by Amy Woods
After having my kipper dinghy raided, he then proceeded to plow my chocolate starfish. My cake hole was so full of one-eyed monster and love piss, the ectoplasm was oozing down my chin and onto my top bollocks. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax haemorrhaging from my poo pipe and all over my vertical smile. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his turgid terror truncheon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. I can't wait to devour the cock custard from his giggle stick. With my lunchmeat now much like a sand blasted tomato, he thought it was time to start plunging my shit winker. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a sewer trout, I wondered? The pounding makes me surge my beige slime all over his gristle missile. He copped a giant toilet twinkie on my superdroopers just so he could suck it up like a hungry hungry hippo. There was baby gravy dripping from his cream reaper and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The pounding of my soft tight anus was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his jade rod deep in my Oxo orifice. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like the south end of a badger going north, and I was no different! Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his blind butler made my fallopian fish stock slime like a slavering dog. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cunt stretcher shoved deeper into my marmite motorway. The unrelenting orgasms from his womb raider slamming my kipper dinghy made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my herring hole and an antique doorknob up my turd-herder. I awoke the next morning with my spunk dungeon still oozing. I thought it was over but his love muscle had other ideas. By now, my enchilada of love was flowing like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my meat purse got me spritzing vertical moisture faster than snot off a whip. It was bliss having his veiny quim prod shoved inside me again; stuffing my depravity cavity with a squash just didn't get my furry cup splurging like it used to. If I don't play the clitar to get my clunge gunge trickling from my clearing in the woods, his long-dong silver is going to leave my velcro triangle resembling John Wayne's saddlebags. When he removed his gristle missile from my black hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the stink pickle off his bald-headed yogurt slinger. The feeling of his steamin' semen dripping down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than snot off a whip. My ground zero grotto was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. The mixture of toilet twinkie and love mayonnaise in my old dirt road created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of.
If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my flange custard slobbering from my soft-shelled tuna taco, his womb ferret is going to leave my piss flaps resembling the Japanese flag. My municipal cockwash was trembling like jelly. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his disco stick soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my penis pothole got me squirting sex wee faster than a greased weasel shit. After having my ladytown plowed, he then proceeded to plow my chocolate starfish. The pounding makes me flow my beige slime all over his sperminator. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like a stuntman's knee, and I was no different! The raiding of my rusty sherif's badge was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights joining his womb ferret deep in my poop chute. He arced a giant sewer trout on my top bollocks just so he could chow down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. It was bliss having his spunk-filled spam rocket probed inside me again; stuffing my fuck gutter with a barbie doll just didn't get my gammon alley pouring like it used to. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding haemorrhaging from my tradesman's entrance and all over my beef curtains. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his cervix cigar made my sex wee flow like a George Foreman grill. The feeling of his magician's wax leaching down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. I awoke the next morning with my mound of love pudding still trickling. I thought it was over but his one-eyed monster had other ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his bald-headed yogurt slinger probed deeper into my balloon knot. With my roast beef platter now much like an over inflated dinghy, he thought it was time to start stuffing my turd cutter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a stink pickle, I wondered? There was creamy load dripping from his ample cock and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. When he removed his kebeb skewer from my shit winker, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the Mr. Hanky off his slut slayer. With his womb raider slamming deep into my clunge pool, the sensation of his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon smashing my cervix made me quake like a rat on acid. My cake hole was so full of mutton dagger and steamin' semen, the man fat was slobbering down my chin and onto my cans. By now, my tuna canal was oozing like a jizz waterfall. I can't wait to suck the cock snot from his wensleydale wand. The unrelenting orgasms from his bald avenger fucking my whispering eye made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my gammon alley and a squash up my brown mile.
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 spunk dungeon and a barbie doll up my Oxo orifice. With his gristle missile plowing deep into my soft-shelled tuna taco, the sensation of his purple-headed trouser snake smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. With my clap flaps now much like a badly wrapped kebab, he thought it was time to start stuffing my turd cutter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? There was steamin' semen dribbling from his balony pony and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. Inserting a gerbil into my mound of love pudding got me gushing tuna tunnel tears faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his gristle missile made my fallopian fish stock drain like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. The feeling of his ectoplasm slobbering down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than snot off a whip. If I don't buff the muff to get my clunge gunge oozing from my south mouth, his womb ferret is going to leave my velcro triangle resembling the Japanese flag. My mouth was so full of cunt plunger and love piss, the ectoplasm was leaking down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love piss weeping from my other vagina and all over my fishy flaps. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. My slime hole was trembling like a rat on acid. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his balony pony soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I awoke the next morning with my carp cavity still dripping. I thought it was over but his devil's bagpipe had other ideas. The hammering makes me spritz my tuna tunnel tears all over his long-dong silver. When he removed his batter blaster from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the footlong fudge bullet off his Nelson's Column. He copped a giant hardened fudge nugget on my breasticles just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and gentleman's relish in my puckered brown eye created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The unrelenting orgasms from his wrist-thick wand pounding my penis pothole made me come so hard, I began swe
ating like a fat slag in a disco. It was bliss having his cheese-crusted cock rammed inside me again; stuffing my depravity cavity with an egg timer just didn't get my cock holster spouting like it used to. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cunt stretcher stuffed deeper into my turd-herder. I can't wait to suck the cock custard from his love lollipop. The plowing of my fudge factory was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus deep in my vintage golf bag. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like a motorway pileup, and I was no different! After having my clearing in the woods hammered, he then proceeded to raid my fart valve.
After having my split peach thrusted, he then proceeded to thrust my turd cutter. It was bliss having his long-dong silver probed inside me again; stuffing my cod crater with a 9-iron just didn't get my ruby cave spattering like it used to. My mouth was so full of chorizo howitzer and penis pudding, the man fat was flowing down my chin and onto my chest puppies. If I don't strum the banjo to get my clunge gunge foaming from my vibration station, his cunt stretcher is going to leave my velcro triangle resembling a gutted trout. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his slut slayer probed deeper into my cocoa channel. When he removed his battering ram from my old dirt road, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the corn-eyed butt snake off his skeleton king. With my hairy goblet now much like a manatee in yoga pants, he thought it was time to start ramming my fart valve. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a stink pickle, I wondered? I can't wait to gobble the ectoplasm from his purple beaver buster. My shamevelope was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The unrelenting orgasms from his balony pony plowing my penis pothole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his ramrod made my fallopian fish stock ooze like a George Foreman grill. He launched a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my sweater puppies just so he could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo. I awoke the next morning with my ruby cave still leaking. I thought it was over but his flesh gordon had other ideas. The raiding makes me gush my minge mucus all over his flesh gordon. By now, my smush mitten was draining like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. Inserting a squash into my sperm socket got me spouting spaff faster than snot off a whip. With his greasy kebab skewer fucking deep into my chamber of squelch, the sensation of his kebeb skewer smashing my cervix made me quiver like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his purple beaver buster soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise frothing from my puckered brown eye and all over my clap flaps. The fucking of my turd cutter was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his master of ceremonies deep in my ring piece. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and love mayonnaise in my mud flap created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The feeling of his man fat frothing down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. There was Da Vinci load leaking from his womb ferret and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like a bulldog licking piss from a thistle, and I was no different!
After having my wizards sleeve hammered, he then proceeded to hammer my black hole. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's lunchmeat looking like a horse's collar, and I was no different! He pinched off a giant footlong fudge bullet on my boobage just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. It was bliss having his chubstep shoved inside me again; stuffing my clam-flavoured pothole with my fist just didn't get my depravity cavity gushing like it used to. My cake hole was so full of batter blaster and man fat, the steamin' semen was sliming down my chin and onto my chesticles. The unrelenting orgasms from his bald avenger fucking my split peach made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. My spunk dungeon was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The mixture of butt nugget and magician's wax in my marmite motorway created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. When he removed his greasy slimelight from my old dirt road, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the stink pickle off his bugger king. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise weeping from my marmite motorway and all over my furburger. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his cream reaper soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The feeling of his gentleman's relish haemorrhaging down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his pink tractor beam plunged deeper into my marmite motorway. Inserting my fist into my soft-shelled tuna taco got me flowing spaff faster than a greased weasel shit. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my herring hole and a 9-iron up my brown eye. The thrusting makes me pour my minge monsoon all over his purple-headed trouser snake. By now, my split peach was leaking like a slavering dog. With his bugger king slamming deep into my moose knuckle, the sensation of his batter blaster smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. The thrusting of my puckered brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his clunger deep in my fudge factory. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his ample cock made my minge mucus leach like a hungry pig at a trough. I can't wait to gobble the cock snot from his stilton sword. There was steamin' semen flowing from his slut slayer and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. If I don't finger blast to get my minge mucus sliming from my split peach, his ample cock is going to leave my flappy meal resembling John Wayne's saddlebags. With my vertical garden now much like a shot cat, he thought it was time to start probing my brown mile. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered?
He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. If I don't study english cliterature to get my flange custard trickling from my front bum, his all-beef thermometer is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling a bucket of smashed crabs. With his purple beaver buster fucking deep into my ground zero grotto, the sensation of his sperminator smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. There was creamy load leaking from his skeleton king and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. He pinched off a giant hardened fudge nugget on my breasticles just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. After having my sperm socket fucked, he then proceeded to fuck my turd cutter. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his skin flute soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to gobble the love mayonnaise from his throbbing quim dagger. The raiding makes me splurge my flange custard all over his cunt stretcher. With my hairy goblet now much like the Japanese flag, he thought it was time to start probing my Oxo orifice. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? By now, my shamevelope was haemorrhaging like a hungry pig at a trough. My chamber of squelch was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my pink velvet sausage wallet got me spritzing spaff faster than snot off a whip. I awoke the next morning with my hot pocket still frothing. I thought it was over but his thrill drill had other ideas. It was bliss having his veiny quim prod rammed inside me again; stuffing my fuck trench with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my ladytown pouring like it used to. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his love muscle made my tuna tunnel tears haemorrhage like a slug in
a salt mine. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat dripping from my rusty sherif's badge and all over my furburger. My cake hole was so full of thrill drill and man fat, the love mayonnaise was leaching down my chin and onto my cans. The unrelenting orgasms from his cunt stretcher thrusting my frilling pink golf bag made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. The feeling of his cock custard flowing down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than snot off a whip. When he removed his cunt plunger from my rusty bullet hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the butt nugget off his womb raider. Some girls are happy just to play the clitar when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my quim and a squash up my mud flap. The slamming of my chocolate starfish was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining his cunt stretcher deep in my Mavis Fritter. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like an over inflated dinghy, and I was no different! The mixture of colon cobra and Da Vinci load in my brown eye created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of.
