The Dream's Thorn

by Amy Woods

  The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his veiny quim prod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a manatee in yoga pants, he thought it was time to start sliding my fart valve. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? The mixture of sewer trout and Da Vinci load in my other vagina created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. There was Da Vinci load dripping from his ample cock and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. The hammering of my puckered brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights joining his stilton spear deep in my brown eye. The feeling of his creamy load leaking down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my one slice toaster and a barbie doll up my marmite motorway. My clam-flavoured pothole was trembling like a rat on acid. I awoke the next morning with my fuck trench still dripping. I thought it was over but his skin flute had other ideas. Inserting a gerbil into my sperm socket got me surging tuna tunnel tears faster than snot off a whip. If I don't buff the muff to get my flange custard frothing from my moose knuckle, his cunt plunger is going to leave my piss flaps resembling an over inflated dinghy. He copped a giant toilet twinkie on my mosquito bites just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. It was bliss having his mutton dagger rammed inside me again; stuffing my hot pocket with a gerbil just didn't get my front bum gushing like it used to. After having my clam-flavoured pothole fucked, he then proceeded to plow my poop chute. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like a bulldog licking piss from a thistle, and I was no different! Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his vein cane made my pussy batter foam like a rabid dog. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cervix cigar rammed deeper into my turd-herder. The fucking makes me eject my minge mucus all over his one-eyed milkman. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax weeping from my brown mile and all over my hairy goblet. With his stilton spear thrusting deep into my fuck gutter, the sensation of his stilton spear smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. My throat was so full of one-eyed monster and steamin' semen, the baby gravy was draining down my chin and onto my love bubbles. By now, my wizards sleeve was weeping like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. The unrelenting orgasms from his cunt plunger fucking my split peach made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. I can't wait to consume the love mayonnaise from his giggle stick. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week.

  The feeling of his magician's wax weeping down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. When he removed his master of ceremonies from my Mavis Fritter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the butt nugget off his love lollipop. The unrelenting orgasms from his skeleton king fucking my cod canyon made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. With his tenderloin truncheon plowing deep into my pink velvet sausage wallet, the sensation of his clunger smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding trickling from my ring piece and all over my fishy flaps. With my piss flaps now much like a hippo's yawn, he thought it was time to start ramming my ring piece. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a toilet twinkie, I wondered? It was bliss having his huge penis shoved inside me again; stuffing my carp cavity with an egg timer just didn't get my depravity cavity spouting like it used to. My quim was trembling like jelly. Inserting a barbie doll into my carp cavity got me surging fallopian fish stock faster than a greased weasel shit. If I don't fish for pearls to get my clunge gunge dripping from my oyster ditch, his tenderloin truncheon is going to leave my flappy meal resembling a gutted trout. After having my gaping clam cavern pounded, he then proceeded to fuck my tradesman's entrance. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and steamin' semen in my turd cutter created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. He cut a giant hardened fudge nugget on my twin peaks just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Some girls are happy just to play the clitar when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my municipal cockwash and a lightbulb up my turd cutter. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. By now, my whispering eye was leaching like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. The pounding makes me eject my shrimp sap all over his spunk-filled spam rocket. There was baby gravy oozing from his chubstep and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. The hammering of my puckered brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his love muscle deep in my rusty bullet hole. My cake hole was so full of bugger king and love piss, the steamin' semen was flowing down my chin and onto my cans. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his love lollipop made my beige slime drain like a George Foreman grill. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his long-dong silver probed deeper into my poop chute. I awoke the next morning with my pink velvet sausage wallet still flowing. I thought it was over but his love lollipop had other ideas. I can't wait to devour the love piss from his cunt stretcher. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his one-eyed milkman soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.

  There was love piss draining from his cream reaper and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. My throat was so full of greasy kebab skewer and magician's wax, the creamy load was foaming down my chin and onto my superdroopers. By now, my ground zero grotto was weeping like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his Nelson's Column soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. After having my furry cup pounded, he then proceeded to plow my mud flap. He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. My soft-shelled tuna taco was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. If I don't buff the muff to get my sex wee flowing from my tuna canal, his devil's bagpipe is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling a darts team's goalkeeper. It was bliss having his turgid terror truncheon rammed inside me again; stuffing my clunge pool with an antique doorknob just didn't get my municipal cockwash squirting like it used to. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his spunk-filled spam rocket made my clunge gunge drain like a slavering dog. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and love mayonnaise in my chocolate starfish created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. When he removed his cumtree from my poo pipe, 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 cream reaper. The feeling of his magician's wax draining down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his meaty member probed deeper into my turd cutter. Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my shamevelope and a squash up my fudge factory. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard frothing from my black hole and all over my velcro triangle. The raiding of my tradesman's entrance was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his pink tractor beam deep in my rusty bullet hole. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my frilling pink golf bag got me flowing tuna tunnel tears faster than snot off a whip. The slamming makes me splurge my spaff all over his womb raider. I awoke the next morning with my clearing in the woods still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his washington monument had other ideas. With my hair
y goblet now much like a bulldog licking piss from a thistle, he thought it was time to start probing my cocoa channel. Is now the time to tell him I really need to blast a colon cobra, I wondered? With his greasy kebab skewer pounding deep into my cum dumpster, the sensation of his jebend smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like the Japanese flag, and I was no different! He cut a giant butt nugget on my sweater puppies just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The unrelenting orgasms from his thrill drill plowing my wunder down under made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun.

  The fucking of my soft tight anus was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his stilton spear deep in my mud flap. The mixture of stink pickle and steamin' semen in my fart valve created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his sperminator slid deeper into my soft tight anus. By now, my vaginal bacon buffet was leaching like a broken fridge freezer. The feeling of his gentleman's relish dripping down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like a darts team's goalkeeper, and I was no different! Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load sliming from my Mavis Fritter and all over my velcro triangle. My chamber of squelch was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his huge penis made my minge monsoon slime like a broken fridge freezer. He launched a giant toilet twinkie on my breasticles just so he could consume it up like a pig at a trough. The unrelenting orgasms from his wrist-thick wand plowing my hatchet wound made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. Inserting a barbie doll into my stench trench got me splurging pussy batter faster than snot off a whip. I can't wait to gobble the man fat from his meaty member. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his slut slayer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I awoke the next morning with my ground zero grotto still frothing. I thought it was over but his tallywacker had other ideas. With my fishy flaps now much like the south end of a badger going north, he thought it was time to start ramming my tradesman's entrance. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? If I don't flick the bean to get my fallopian fish stock leaking from my cod cave, his bugger king is going to leave my purple cabbage resembling the Japanese flag. There was man fat slobbering from his Nelson's Column and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. With his spam javelin slamming deep into my carp cavity, the sensation of his purple beaver buster smashing my cervix made me quake like a rat on acid. My throat was so full of all-beef thermometer and ectoplasm, the love piss was dripping 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 barbie doll in my cum dumpster and a 9-iron up my other vagina. The plowing makes me squirt my fallopian fish stock all over his spam dagger. He munched on my lunchmeat, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. When he removed his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus from my soft tight anus, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the Mr. Hanky off his ramrod. It was bliss having his cunt stretcher plunged inside me again; stuffing my hot pocket with an antique doorknob just didn't get my gammon alley flowing like it used to.

  It was bliss having his timed slimer plunged inside me again; stuffing my split peach with an antique doorknob just didn't get my tampon tunnel gushing like it used to. The unrelenting orgasms from his thrill drill fucking my tuna canal made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. He launched a giant sewer trout on my chest puppies just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The thrusting makes me spit my vertical moisture all over his chorizo howitzer. He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load flowing from my rusty sherif's badge and all over my spam castanets. The hammering of my soft tight anus was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his disco stick deep in my ring piece. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his jade rod stuffed deeper into my rusty bullet hole. There was ectoplasm leaking from his one-eyed milkman and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. With my flappy meal now much like a stuntman's knee, he thought it was time to start probing my other vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a toilet twinkie, I wondered? I can't wait to devour the cock custard from his one-eyed milkman. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his skin flute soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and penis pudding in my turd cutter created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. I awoke the next morning with my vibration station still draining. I thought it was over but his slut slayer had other ideas. When he removed his battering ram from my cocoa channel, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the sewer trout off his bugger king. Inserting an antique doorknob into my slime hole got me flooding fallopian fish stock faster than snot off a whip. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my hot pocket and an egg timer up my puckered brown eye. With his greasy slimelight hammering deep into my clunge pool, the sensation of his balony pony smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. My cake hole was so full of thrill drill and steamin' semen, the Da Vinci load was seeping down my chin and onto my boobage. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like John Wayne's saddlebags, and I was no different! My fuck trench was trembling like a rat on acid. The feeling of his love piss slobbering down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. If I don't dial the rotary phone to get my vertical moisture trickling from my Quimcy, M.E., his stilton sword is going to leave my vertical smile resembling a ripped out fireplace. After having my gashtray pounded, he then proceeded to slam my vintage golf bag. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his slut slayer made my minge monsoon leach like a leaky tap.

  It was bliss having his long-dong silver plunged inside me again; stuffing my birth cannon with an antique doorknob just didn't get my shame portal spraying like it used to. I can't wait to consume the creamy load from his wensleydale wand. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load leaking from my turd cutter and all over my vertical smile. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and gentleman's relish in my tradesman's entrance created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. If I don't fish for pearls to get my minge mucus weeping from my ground zero grotto, his kebeb skewer is going to leave my flappy meal resembling a werewolf with it's throat cut. The unrelenting orgasms from his timed slimer thrusting my cod canyon made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my cod cave and a lightbulb up my tradesman's entrance. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like a blind cobbler's thumb, and I was no different! Inserting a lightbulb into my whispering eye got me flowing beige slime faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his batter blaster made my fallopian fish stock seep like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my split peach was sliming like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. The thrusting of my cocoa channel
was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his bald avenger deep in my marmite motorway. The pounding makes me gush my shrimp sap all over his wensleydale wand. My south mouth was trembling like jelly. I awoke the next morning with my split peach still foaming. I thought it was over but his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus had other ideas. There was man fat slobbering from his turgid terror truncheon and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. With his timed slimer plowing deep into my gashtray, the sensation of his womb raider smashing my cervix made me quake like a shitting dog. My mouth was so full of chubstep and baby gravy, the magician's wax was weeping down my chin and onto my chest puppies. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus slid deeper into my poo pipe. When he removed his clunger from my old dirt road, 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 piss pipe. The feeling of his gentleman's relish leaching down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He curled a giant hardened fudge nugget on my tatas just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. After having my calamari cockring pounded, he then proceeded to plow my rusty bullet hole.