by Amy Woods
With his one-eyed milkman raiding deep into my stench trench, the sensation of his spam dagger smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his flesh gordon stuffed deeper into my fudge factory. My cake hole was so full of thrill drill and gentleman's relish, the penis pudding was sliming down my chin and onto my superdroopers. The slamming makes me squirt my tuna tunnel tears all over his kebeb skewer. By now, my hatchet wound was leaking like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his jebend soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The mixture of toilet twinkie and penis pudding in my cocoa channel created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his brie baton made my shrimp sap leach like a rabid dog. I can't wait to chow down on the man fat from his bugger king. I awoke the next morning with my moose knuckle still weeping. I thought it was over but his mutton dagger had other ideas. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my tampon tunnel and my fist up my old dirt road. After having my cod crater raided, he then proceeded to fuck my puckered brown eye. It was bliss having his stilton sword rammed inside me again; stuffing my tuna canal with my fist just didn't get my gashtray pouring like it used to. When he removed his sperminator from my black hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the corn-eyed butt snake off his piss pipe. My ladytown was trembling like a shitting dog. The feeling of his man fat seeping down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The hammering of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his wrist-thick wand deep in my tradesman's entrance. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's fishy flaps looking like a manatee in yoga pants, and I was no different! Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy leaking from my other vagina and all over my spam castanets. The unrelenting orgasms from his cervix cigar hammering my ground zero grotto made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. With my clap flaps now much like a sand blasted tomato, he thought it was time to start shoving my vintage golf bag. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a butt nugget, I wondered? There was love piss seeping from his bald-headed yogurt slinger and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. He crowned a giant Mr. Hanky on my breasticles just so he could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Inserting a 9-iron into my clam-flavoured pothole got me gushing spaff faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel.
It was bliss having his cunt plunger plunged inside me again; stuffing my split peach with an antique doorknob just didn't get my penis pothole flooding like it used to. With my roast beef platter now much like a gutted trout, he thought it was time to start stuffing my ring piece. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? The unrelenting orgasms from his sperminator slamming my front bum made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. My quim was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. My cake hole was so full of balony pony and love piss, the gentleman's relish was dribbling down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. The feeling of his penis pudding haemorrhaging down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. There was penis pudding flowing from his love lollipop and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The hammering of my rusty sherif's badge was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his gristle missile deep in my brown eye. I can't wait to lap the baby gravy from his battering ram. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his purple-headed trouser snake rammed deeper into my Mavis Fritter. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like a stuntman's knee, and I was no different! 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 chamber of squelch and a squash up my chocolate starfish. With his muffbuster thrusting deep into my stench trench, the sensation of his blue-veined custard chucker smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load dribbling from my black hole and all over my fishy flaps. I awoke the next morning with my salmon slit still frothing. I thought it was over but his gristle missile had other ideas. Inserting a number of chillies into my one slice toaster got me splurging fallopian fish stock faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his balony pony soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He extruded a giant hardened fudge nugget on my superdroopers just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo. He munched on my lunchmeat, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. After having my slime hole slammed, he then proceeded to fuck my tradesman's entrance. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and magician's wax in my brown mile created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. By now, my vibrator crater was flowing like a broken fridge freezer. The hammering makes me surge my minge monsoon all over his turgid terror truncheon. If I don't tune the tuna to get my sex wee slobbering from my one slice toaster, his cheese-crusted cock is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling John Wayne's saddlebags. When he removed his stilton sword from my poop chute, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the hardened fudge nugget off his bald avenger.
After having my shamevelope plowed, he then proceeded to hammer my fudge factory. With my flappy meal now much like a bulldog in a windtunnel, he thought it was time to start sliding my puckered brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a sewer trout, I wondered? I can't wait to consume the Da Vinci load from his bugger king. With his timed slimer plowing deep into my fuck gutter, the sensation of his love muscle smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. By now, my kipper dinghy was seeping like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. The feeling of his cock snot slobbering down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than snot off a whip. He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. The unrelenting orgasms from his thrill drill pounding my chlamydia canal made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. The mixture of stink pickle and man fat in my old dirt road created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's open-faced ham sandwich looking like a stuntman's knee, and I was no different! There was steamin' semen oozing from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The hammering makes me squirt my minge monsoon all over his cheese-crusted cock. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his washington monument made my shrimp sap drain like a George Foreman grill. If I don't strum the banjo to get my beige slime seeping from my spunk dungeon, his huge penis is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling a sand blasted tomato. It was bliss having his bugger king rammed inside me again; stuffing my front bum with a lightbulb just didn't get my spunk dungeon surging like it used to. Inserting a number of chillies into my quim got me flowing tuna tunnel tears faster than snot off a whip. I awoke the next morning with my vibration station still oozing. I thought it was over but his cheese-crusted cock had other ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his chubstep probed deeper into my black hole. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my hot pocket and a barbie doll up my fudge factory. He crowned a giant colon cobra on my tatas just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. When he removed his turgid terror truncheon from my rusty bul
let hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the hardened fudge nugget off his spunk-filled spam rocket. The plowing of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his pink tractor beam deep in my tradesman's entrance. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his spunk-filled spam rocket soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My cod crater was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. My mouth was so full of all-beef thermometer and gentleman's relish, the love piss was haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my chest puppies.
Some girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my hot pocket and a squash up my poop chute. The feeling of his magician's wax draining down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. He launched a giant Mr. Hanky 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 Nelson's Column slid deeper into my mud flap. The mixture of butt nugget and steamin' semen in my brown eye created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. If I don't fluff the muff to get my sex wee leaching from my meat purse, his thrill drill is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling a stamped bat. I can't wait to gobble the penis pudding from his balony pony. There was magician's wax foaming from his stilton sword and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms from his vein cane fucking my cock holster made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. By now, my kipper dinghy was draining like a slavering dog. The thrusting makes me flow my sex wee all over his ramrod. My cake hole was so full of love lollipop and cock custard, the gentleman's relish was flowing down my chin and onto my droopies. When he removed his battering ram from my Mavis Fritter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the footlong fudge bullet off his blind butler. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise leaking from my other vagina and all over my purple cabbage. With his thrill drill thrusting deep into my municipal cockwash, the sensation of his bald avenger smashing my cervix made me quake like a tasered slab of chopped liver. With my vertical smile now much like a clown's pocket, he thought it was time to start probing my fudge factory. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? After having my gammon alley raided, he then proceeded to fuck my fart valve. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his Ocean's 11 Inches soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The fucking of my mud flap was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his tenderloin truncheon deep in my old dirt road. It was bliss having his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon probed inside me again; stuffing my cock holster with a 9-iron just didn't get my vibrator crater pouring like it used to. My moose knuckle was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my penis pothole got me spritzing shrimp sap faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like a bucket of smashed crabs, and I was no different! I awoke the next morning with my shame portal still slobbering. I thought it was over but his one-eyed milkman had other ideas. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his vein cane made my tuna tunnel tears slobber like a slug in a salt mine.
Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my cod crater got me squirting sex wee faster than a greased weasel shit. There was love piss trickling from his cumtree and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like a bulldog licking piss from a thistle, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his purple-headed trouser snake fucking my front bum made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. I can't wait to chow down on the cock custard from his flesh gordon. With his cervix cigar fucking deep into my meat purse, the sensation of his vein cane smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his veiny quim prod made my pussy batter leak like a hungry pig at a trough. I awoke the next morning with my meat purse still trickling. I thought it was over but his giggle stick had other ideas. With my meaty hangers now much like John Wayne's saddlebags, he thought it was time to start stuffing my fart valve. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a colon cobra, I wondered? The thrusting of my puckered brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his vein cane deep in my vintage golf bag. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard draining from my old dirt road and all over my purple cabbage. After having my mound of love pudding hammered, he then proceeded to thrust my poo pipe. He munched on my flappy meal, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. The raiding makes me splurge my vertical moisture all over his one-eyed monster. My mouth was so full of battering ram and love mayonnaise, the Da Vinci load was slobbering down my chin and onto my mammaries. It was bliss having his timed slimer rammed inside me again; stuffing my stench trench with a gerbil just didn't get my ruby cave gushing like it used to. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my sex wee trickling from my whispering eye, his womb raider is going to leave my beef curtains resembling a stamped bat. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my cod cave and a number of chillies up my cocoa channel. By now, my penis pothole was frothing like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. The feeling of his cock custard seeping down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. My gaping clam cavern was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his chorizo howitzer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and love mayonnaise in my brown mile created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. When he removed his cunt stretcher from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the hardened fudge nugget off his spunk-filled spam rocket. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his ample cock plunged deeper into my turd cutter.
With his love lollipop hammering deep into my hatchet wound, the sensation of his cheese-crusted cock smashing my cervix made me quake like a rat on acid. The unrelenting orgasms from his battering ram pounding my gaping clam cavern made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. After having my quim hammered, he then proceeded to plow my shit winker. Some girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my kipper dinghy and a 9-iron up my rusty sherif's badge. By now, my tampon tunnel was seeping like a George Foreman grill. If I don't tune the tuna to get my tuna tunnel tears weeping from my ground zero grotto, his bald avenger is going to leave my flappy meal resembling Terry Waite's allotment. It was bliss having his huge penis slid inside me again; stuffing my tuna canal with a gerbil just didn't get my clam-flavoured pothole ejecting like it used to. There was cock custard foaming from his slut slayer and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The feeling of his baby gravy oozing down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than snot off a whip. He munched on my lunchmeat, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load frothing from my soft tight anus and all over my clap flaps. My fuck trench was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. The thrusting makes me spout my spaff all over his chubstep. He eased out a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my superdroopers just so he could consume it up like a hungry hungry hippo. I awoke the next morning with my depravity cavity still sliming. I thought it was over but his turgid terror truncheon had other ideas. When he r
emoved his blue-veined custard chucker from my poo pipe, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the colon cobra off his greasy slimelight. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his mutton dagger slid deeper into my balloon knot. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like a horse's collar, and I was no different! The mixture of Mr. Hanky and ectoplasm in my turd-herder created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The raiding of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his batter blaster deep in my soft tight anus. My throat was so full of meaty member and love mayonnaise, the Da Vinci load was seeping down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his washington monument soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to lap the steamin' semen from his chorizo howitzer. With my velcro triangle now much like a clown's pocket, he thought it was time to start shoving my Oxo orifice. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a toilet twinkie, I wondered? Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his blue-veined custard chucker made my spaff leach like a broken coffee maker.
