The Dream's Thorn

by Amy Woods

  The unrelenting orgasms from his clunger thrusting my depravity cavity made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. He extruded a giant Mr. Hanky on my mammaries just so he could gobble it up like a hungry hungry hippo. By now, my hot pocket was leaking like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his flesh gordon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his all-beef thermometer made my vertical moisture slime like a broken fridge freezer. Inserting a number of chillies into my tuna canal got me ejecting sex wee faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The raiding makes me spray my vertical moisture all over his Ocean's 11 Inches. The thrusting of my fudge factory was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his thrill drill deep in my tradesman's entrance. I can't wait to consume the baby gravy from his huge penis. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot draining from my Oxo orifice and all over my furburger. With his Nelson's Column hammering deep into my cock holster, the sensation of his blue-veined custard chucker smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. It was bliss having his blue-veined custard chucker slid inside me again; stuffing my vibration station with a gerbil just didn't get my penis pothole squirting like it used to. The feeling of his love mayonnaise trickling down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My mouth was so full of cheese-crusted cock and cock snot, the Da Vinci load was oozing down my chin and onto my mammaries. When he removed his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus from my mud flap, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the corn-eyed butt snake off his mutton dagger. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his skeleton king slid deeper into my balloon knot. After having my moose knuckle thrusted, he then proceeded to hammer my poo pipe. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my penis pothole and a squash up my fart valve. My hot pocket was trembling like a rat on acid. The mixture of stink pickle and cock custard in my ring piece created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like a manatee in yoga pants, and I was no different! There was magician's wax leaching from his cumtree and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. I awoke the next morning with my fuck trench still dribbling. I thought it was over but his bugger king had other ideas. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. With my lunchmeat now much like an over inflated dinghy, he thought it was time to start stuffing my marmite motorway. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a sewer trout, I wondered?

  My throat was so full of pink tractor beam and steamin' semen, the baby gravy was sliming down my chin and onto my twin peaks. The pounding of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his disco stick deep in my turd-herder. The feeling of his cock snot oozing down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his jade rod made my clunge gunge leach like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. After having my chamber of squelch hammered, he then proceeded to plow my marmite motorway. Inserting a barbie doll into my bearded haddock pasty got me spattering flange custard faster than snot off a whip. By now, my penis pothole was seeping like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load slobbering from my fart valve and all over my panty hamster. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like a werewolf with it's throat cut, and I was no different! My sperm socket was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his tenderloin truncheon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my moose knuckle and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my chocolate starfish. There was gentleman's relish draining from his love muscle and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. He crowned a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my mammaries just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. If I don't study english cliterature to get my minge mucus sliming from my ladytown, his skeleton king is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling the south end of a badger going north. When he removed his vein cane from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the butt nugget off his bugger king. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his disco stick shoved deeper into my poo pipe. It was bliss having his cunt stretcher slid inside me again; stuffing my tuna canal with a barbie doll just didn't get my stench trench flooding like it used to. With his washington monument pounding deep into my fuck gutter, the sensation of his love lollipop smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. I awoke the next morning with my south mouth still flowing. I thought it was over but his gristle missile had other ideas. The thrusting makes me spit my shrimp sap all over his muffbuster. The mixture of colon cobra and ectoplasm in my mud flap created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. I can't wait to chow down on the magician's wax from his blue-veined custard chucker. With my panty hamster now much like a motorway pileup, he thought it was time to start stuffing my vintage golf bag. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a butt nugget, I wondered?

  When he removed his tenderloin truncheon from my poop chute, 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 wrist-thick wand. There was love mayonnaise trickling from his devil's bagpipe and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. The fucking makes me flow my sex wee all over his battering ram. I awoke the next morning with my cum dumpster still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his one-eyed milkman had other ideas. Inserting a lightbulb into my hatchet wound got me spraying vertical moisture faster than snot off a whip. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his balony pony soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like a motorway pileup, and I was no different! My cake hole was so full of cheese-crusted cock and man fat, the love piss was trickling down my chin and onto my droopies. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his timed slimer shoved deeper into my black hole. My front bum was trembling like jelly. The mixture of sewer trout and steamin' semen in my balloon knot created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The plowing of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his wensleydale wand deep in my turd-herder. I can't wait to consume the penis pudding from his chubstep. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a bulldog licking piss from a thistle, he thought it was time to start ramming my turd cutter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a sewer trout, I wondered? He munched on my hairy goblet, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen draining from my puckered brown eye and all over my vertical garden. After having my fuck trench pounded, he then proceeded to hammer my soft tight anus. It was bliss having his jade rod stuffed inside me again; stuffing my clearing in the woods with an egg timer just didn't get my gashtray ejecting like it used to. If I don't play the clitar to get my minge monsoon leaking from my calamari cockring, his sperminator is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a bucket of smashed crabs. The feeling of his love mayonnaise haemorrhaging down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicke
r than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his spam javelin made my minge monsoon seep like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. With his stilton spear thrusting deep into my kipper dinghy, the sensation of his cervix cigar smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my herring hole and a barbie doll up my poo pipe. He copped a giant colon cobra on my cans just so he could lap it up like a pig at a trough. By now, my vaginal bacon buffet was flowing like a leaky tap.

  Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat frothing from my black hole and all over my lunchmeat. By now, my front bum was slobbering like a rabid dog. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his muffbuster made my vertical moisture leach like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my ladytown got me spritzing minge monsoon faster than a greased weasel shit. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like a motorway pileup, and I was no different! Some girls are happy just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my municipal cockwash and an egg timer up my Oxo orifice. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and love mayonnaise in my other vagina created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a rabid baboon's arse, he thought it was time to start stuffing my ring piece. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a stink pickle, I wondered? The fucking makes me eject my fallopian fish stock all over his purple beaver buster. My cake hole was so full of slut slayer and love mayonnaise, the creamy load was frothing down my chin and onto my mammaries. I can't wait to suck the Da Vinci load from his spam dagger. With his long-dong silver raiding deep into my hot pocket, the sensation of his Ocean's 11 Inches smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. If I don't study english cliterature to get my clunge gunge draining from my Quimcy, M.E., his balony pony is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling a bulldog in a windtunnel. It was bliss having his one-eyed monster shoved inside me again; stuffing my cod canyon with a squash just didn't get my wunder down under pouring like it used to. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his washington monument stuffed deeper into my fudge factory. The unrelenting orgasms from his washington monument slamming my vaginal bacon buffet made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. My pink velvet sausage wallet was trembling like jelly. There was love mayonnaise leaching from his timed slimer and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. After having my clunge pool raided, he then proceeded to plow my old dirt road. The feeling of his man fat oozing down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I awoke the next morning with my calamari cockring still seeping. I thought it was over but his tallywacker had other ideas. The fucking of my ring piece was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his pink tractor beam deep in my fudge factory. He launched a giant footlong fudge bullet on my tatas just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his spam dagger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.

  Inserting a 9-iron into my clam-flavoured pothole got me surging clunge gunge faster than snot off a whip. There was magician's wax leaching from his chubstep and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his master of ceremonies soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his meaty member made my spaff slime like a George Foreman grill. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. The fucking makes me spit my sex wee all over his one-eyed milkman. My throat was so full of timed slimer and creamy load, the penis pudding was seeping down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. He launched a giant colon cobra on my chesticles just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The slamming of my poo pipe was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his cunt stretcher deep in my tradesman's entrance. I can't wait to devour the cock snot from his balony pony. It was bliss having his veiny quim prod stuffed inside me again; stuffing my wunder down under with a number of chillies just didn't get my kipper dinghy flooding like it used to. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like a ripped out fireplace, and I was no different! If I don't fluff the muff to get my pussy batter slobbering from my Quimcy, M.E., his stilton sword is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling a rabid baboon's arse. With his veiny quim prod pounding deep into my cum dumpster, the sensation of his sperminator smashing my cervix made me quake like a rat on acid. When he removed his stilton spear from my old dirt road, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the butt nugget off his vein cane. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my cod crater and an antique doorknob up my old dirt road. The feeling of his cock snot flowing down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than snot off a whip. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and cock snot in my fart valve created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. I awoke the next morning with my bearded haddock pasty still dribbling. I thought it was over but his spam javelin had other ideas. After having my frilling pink golf bag thrusted, he then proceeded to hammer my tradesman's entrance. With my clap flaps now much like a gutted trout, he thought it was time to start plunging my tradesman's entrance. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? The unrelenting orgasms from his kebeb skewer thrusting my cod canyon made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his giggle stick slid deeper into my balloon knot. My pink velvet sausage wallet was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. By now, my gammon alley was draining like a George Foreman grill.

  If I don't strum the banjo to get my pussy batter seeping from my stench trench, his bald avenger is going to leave my velcro triangle resembling a sand blasted tomato. By now, my gaping clam cavern was leaking like a slavering dog. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his balony pony made my flange custard drip like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. When he removed his spam javelin from my fudge factory, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the sewer trout off his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy dribbling from my black hole and all over my velcro triangle. It was bliss having his jade rod slid inside me again; stuffing my cum dumpster with a lightbulb just didn't get my quim spraying like it used to. Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my hot pocket and a 15" spiked vibrator up my tradesman's entrance. With my clap flaps now much like a sand blasted tomato, he thought it was time to start shoving my turd cutter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a colon cobra, I wondered? I can't wait to lap the love mayonnaise from his huge penis. The unrelenting orgasms from his piss pipe pounding my ruby cave made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. The pounding makes me spray my minge mucus all over his spunk-filled spam rocket. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like Terry Waite's allotment, and I was no different! Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his ramrod plunged deeper into my Mavis Fritter. He extruded a giant butt nugget on my boobage just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The feeling of his man fat oozi
ng down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With his blind butler thrusting deep into my herring hole, the sensation of his Nelson's Column smashing my cervix made me quake like a rat on acid. There was love mayonnaise seeping from his ample cock and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. The slamming of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his skin flute deep in my fart valve. I awoke the next morning with my stench trench still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his skin flute had other ideas. My cake hole was so full of stilton spear and cock custard, the magician's wax was weeping down my chin and onto my cans. The mixture of butt nugget and magician's wax in my brown mile created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my shamevelope got me squirting shrimp sap faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My oyster ditch was trembling like a rat on acid. After having my penis pothole pounded, he then proceeded to fuck my turd-herder.