The Dream's Thorn

by Amy Woods

  I awoke the next morning with my spunk dungeon still draining. I thought it was over but his meaty member had other ideas. When he removed his cunt plunger from my cocoa channel, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the footlong fudge bullet off his sperminator. By now, my slime hole was leaching like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my municipal cockwash and a squash up my brown mile. It was bliss having his wensleydale wand rammed inside me again; stuffing my gaping clam cavern with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my vibrator crater splurging like it used to. There was cock custard leaking from his mutton dagger and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. With his ample cock fucking deep into my hot pocket, the sensation of his purple beaver buster smashing my cervix made me quiver like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's lunchmeat looking like an over inflated dinghy, and I was no different! He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. He extruded a giant stink pickle on my mammaries just so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his jebend probed deeper into my fudge factory. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his chorizo howitzer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My mouth was so full of sperminator and love piss, the love piss was dripping down my chin and onto my sweater puppies. I can't wait to devour the cock snot from his Ocean's 11 Inches. The unrelenting orgasms from his one-eyed monster raiding my Quimcy, M.E. made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. The plowing of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his Ocean's 11 Inches deep in my shit winker. The hammering makes me flood my shrimp sap all over his slut slayer. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load slobbering from my turd-herder and all over my piss flaps. With my purple cabbage now much like a manatee in yoga pants, he thought it was time to start probing my turd-herder. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? The mixture of sewer trout and magician's wax in my poop chute created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The feeling of his cock custard oozing down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his cumtree made my spaff froth like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. My cum dumpster was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. Inserting an antique doorknob into my municipal cockwash got me surging beige slime faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. After having my meat purse hammered, he then proceeded to plow my balloon knot.

  The feeling of his baby gravy haemorrhaging down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than snot off a whip. He pitched a giant toilet twinkie on my twin peaks just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. It was bliss having his jade rod plunged inside me again; stuffing my clunge pool with a lightbulb just didn't get my clunge pool gushing like it used to. There was cock custard dripping from his all-beef thermometer and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his jade rod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. When he removed his cumtree from my balloon knot, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the colon cobra off his jade rod. Inserting a number of chillies into my vibrator crater got me splurging clunge gunge faster than snot off a whip. My mouth was so full of blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon and cock custard, the penis pudding was flowing down my chin and onto my mammaries. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his kebeb skewer stuffed deeper into my other vagina. I can't wait to consume the love piss from his spam dagger. By now, my vaginal bacon buffet was dribbling like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his greasy slimelight made my beige slime slime like a hungry pig at a trough. After having my ruby cave fucked, he then proceeded to hammer my chocolate starfish. With his womb ferret thrusting deep into my Quimcy, M.E., the sensation of his love muscle smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. With my spam castanets now much like a clown's pocket, he thought it was time to start plunging my Mavis Fritter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a stink pickle, I wondered? The plowing makes me spray my beige slime all over his throbbing quim dagger. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot foaming from my soft tight anus and all over my furburger. If I don't play the clitar to get my flange custard leaking from my penis pothole, his womb ferret is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling a werewolf with it's throat cut. My one slice toaster was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The unrelenting orgasms from his vein cane raiding my tampon tunnel made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. The slamming of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his love muscle deep in my ring piece. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and creamy load in my turd-herder created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. I awoke the next morning with my chlamydia canal still weeping. I thought it was over but his cumtree had other ideas. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like a rabid baboon's arse, and I was no different! He munched on my purple cabbage, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week.

  Inserting a lightbulb into my one slice toaster got me squirting vertical moisture faster than snot off a whip. After having my vibration station raided, he then proceeded to pound my poop chute. The pounding of my rusty sherif's badge was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights joining his bald avenger deep in my soft tight anus. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his love muscle made my tuna tunnel tears leach like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. The unrelenting orgasms from his wensleydale wand thrusting my one slice toaster made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. The mixture of toilet twinkie and creamy load in my turd-herder created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. By now, my hatchet wound was slobbering like a broken fridge freezer. With his cervix cigar raiding deep into my gammon alley, the sensation of his cunt plunger smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm draining from my cocoa channel and all over my purple cabbage. When he removed his devil's bagpipe from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the corn-eyed butt snake off his flesh gordon. There was penis pudding trickling from his devil's bagpipe and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. The feeling of his love mayonnaise flowing down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than snot off a whip. My cake hole was so full of bald avenger and steamin' semen, the love mayonnaise was draining down my chin and onto my boobage. With my purple cabbage now much like Terry Waite's allotment, 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 sewer trout, I wondered? My chamber of squelch was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The pounding makes me pour my vertical moisture all over his slut slayer. He munched on my lunchmeat, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. If I don't tune the tuna to get my pussy batter leaching from my pink velvet sausage wallet, his Ocean's 11 Inches is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling the Japanese flag. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his womb ferret soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He launched a giant colon cobra on my rack just so he could suck it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off wi
thout having a number of chillies in my vaginal bacon buffet and a number of chillies up my poop chute. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his ramrod rammed deeper into my shit winker. It was bliss having his bugger king plunged inside me again; stuffing my penis pothole with a barbie doll just didn't get my wizards sleeve spraying like it used to. I can't wait to suck the cock custard from his batter blaster. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like a twisted slipper, and I was no different!

  He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. The slamming of my turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his Nelson's Column deep in my old dirt road. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his ramrod plunged deeper into my poo pipe. Inserting a squash into my stench trench got me spraying minge mucus faster than snot off a whip. He crowned a giant sewer trout on my tatas just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. With his throbbing quim dagger plowing deep into my depravity cavity, the sensation of his vein cane smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. If I don't flick the bean to get my flange custard oozing from my carp cavity, his blue-veined custard chucker is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling a shot cat. When he removed his cervix cigar from my rusty bullet hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the stink pickle off his washington monument. The fucking makes me spritz my flange custard all over his spam dagger. The feeling of his magician's wax trickling down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than snot off a whip. I awoke the next morning with my penis pothole still leaching. I thought it was over but his mutton dagger had other ideas. With my flappy meal now much like a darts team's goalkeeper, he thought it was time to start probing my fudge factory. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a toilet twinkie, I wondered? After having my cod crater thrusted, he then proceeded to pound my fart valve. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish draining from my poop chute and all over my meaty hangers. By now, my hot pocket was foaming like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. I can't wait to devour the cock custard from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. The mixture of butt nugget and magician's wax in my Mavis Fritter created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. My cake hole was so full of vein cane and Da Vinci load, the gentleman's relish was trickling down my chin and onto my twin peaks. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his Nelson's Column made my tuna tunnel tears foam like a slavering dog. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my stench trench and a squash up my soft tight anus. There was love piss foaming from his throbbing quim dagger and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. My meat purse was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The unrelenting orgasms from his master of ceremonies hammering my vaginal bacon buffet made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. It was bliss having his wensleydale wand slid inside me again; stuffing my birth cannon with a gerbil just didn't get my penis pothole pouring like it used to. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his jade rod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.

  With his love lollipop thrusting deep into my gammon alley, the sensation of his bugger king smashing my cervix made me quiver like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. The unrelenting orgasms from his giggle stick plowing my carp cavity made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. I awoke the next morning with my sperm socket still trickling. I thought it was over but his cumtree had other ideas. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his ample cock made my vertical moisture drain like a rabid dog. He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. The hammering makes me pour my minge monsoon all over his bald avenger. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his washington monument soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. After having my chamber of squelch plowed, he then proceeded to raid my shit winker. When he removed his pink tractor beam from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the stink pickle off his cunt plunger. The feeling of his man fat dripping down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. There was love mayonnaise dripping from his jebend and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The hammering of my puckered brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his purple-headed trouser snake deep in my poop chute. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load weeping from my cocoa channel and all over my lunchmeat. I can't wait to consume the man fat from his ramrod. With my purple cabbage now much like a bulldog licking piss from a thistle, he thought it was time to start sliding my shit winker. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a stink pickle, I wondered? The mixture of butt nugget and gentleman's relish in my mud flap created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. My cake hole was so full of womb raider and magician's wax, the cock custard was foaming down my chin and onto my love bubbles. It was bliss having his huge penis slid inside me again; stuffing my mound of love pudding with a squash just didn't get my bearded haddock pasty splurging like it used to. My clunge pool was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. Inserting a 9-iron into my ruby cave got me surging clunge gunge faster than snot off a whip. He crowned a giant stink pickle on my tatas just so he could consume it up like a pig at a trough. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's fishy flaps looking like a horse's collar, and I was no different! By now, my cod cave was seeping like a hungry pig at a trough. If I don't strum the banjo to get my shrimp sap dribbling from my enchilada of love, his cervix cigar is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling a motorway pileup. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my ground zero grotto and a gerbil up my poo pipe.

  My throat was so full of piss pipe and cock snot, the Da Vinci load was weeping down my chin and onto my tatas. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. There was cock snot weeping from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. I can't wait to consume the man fat from his blind butler. He launched a giant colon cobra on my top bollocks just so he could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo. When he removed his love lollipop from my vintage golf bag, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the colon cobra off his jade rod. With my panty hamster now much like a shot cat, he thought it was time to start stuffing my old dirt road. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a sewer trout, I wondered? If I don't finger blast to get my tuna tunnel tears sliming from my chamber of squelch, his long-dong silver is going to leave my spam castanets resembling that bathroom door in The Shining. It was bliss having his skeleton king rammed inside me again; stuffing my fuck gutter with my fist just didn't get my gaping clam cavern flooding like it used to. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his spunk-filled spam rocket made my vertical moisture slime like a slug in a salt mine. The feeling of his ectoplasm slobbering down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my cod cave got me spattering tuna tunnel tears faster than snot off a whip. My sperm socket was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his greasy kebab skewer slid deeper into my marmite motorway. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my split peach and a lightbulb up my marmite motorway. By now, my smush mitten was
haemorrhaging like a jizz waterfall. I awoke the next morning with my cod crater still leaking. I thought it was over but his Ocean's 11 Inches had other ideas. The pounding makes me spout my fallopian fish stock all over his skin flute. After having my tuna canal fucked, he then proceeded to fuck my balloon knot. The mixture of sewer trout and love piss in my brown eye created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. With his purple-headed trouser snake hammering deep into my oyster ditch, the sensation of his bugger king smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The unrelenting orgasms from his ramrod fucking my cod cave made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's flappy meal looking like a hippo's yawn, 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. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat dripping from my turd cutter and all over my spam castanets.

  If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my flange custard slobbering from my soft-shelled tuna taco, his cunt stretcher is going to leave my spam castanets resembling Pete Burns' lips. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his chorizo howitzer plunged deeper into my rusty sherif's badge. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. My wunder down under was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The mixture of sewer trout and cock custard in my tradesman's entrance created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his disco stick made my clunge gunge slobber like a broken coffee maker. The hammering makes me squirt my clunge gunge all over his cream reaper. The feeling of his ectoplasm seeping down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than snot off a whip. I awoke the next morning with my calamari cockring still dripping. I thought it was over but his slut slayer had other ideas. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his chubstep soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He crowned a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my top bollocks just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my slime hole and a barbie doll up my cocoa channel. With his throbbing quim dagger slamming deep into my clearing in the woods, the sensation of his spam dagger smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. It was bliss having his cream reaper rammed inside me again; stuffing my frilling pink golf bag with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my tuna canal pouring like it used to. The unrelenting orgasms from his vein cane fucking my cum dumpster made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. The raiding of my Oxo orifice was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus deep in my marmite motorway. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my wunder down under got me spouting spaff faster than a greased weasel shit. After having my municipal cockwash slammed, he then proceeded to thrust my shit winker. By now, my sperm socket was flowing like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish seeping from my fudge factory and all over my clap flaps. My cake hole was so full of bugger king and Da Vinci load, the love mayonnaise was draining down my chin and onto my superdroopers. With my vertical garden now much like badly battered road kill, he thought it was time to start sliding my rusty bullet hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a butt nugget, I wondered? There was penis pudding dribbling from his flesh gordon and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. I can't wait to suck the ectoplasm from his cheese-crusted cock. When he removed his mutton dagger from my turd-herder, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the Mr. Hanky off his bald-headed yogurt slinger.