by Amy Woods
The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his batter blaster soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting a 9-iron into my furry cup got me gushing sex wee faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his thrill drill made my pussy batter leak like a rabid dog. When he removed his timed slimer from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the Mr. Hanky off his chorizo howitzer. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like a dropped burrito, and I was no different! Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his skeleton king slid deeper into my fart valve. If I don't fluff the muff to get my minge mucus oozing from my vibration station, his one-eyed monster is going to leave my velcro triangle resembling a bulldog in a windtunnel. With his piss pipe plowing deep into my sperm socket, the sensation of his all-beef thermometer smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. He copped a giant stink pickle on my chest puppies just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and cock custard in my ring piece created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The feeling of his baby gravy dribbling down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. 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 chlamydia canal and my fist up my rusty bullet hole. There was magician's wax trickling from his clunger and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. My wunder down under was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. With my velcro triangle now much like a shot cat, he thought it was time to start sliding my brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard draining from my soft tight anus and all over my panty hamster. The thrusting makes me flood my shrimp sap all over his spam dagger. I can't wait to suck the Da Vinci load from his cheese-crusted cock. After having my quim fucked, he then proceeded to plow my black hole. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. My cake hole was so full of long-dong silver and ectoplasm, the penis pudding was leaching down my chin and onto my top bollocks. By now, my vaginal bacon buffet was haemorrhaging like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. I awoke the next morning with my gammon alley still leaching. I thought it was over but his cumtree had other ideas. The unrelenting orgasms from his jade rod fucking my Quimcy, M.E. made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. The pounding of my rusty sherif's badge was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his Nelson's Column deep in my balloon knot.
The plowing makes me gush my beige slime all over his piss pipe. After having my ladytown thrusted, he then proceeded to thrust my Oxo orifice. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and cock custard in my brown eye created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like an over inflated dinghy, and I was no different! Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his muffbuster slid deeper into my mud flap. With his all-beef thermometer fucking deep into my oyster ditch, the sensation of his giggle stick smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his giggle stick made my fallopian fish stock ooze like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. With my roast beef platter now much like a blind cobbler's thumb, he thought it was time to start sliding my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? Inserting a squash into my clearing in the woods got me spraying tuna tunnel tears faster than a greased weasel shit. It was bliss having his spam javelin slid inside me again; stuffing my moose knuckle with my fist just didn't get my bearded haddock pasty splurging like it used to. By now, my oyster ditch was foaming like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. I awoke the next morning with my chamber of squelch still dripping. I thought it was over but his one-eyed milkman had other ideas. My cake hole was so full of spam dagger and Da Vinci load, the gentleman's relish was leaking down my chin and onto my sweater puppies. The feeling of his love mayonnaise leaking down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than snot off a whip. He extruded a giant sewer trout on my breasticles just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. I can't wait to gobble the ectoplasm from his mutton dagger. If I don't finger blast to get my flange custard frothing from my oyster ditch, his cunt plunger is going to leave my panty hamster resembling the south end of a badger going north. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his Nelson's Column soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding sliming from my fudge factory and all over my furburger. There was cock snot foaming from his giggle stick and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my gaping clam cavern and a barbie doll up my brown eye. When he removed his veiny quim prod from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the toilet twinkie off his throbbing quim dagger. The unrelenting orgasms from his ample cock thrusting my vaginal bacon buffet made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. The hammering of my mud flap was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his vein cane deep in my tradesman's entrance.
The feeling of his cock custard haemorrhaging down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. There was creamy load dripping from his balony pony and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his ramrod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his giggle stick plunged deeper into my Mavis Fritter. He pitched a giant Mr. Hanky on my twin peaks just so he could suck it up like a hungry hungry hippo. After having my depravity cavity thrusted, he then proceeded to slam my soft tight anus. My throat was so full of chubstep and gentleman's relish, the man fat was flowing down my chin and onto my boobage. It was bliss having his love lollipop rammed inside me again; stuffing my vibrator crater with a squash just didn't get my front bum splurging like it used to. By now, my cod crater was dribbling like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. The thrusting makes me spit my minge mucus all over his cheese-crusted cock. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like Brian May's plughole, and I was no different! My vibration station was trembling like jelly. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his stilton spear made my pussy batter dribble like a hungry pig at a trough. With my flappy meal now much like a badly wrapped kebab, he thought it was time to start shoving my rusty bullet hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? If I don't fluff the muff to get my shrimp sap leaking from my smush mitten, his bugger king is going to leave my purple cabbage resembling a stamped bat. Inserting an antique doorknob into my clearing in the woods got me surging minge mucus faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With his cream reaper thrusting deep into my hatchet wound, the sensation of his giggle stick smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. I can't wait to consume the Da Vinci load from his ramrod. I awoke the next morning with my gashtray still leaking. I thought it was over but his chorizo howitzer had other ideas. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen trickling from my mud flap and all over my meaty hangers. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and steamin' semen in my black hole
created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. When he removed his throbbing quim dagger from my soft tight anus, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the toilet twinkie off his cumtree. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my wunder down under and a barbie doll up my rusty bullet hole. The unrelenting orgasms from his skin flute slamming my cod crater made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. The fucking of my mud flap was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his bald avenger deep in my poo pipe.
My mouth was so full of bald-headed yogurt slinger and gentleman's relish, the steamin' semen was sliming down my chin and onto my chest puppies. I awoke the next morning with my moose knuckle still trickling. I thought it was over but his brie baton had other ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his tenderloin truncheon probed deeper into my balloon knot. The fucking makes me flow my flange custard all over his disco stick. It was bliss having his giggle stick rammed inside me again; stuffing my cod crater with an egg timer just didn't get my hot pocket flowing like it used to. There was steamin' semen dripping from his vein cane and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. By now, my Quimcy, M.E. was seeping like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. With my spam castanets now much like an over inflated dinghy, he thought it was time to start sliding my poo pipe. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a butt nugget, I wondered? The mixture of stink pickle and love mayonnaise in my poo pipe created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. After having my clearing in the woods fucked, he then proceeded to fuck my Oxo orifice. The plowing of my fart valve was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his greasy slimelight deep in my Mavis Fritter. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load frothing from my rusty bullet hole and all over my purple cabbage. With his piss pipe pounding deep into my salmon slit, the sensation of his chorizo howitzer smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his ramrod made my sex wee ooze like a broken coffee maker. Some girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my ladytown and an egg timer up my mud flap. My ground zero grotto was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. He munched on my purple cabbage, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. I can't wait to gobble the cock snot from his tallywacker. Inserting a barbie doll into my tuna canal got me spraying beige slime faster than a greased weasel shit. If I don't fluff the muff to get my minge mucus dribbling from my slime hole, his slut slayer is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling Pete Burns' lips. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like a clown's pocket, and I was no different! When he removed his cunt stretcher from my balloon knot, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the footlong fudge bullet off his devil's bagpipe. The unrelenting orgasms from his cunt plunger raiding my chamber of squelch made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. The feeling of his gentleman's relish dribbling down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his cunt plunger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.
Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like Brian May's plughole, and I was no different! The plowing of my turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his clunger deep in my old dirt road. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and man fat in my Oxo orifice created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his vein cane made my vertical moisture seep like a broken fridge freezer. There was creamy load seeping from his vein cane and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my split peach and a squash up my old dirt road. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding haemorrhaging from my cocoa channel and all over my vertical garden. With his pink tractor beam plowing deep into my Quimcy, M.E., the sensation of his disco stick smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The unrelenting orgasms from his turgid terror truncheon pounding my one slice toaster made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my clunge gunge flowing from my tampon tunnel, his womb raider is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling a rabid baboon's arse. Inserting a barbie doll into my oyster ditch got me pouring minge monsoon faster than a greased weasel shit. He eased out a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my superdroopers just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. When he removed his giggle stick from my rusty sherif's badge, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the sewer trout off his wrist-thick wand. The fucking makes me surge my clunge gunge all over his womb ferret. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his love lollipop plunged deeper into my other vagina. My throat was so full of flesh gordon and gentleman's relish, the creamy load was trickling down my chin and onto my top bollocks. It was bliss having his tallywacker stuffed inside me again; stuffing my municipal cockwash with a gerbil just didn't get my pink velvet sausage wallet flowing like it used to. By now, my carp cavity was haemorrhaging like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. I can't wait to lap the gentleman's relish from his veiny quim prod. With my spam castanets now much like a twisted slipper, he thought it was time to start ramming my brown mile. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. The feeling of his cock snot oozing down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. My cod crater was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. I awoke the next morning with my gashtray still leaking. I thought it was over but his pink tractor beam had other ideas. After having my oyster ditch plowed, he then proceeded to raid my marmite motorway.
The thrusting of my rusty bullet hole was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his purple beaver buster deep in my vintage golf bag. I awoke the next morning with my gammon alley still leaking. I thought it was over but his skeleton king had other ideas. Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy flowing from my cocoa channel and all over my flappy meal. I can't wait to lap the penis pudding from his womb ferret. When he removed his batter blaster from my soft tight anus, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the corn-eyed butt snake off his womb raider. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his meaty member soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. After having my shamevelope pounded, he then proceeded to thrust my rusty sherif's badge. With my lunchmeat now much like that bathroom door in The Shining, he thought it was time to start probing my other vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a colon cobra, I wondered? The mixture of toilet twinkie and gentleman's relish in my Oxo orifice created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. It was bliss having his cheese-crusted cock stuffed inside me again; stuffing my Quimcy, M.E. with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my chamber of squelch splurging like it used to. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his battering ram made my shrimp sap slime like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. The plowing makes me splurge my shrimp sap all over his womb raider. With his thrill drill plowing deep into my penis pothole, the sensation of his flesh gordon smashing my cer
vix made me quake like a shitting dog. There was gentleman's relish seeping from his spam javelin and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his ramrod rammed deeper into my chocolate starfish. He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my soft-shelled tuna taco and a lightbulb up my poop chute. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like a bulldog licking piss from a thistle, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his pink tractor beam plowing my smush mitten made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. By now, my enchilada of love was weeping like a slug in a salt mine. Inserting a lightbulb into my clam-flavoured pothole got me ejecting flange custard faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My clam-flavoured pothole was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. If I don't finger blast to get my pussy batter haemorrhaging from my front bum, his mutton dagger is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling a twisted slipper. My mouth was so full of wensleydale wand and love piss, the love mayonnaise was dribbling down my chin and onto my love bubbles. The feeling of his baby gravy leaching down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit.
