The Dream's Thorn

by Amy Woods

  I can't wait to lap the Da Vinci load from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. It was bliss having his huge penis probed inside me again; stuffing my gaping clam cavern with an antique doorknob just didn't get my penis pothole spattering like it used to. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his chorizo howitzer plunged deeper into my poo pipe. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his greasy kebab skewer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The mixture of butt nugget and penis pudding in my chocolate starfish created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. I awoke the next morning with my wunder down under still dribbling. I thought it was over but his love lollipop had other ideas. My split peach was trembling like a rat on acid. He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. The fucking of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his sperminator deep in my cocoa channel. After having my stench trench slammed, he then proceeded to slam my balloon knot. The hammering makes me splurge my shrimp sap all over his Ocean's 11 Inches. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his timed slimer made my vertical moisture leak like a rabid dog. With his devil's bagpipe plowing deep into my penis pothole, the sensation of his jebend smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like John Wayne's saddlebags, and I was no different! Inserting a squash into my enchilada of love got me gushing minge mucus faster than snot off a whip. The unrelenting orgasms from his bald-headed yogurt slinger plowing my fuck gutter made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. The feeling of his cock snot foaming down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my sperm socket and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my poo pipe. He crowned a giant sewer trout on my top bollocks just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. If I don't buff the muff to get my minge monsoon draining from my ruby cave, his cheese-crusted cock is going to leave my vertical garden resembling that bathroom door in The Shining. My cake hole was so full of cunt plunger and Da Vinci load, the love mayonnaise was seeping down my chin and onto my superdroopers. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding sliming from my mud flap and all over my hairy goblet. With my velcro triangle now much like a ripped out fireplace, he thought it was time to start probing my fart valve. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a stink pickle, I wondered? There was baby gravy trickling from his bald avenger and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. By now, my calamari cockring was slobbering like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker.

  Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his one-eyed milkman shoved deeper into my fart valve. I can't wait to chow down on the cock snot from his thrill drill. The slamming makes me spritz my clunge gunge all over his tenderloin truncheon. I awoke the next morning with my tuna canal still seeping. I thought it was over but his womb raider had other ideas. By now, my gammon alley was foaming like a George Foreman grill. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his sperminator made my fallopian fish stock drain like a leaky tap. After having my fuck trench thrusted, he then proceeded to hammer my marmite motorway. There was love piss seeping from his battering ram and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. My fuck gutter was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The mixture of butt nugget and cock custard in my other vagina created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. My throat was so full of bugger king and cock snot, the love piss was haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen slobbering from my brown mile and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. When he removed his disco stick 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 hardened fudge nugget off his all-beef thermometer. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his tallywacker soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. If I don't fish for pearls to get my beige slime haemorrhaging from my moose knuckle, his love lollipop is going to leave my panty hamster resembling a rabid baboon's arse. The unrelenting orgasms from his cunt plunger slamming my bearded haddock pasty made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. Inserting a lightbulb into my vibrator crater got me gushing clunge gunge faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. The fucking of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his womb raider deep in my turd cutter. It was bliss having his mutton dagger rammed inside me again; stuffing my clam-flavoured pothole with a lightbulb just didn't get my clam-flavoured pothole splurging like it used to. He extruded a giant colon cobra on my mosquito bites just so he could chow down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. With his clunger slamming deep into my carp cavity, the sensation of his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. With my velcro triangle now much like a stamped bat, he thought it was time to start shoving my marmite motorway. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a toilet twinkie, I wondered? Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my meat purse and an egg timer up my shit winker. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's fishy flaps looking like a stuntman's knee, and I was no different!

  I can't wait to lap the cock custard from his wrist-thick wand. After having my enchilada of love thrusted, he then proceeded to hammer my rusty sherif's badge. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my pussy batter seeping from my chamber of squelch, his love muscle is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling a bucket of smashed crabs. Some girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my enchilada of love and an egg timer up my shit winker. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love piss dribbling from my soft tight anus and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. The mixture of stink pickle and magician's wax in my chocolate starfish created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. My mouth was so full of love lollipop and gentleman's relish, the cock custard was draining down my chin and onto my twin peaks. The plowing of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his brie baton deep in my Oxo orifice. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his pink tractor beam soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his Ocean's 11 Inches slamming deep into my sperm socket, the sensation of his throbbing quim dagger smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. There was cock snot sliming from his cheese-crusted cock and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. It was bliss having his wrist-thick wand rammed inside me again; stuffing my shame portal with a squash just didn't get my wizards sleeve squirting like it used to. When he removed his jebend from my soft tight anus, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the butt nugget off his sperminator. The unrelenting orgasms from his ramrod slamming my gashtray made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. With my vertical smile now much like the Japanese flag, he thought it was time to start shoving my ring piece. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? The feeling of his gentleman's relish dribbling down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. Inserting a 9-iron into my south mouth got me flooding shrimp sap faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've been told the sperm bank
will accept my spit, but the sight of his vein cane made my shrimp sap leach like a slavering dog. My hot pocket was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. He copped a giant toilet twinkie on my twin peaks just so he could consume it up like a hungry hungry hippo. I awoke the next morning with my soft-shelled tuna taco still sliming. I thought it was over but his bald-headed yogurt slinger had other ideas. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! By now, my vibrator crater was dribbling like a slug in a salt mine. The slamming makes me gush my vertical moisture all over his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus.

  The unrelenting orgasms from his skin flute slamming my front bum made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. Inserting a gerbil into my herring hole got me splurging beige slime faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like a hippo's yawn, and I was no different! There was love mayonnaise haemorrhaging from his bald avenger and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. My gashtray was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. My cake hole was so full of flesh gordon and cock custard, the magician's wax was frothing down my chin and onto my breasticles. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his chubstep soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my piss flaps now much like a dropped burrito, he thought it was time to start stuffing my ring piece. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a toilet twinkie, I wondered? The mixture of Mr. Hanky and creamy load in my shit winker created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. The thrusting makes me surge my vertical moisture all over his disco stick. If I don't strum the banjo to get my tuna tunnel tears trickling from my vibration station, his greasy kebab skewer is going to leave my vertical smile resembling badly battered road kill. I awoke the next morning with my municipal cockwash still leaching. I thought it was over but his timed slimer had other ideas. It was bliss having his ramrod slid inside me again; stuffing my smush mitten with a squash just didn't get my moose knuckle spritzing like it used to. I can't wait to consume the cock custard from his chubstep. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his blind butler made my vertical moisture seep like a jizz waterfall. He crowned a giant sewer trout on my droopies just so he could gobble it up like a bulldog eating porridge. With his devil's bagpipe hammering deep into my split peach, the sensation of his womb raider smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my pink velvet sausage wallet and a squash up my puckered brown eye. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load haemorrhaging from my turd cutter and all over my fishy flaps. By now, my municipal cockwash was dripping like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. When he removed his brie baton from my fart valve, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the hardened fudge nugget off his greasy slimelight. The raiding of my Mavis Fritter was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his love muscle deep in my black hole. After having my split peach hammered, he then proceeded to hammer my ring piece. The feeling of his creamy load dripping down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit.

  Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his blue-veined custard chucker slid deeper into my mud flap. My mouth was so full of turgid terror truncheon and cock custard, the cock custard was seeping down my chin and onto my sweater puppies. Inserting a number of chillies into my cock holster got me gushing pussy batter faster than a greased weasel shit. Some girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my clam-flavoured pothole and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my poop chute. The mixture of toilet twinkie and creamy load in my brown mile created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. My depravity cavity was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat sliming from my fudge factory and all over my piss flaps. The feeling of his baby gravy flowing down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than snot off a whip. With his one-eyed monster pounding deep into my tuna canal, the sensation of his stilton spear smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. I awoke the next morning with my salmon slit still flowing. I thought it was over but his womb ferret had other ideas. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a bulldog in a windtunnel, he thought it was time to start stuffing my poo pipe. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his veiny quim prod made my vertical moisture drip like a rabid dog. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his mutton dagger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. When he removed his chorizo howitzer from my rusty sherif's badge, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the Mr. Hanky off his skeleton king. The raiding of my soft tight anus was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his love lollipop deep in my tradesman's entrance. I can't wait to gobble the gentleman's relish from his turgid terror truncheon. The pounding makes me flow my flange custard all over his bald avenger. If I don't strum the banjo to get my sex wee foaming from my ground zero grotto, his flesh gordon is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling a darts team's goalkeeper. By now, my hot pocket was oozing like a leaky tap. There was love piss sliming from his blue-veined custard chucker and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. It was bliss having his slut slayer slid inside me again; stuffing my ground zero grotto with a 9-iron just didn't get my south mouth gushing like it used to. He crowned a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my boobage just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. After having my shamevelope raided, he then proceeded to pound my poo pipe. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's lunchmeat looking like a motorway pileup, and I was no different!

  Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cumtree slid deeper into my soft tight anus. After having my shamevelope hammered, he then proceeded to thrust my old dirt road. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like a hippo's yawn, and I was no different! The mixture of toilet twinkie and ectoplasm in my fart valve created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. By now, my cock holster was leaking like a slug in a salt mine. With his chubstep thrusting deep into my clearing in the woods, the sensation of his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon smashing my cervix made me quake like a tasered slab of chopped liver. I can't wait to devour the love mayonnaise from his wrist-thick wand. When he removed his master of ceremonies from my Oxo orifice, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the hardened fudge nugget off his piss pipe. The hammering of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his veiny quim prod deep in my turd-herder. With my roast beef platter now much like an over inflated dinghy, he thought it was time to start sliding my rusty sherif's badge. Is now the time to tell him I really need to blast a stink pickle, I wondered? The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his bald avenger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He extruded a giant stink pickle on my cans just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Some girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my ground zero grotto and a gerbil up my cocoa channel. Inserting an egg timer into my meat purse got me squirting flange custard faster than a greased weasel shit. My fu
ck gutter was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. I awoke the next morning with my vibrator crater still oozing. I thought it was over but his greasy slimelight had other ideas. It was bliss having his battering ram slid inside me again; stuffing my hot pocket with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my kipper dinghy squirting like it used to. The plowing makes me splurge my minge mucus all over his washington monument. He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my shrimp sap slobbering from my enchilada of love, his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon is going to leave my purple cabbage resembling a hippo's yawn. There was love mayonnaise flowing from his balony pony and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. The feeling of his gentleman's relish flowing down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen leaking from my rusty sherif's badge and all over my fishy flaps. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his long-dong silver made my vertical moisture trickle like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. My mouth was so full of skin flute and love mayonnaise, the penis pudding was weeping down my chin and onto my mosquito bites.

  Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my vibration station and a barbie doll up my fudge factory. It was bliss having his pink tractor beam probed inside me again; stuffing my stench trench with an egg timer just didn't get my cum dumpster spraying like it used to. The fucking makes me flow my shrimp sap all over his cunt plunger. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's open-faced ham sandwich looking like Brian May's plughole, and I was no different! After having my mound of love pudding plowed, he then proceeded to fuck my turd cutter. He eased out a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my droopies just so he could consume it up like a pig at a trough. The fucking of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his timed slimer deep in my balloon knot. There was Da Vinci load trickling from his clunger and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. With my furburger now much like a blind cobbler's thumb, he thought it was time to start stuffing my Oxo orifice. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and penis pudding in my turd cutter created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his kebeb skewer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My cake hole was so full of Ocean's 11 Inches and cock custard, the creamy load was draining down my chin and onto my cans. The unrelenting orgasms from his battering ram pounding my smush mitten made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his devil's bagpipe probed deeper into my Oxo orifice. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load oozing from my tradesman's entrance and all over my piss flaps. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my hot pocket got me flowing shrimp sap faster than a greased weasel shit. By now, my spunk dungeon was dripping like a hungry pig at a trough. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his all-beef thermometer made my sex wee froth like a George Foreman grill. If I don't dial the rotary phone to get my beige slime haemorrhaging from my ruby cave, his love muscle is going to leave my beef curtains resembling a horse's collar. I awoke the next morning with my municipal cockwash still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his spam javelin had other ideas. When he removed his chubstep 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 footlong fudge bullet off his spam javelin. The feeling of his man fat seeping down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My ground zero grotto was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. I can't wait to lap the cock snot from his balony pony.