by Amy Woods
With his cunt plunger slamming deep into my meat purse, the sensation of his blue-veined custard chucker smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. When he removed his all-beef thermometer from my rusty sherif's badge, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the colon cobra off his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. The feeling of his baby gravy seeping down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise weeping from my rusty sherif's badge and all over my flappy meal. After having my fuck trench slammed, he then proceeded to thrust my puckered brown eye. I awoke the next morning with my vibrator crater still sliming. I thought it was over but his purple beaver buster had other ideas. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his bald avenger made my shrimp sap leach like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. There was cock custard frothing from his spunk-filled spam rocket and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The hammering of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his greasy slimelight deep in my black hole. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his ramrod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My split peach was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. By now, my Quimcy, M.E. was dripping like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like a ripped out fireplace, and I was no different! Inserting a lightbulb into my south mouth got me spritzing beige slime faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. It was bliss having his all-beef thermometer slid inside me again; stuffing my Quimcy, M.E. with a barbie doll just didn't get my gaping clam cavern spouting like it used to. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my spaff slobbering from my tampon tunnel, his ample cock is going to leave my furburger resembling John Wayne's saddlebags. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his veiny quim prod slid deeper into my shit winker. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and cock custard in my Mavis Fritter created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. He pinched off a giant colon cobra on my twin peaks just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The unrelenting orgasms from his chubstep fucking my quim made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my cod crater and a number of chillies up my Oxo orifice. My throat was so full of veiny quim prod and penis pudding, the love mayonnaise was haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my top bollocks. I can't wait to suck the Da Vinci load from his ample cock. With my hairy goblet now much like the Japanese flag, he thought it was time to start plunging my turd-herder. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a sewer trout, I wondered?
It was bliss having his chorizo howitzer rammed inside me again; stuffing my enchilada of love with a lightbulb just didn't get my chamber of squelch spouting like it used to. 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 mud flap. There was gentleman's relish leaching from his one-eyed milkman and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. 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 fuck trench and a lightbulb up my shit winker. After having my herring hole raided, he then proceeded to pound my brown eye. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my velcro triangle now much like the south end of a badger going north, he thought it was time to start shoving my fart valve. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his skeleton king made my minge mucus leach like a broken coffee maker. By now, my fuck gutter was flowing like a broken coffee maker. The unrelenting orgasms from his cunt plunger plowing my cod cave made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. My moose knuckle was trembling like a shitting dog. He munched on my hairy goblet, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my wunder down under got me squirting clunge gunge faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He launched a giant sewer trout on my tatas just so he could chow down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. My cake hole was so full of blind butler and love piss, the love piss was frothing down my chin and onto my love bubbles. With his tallywacker raiding deep into my chamber of squelch, the sensation of his veiny quim prod smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and cock snot in my shit winker created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The slamming of my puckered brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his love lollipop deep in my shit winker. If I don't flick the bean to get my shrimp sap sliming from my quim, his blind butler is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling a darts team's goalkeeper. When he removed his cunt plunger 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 suck the colon cobra off his brie baton. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load trickling from my turd cutter and all over my flappy meal. I awoke the next morning with my municipal cockwash still flowing. I thought it was over but his meaty member had other ideas. I can't wait to lap the love mayonnaise from his brie baton. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like a bucket of smashed crabs, and I was no different! The feeling of his gentleman's relish leaching down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel.
The feeling of his penis pudding trickling down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like a blind cobbler's thumb, and I was no different! When he removed his jebend from my vintage golf bag, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the toilet twinkie off his jebend. With my panty hamster now much like Brian May's plughole, he thought it was time to start plunging my other vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? My chlamydia canal was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. I can't wait to lap the magician's wax from his purple beaver buster. With his spunk-filled spam rocket thrusting deep into my furry cup, the sensation of his greasy slimelight smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The hammering makes me splurge my clunge gunge all over his Nelson's Column. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen seeping from my mud flap and all over my roast beef platter. There was man fat leaking from his spam javelin and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my pink velvet sausage wallet and a lightbulb up my brown mile. The plowing of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his mutton dagger deep in my puckered brown eye. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his purple-headed trouser snake made my tuna tunnel tears trickle like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. He arced a giant colon cobra on my chest puppies just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his muffbuster soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. If I don't study english cliterature to get my vertical moisture trickling from my salmon slit, his battering ram is going to leave my purple cabbage resembling the south end of a badger going north. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and creamy load in my brown mile cre
ated the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his love muscle rammed deeper into my cocoa channel. I awoke the next morning with my quim still dribbling. I thought it was over but his balony pony had other ideas. The unrelenting orgasms from his womb ferret slamming my fuck trench made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. It was bliss having his gristle missile shoved inside me again; stuffing my spunk dungeon with a barbie doll just didn't get my vaginal bacon buffet pouring like it used to. After having my tampon tunnel fucked, he then proceeded to plow my vintage golf bag. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my tuna canal got me squirting sex wee faster than snot off a whip. He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. By now, my meat purse was dribbling like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls.
The pounding of my chocolate starfish was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his throbbing quim dagger deep in my turd-herder. The pounding makes me squirt my flange custard all over his bugger king. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard draining from my fart valve and all over my roast beef platter. My shame portal was trembling like a shitting dog. I can't wait to consume the baby gravy from his jade rod. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my Quimcy, M.E. and my fist up my black hole. After having my cod crater slammed, he then proceeded to hammer my old dirt road. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his giggle stick soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my front bum was flowing like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. The unrelenting orgasms from his devil's bagpipe raiding my mound of love pudding made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. With my panty hamster now much like a shot cat, he thought it was time to start stuffing my rusty sherif's badge. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? He blasted a giant footlong fudge bullet on my top bollocks just so he could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo. I awoke the next morning with my carp cavity still flowing. I thought it was over but his thrill drill had other ideas. The feeling of his penis pudding frothing down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. There was steamin' semen sliming from his spam dagger and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. It was bliss having his jebend rammed inside me again; stuffing my chamber of squelch with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my wizards sleeve flowing like it used to. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like a manatee in yoga pants, and I was no different! If I don't flick the bean to get my minge monsoon weeping from my mound of love pudding, his womb raider is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling a darts team's goalkeeper. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his tenderloin truncheon rammed deeper into my mud flap. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his purple-headed trouser snake made my clunge gunge foam like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. With his kebeb skewer pounding deep into my front bum, the sensation of his balony pony smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and magician's wax in my brown eye created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Inserting a barbie doll into my calamari cockring got me spattering flange custard faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. When he removed his love muscle from my puckered brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the butt nugget off his blind butler.
With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a darts team's goalkeeper, he thought it was time to start plunging my shit winker. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a stink pickle, I wondered? With his stilton sword pounding deep into my whispering eye, the sensation of his turgid terror truncheon smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. I awoke the next morning with my birth cannon still trickling. I thought it was over but his love muscle had other ideas. After having my gashtray pounded, he then proceeded to fuck my balloon knot. When he removed his bald avenger from my shit winker, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the Mr. Hanky off his balony pony. Inserting an egg timer into my salmon slit got me spraying fallopian fish stock faster than snot off a whip. The feeling of his creamy load flowing down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than snot off a whip. I can't wait to suck the cock snot from his purple-headed trouser snake. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my cock holster and a lightbulb up my soft tight anus. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard frothing from my rusty sherif's badge and all over my flappy meal. He launched a giant Mr. Hanky on my tatas just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and steamin' semen in my brown mile created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. My enchilada of love was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. By now, my front bum was haemorrhaging like a slug in a salt mine. There was baby gravy foaming from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. My cake hole was so full of battering ram and penis pudding, the steamin' semen was flowing down my chin and onto my breasticles. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my tuna tunnel tears draining from my split peach, his piss pipe is going to leave my vertical garden resembling a bulldog in a windtunnel. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his clunger made my tuna tunnel tears drip like a slug in a salt mine. It was bliss having his gristle missile plunged inside me again; stuffing my slime hole with a lightbulb just didn't get my vaginal bacon buffet surging like it used to. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his Nelson's Column shoved deeper into my vintage golf bag. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like a ripped out fireplace, and I was no different! He munched on my lunchmeat, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. The unrelenting orgasms from his giggle stick slamming my calamari cockring made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. The plowing makes me flow my flange custard all over his cunt stretcher. The fucking of my fart valve was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his cumtree deep in my rusty sherif's badge.
I awoke the next morning with my carp cavity still frothing. I thought it was over but his giggle stick had other ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his master of ceremonies stuffed deeper into my vintage golf bag. There was cock snot sliming from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and cock custard in my poo pipe created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The feeling of his man fat slobbering down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than snot off a whip. By now, my soft-shelled tuna taco was draining like a jizz waterfall. I can't wait to gobble the baby gravy from his master of ceremonies. The pounding makes me flow my clunge gunge all over his muffbuster. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard leaching from my poo pipe and all over my panty hamster. It was bliss having his wrist-thick wand plunged inside me again; stuffing my furry cup with a lightbulb just didn't get my Quimcy, M.E. splurging like it used to. The fucking of my brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his washington monument deep in my Mavis Fritter. My clearing in the woods was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. With his throbbing quim dagger thrusting deep into my carp cavity, the sensation of his long-don
g silver smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. After having my carp cavity plowed, he then proceeded to pound my ring piece. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his womb raider made my flange custard slime like a George Foreman grill. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his clunger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my front bum and a barbie doll up my turd cutter. He rolled a giant Mr. Hanky on my sweater puppies just so he could chow down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. My throat was so full of flesh gordon and man fat, the steamin' semen was oozing down my chin and onto my breasticles. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like a stamped bat, and I was no different! If I don't flick the bean to get my minge monsoon dripping from my furry cup, his turgid terror truncheon is going to leave my vertical smile resembling that bathroom door in The Shining. The unrelenting orgasms from his Ocean's 11 Inches plowing my moose knuckle made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. He munched on my flappy meal, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. Inserting a gerbil into my cock holster got me ejecting spaff faster than a greased weasel shit. With my panty hamster now much like a ripped out fireplace, he thought it was time to start stuffing my turd-herder. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a stink pickle, I wondered?
