickling from my rusty bullet hole and all over my meaty hangers. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his vein cane made my minge mucus dribble like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his spunk-filled spam rocket soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The unrelenting orgasms from his vein cane raiding my birth cannon made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. He cut a giant Mr. Hanky on my chesticles just so he could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo. My cake hole was so full of purple-headed trouser snake and love mayonnaise, the Da Vinci load was trickling down my chin and onto my breasticles. I awoke the next morning with my split peach still leaking. I thought it was over but his spunk-filled spam rocket had other ideas. The mixture of colon cobra and love piss in my rusty sherif's badge created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. By now, my cod crater was foaming like a leaky tap. I can't wait to suck t
he magician's wax from his slut slayer. My front bum was trembling like jelly. 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 hot pocket and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my black hole. The fucking of my brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his balony pony deep in my turd-herder. If I don't play the clitar to get my pussy batter draining from my pink velvet sausage wallet, his timed slimer is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling a badly wrapped kebab. Inserting a lightbulb into my meat purse got me gushing minge monsoon faster than a greased weasel shit. When he removed his veiny quim prod from my mud flap, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the corn-eyed butt snake off his brie baton. With his meaty member hammering deep into my herring hole, the sensation of his cream reaper smashing my cervix made me quiver like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. The slamming makes me spit my fallopian fish stock all over his chorizo howitzer. It was bliss having his one-eyed monster plunged inside me again; stuffing my mound of love pudding with a barbie doll just didn't get my shamevelope squirting like it used to. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like a stuntman's knee, and I was no different! After having my fuck trench raided, he then proceeded to pound my marmite motorway.
