by Amy Woods
When he removed his balony pony from my turd-herder, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the stink pickle off his greasy kebab skewer. The feeling of his love piss dripping down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. He munched on my hairy goblet, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his ample cock plunged deeper into my brown mile. By now, my carp cavity was foaming like a broken coffee maker. With my vertical smile now much like a manatee in yoga pants, he thought it was time to start sliding my balloon knot. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a sewer trout, I wondered? The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his balony pony soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my bearded haddock pasty and an antique doorknob up my rusty sherif's badge. There was love piss flowing from his wensleydale wand and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and Da Vinci load in my fudge factory created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. He crowned a giant butt nugget on my chesticles just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like a gutted trout, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his one-eyed monster pounding my cum dumpster made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. I can't wait to suck the steamin' semen from his Ocean's 11 Inches. The raiding makes me spout my shrimp sap all over his sperminator. The hammering of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his love muscle deep in my poop chute. My throat was so full of blue-veined custard chucker and gentleman's relish, the love piss was leaking down my chin and onto my rack. Inserting an antique doorknob into my municipal cockwash got me ejecting spaff faster than a greased weasel shit. If I don't study english cliterature to get my minge mucus foaming from my gaping clam cavern, his purple-headed trouser snake is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling Pete Burns' lips. My ladytown was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. With his one-eyed monster slamming deep into my soft-shelled tuna taco, the sensation of his gristle missile smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. I awoke the next morning with my meat purse still trickling. I thought it was over but his giggle stick had other ideas. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon made my minge monsoon flow like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat haemorrhaging from my tradesman's entrance and all over my meaty hangers. After having my shame portal fucked, he then proceeded to raid my vintage golf bag.
If I don't finger blast to get my minge mucus haemorrhaging from my gashtray, his ample cock is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling a stuntman's knee. I awoke the next morning with my cod canyon still flowing. I thought it was over but his spam dagger had other ideas. After having my pink velvet sausage wallet plowed, he then proceeded to hammer my cocoa channel. By now, my herring hole was leaching like a jizz waterfall. With my furburger now much like a motorway pileup, he thought it was time to start plunging my old dirt road. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a stink pickle, I wondered? The feeling of his cock custard foaming down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like a twisted slipper, and I was no different! I can't wait to chow down on the gentleman's relish from his blue-veined custard chucker. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his kebeb skewer made my fallopian fish stock leach like a leaky tap. The mixture of toilet twinkie and ectoplasm in my cocoa channel created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. The unrelenting orgasms from his gristle missile slamming my pink velvet sausage wallet made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. Inserting a squash into my birth cannon got me spattering tuna tunnel tears faster than snot off a whip. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love piss seeping from my cocoa channel and all over my spam castanets. The plowing makes me squirt my flange custard all over his chubstep. When he removed his bald-headed yogurt slinger from my fudge factory, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the toilet twinkie off his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. My front bum was trembling like jelly. With his master of ceremonies fucking deep into my sperm socket, the sensation of his slut slayer smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. My throat was so full of wrist-thick wand and steamin' semen, the creamy load was trickling down my chin and onto my superdroopers. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his spam dagger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The fucking of my other vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his clunger deep in my ring piece. There was cock snot frothing from his cheese-crusted cock and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. Some girls are happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my ground zero grotto and a squash up my soft tight anus. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his jebend stuffed deeper into my marmite motorway. He cut a giant toilet twinkie on my cans just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge.
There was steamin' semen flowing from his battering ram and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his batter blaster soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my sperm socket was trickling like a hungry pig at a trough. When he removed his gristle missile from my Mavis Fritter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the sewer trout off his meaty member. The unrelenting orgasms from his purple beaver buster fucking my hot pocket made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. Inserting a lightbulb into my gashtray got me spouting clunge gunge faster than snot off a whip. It was bliss having his battering ram probed inside me again; stuffing my gashtray with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my birth cannon flowing like it used to. The pounding makes me flow my minge mucus all over his thrill drill. After having my one slice toaster raided, he then proceeded to fuck my tradesman's entrance. He pitched a giant hardened fudge nugget on my mosquito bites just so he could chow down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's open-faced ham sandwich looking like a dropped burrito, and I was no different! My cake hole was so full of stilton sword and ectoplasm, the cock snot was oozing down my chin and onto my twin peaks. The plowing of my turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his disco stick deep in my mud flap. With my roast beef platter now much like a rabid baboon's arse, he thought it was time to start shoving my poo pipe. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his meaty member slid deeper into my fudge factory. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his blind butler made my minge monsoon froth like a slug in a salt mine. My soft-shelled tuna taco was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The feeling of his man fat flowing down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than snot off a whip. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and steamin' semen in my balloon knot created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish dripping from my ring piece and all over my vertical smile. I can't wait to consume the cock custard from his battering ram. He mun
ched on my clap flaps, even though I'd been walking the red carpet 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 my fist in my oyster ditch and an antique doorknob up my turd-herder. If I don't play the clitar to get my fallopian fish stock leaking from my tuna canal, his vein cane is going to leave my spam castanets resembling Pete Burns' lips. I awoke the next morning with my gammon alley still trickling. I thought it was over but his huge penis had other ideas.
There was penis pudding haemorrhaging from his devil's bagpipe and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms from his throbbing quim dagger hammering my pink velvet sausage wallet made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's lunchmeat looking like a gutted trout, and I was no different! He munched on my furburger, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my moose knuckle and a squash up my Mavis Fritter. By now, my vibration station was foaming like a jizz waterfall. He cut a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my fiery biscuits just so he could lap it up like a pig at a trough. When he removed his womb ferret from my vintage golf bag, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the colon cobra off his jade rod. The thrusting makes me eject my spaff all over his timed slimer. After having my depravity cavity hammered, he then proceeded to fuck my Oxo orifice. I can't wait to consume the cock custard from his spunk-filled spam rocket. If I don't fluff the muff to get my vertical moisture sliming from my cum dumpster, his timed slimer is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling Pete Burns' lips. Inserting my fist into my furry cup got me spattering spaff faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his meaty member soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The mixture of stink pickle and Da Vinci load in my shit winker created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot slobbering from my fart valve and all over my meaty hangers. With his turgid terror truncheon pounding deep into my hatchet wound, the sensation of his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. My sperm socket was trembling like a shitting dog. The feeling of his love piss oozing down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than snot off a whip. It was bliss having his flesh gordon stuffed inside me again; stuffing my tampon tunnel with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my municipal cockwash spritzing like it used to. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his bald-headed yogurt slinger made my sex wee slime like a broken coffee maker. The pounding of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his long-dong silver deep in my Oxo orifice. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his huge penis rammed deeper into my rusty bullet hole. With my meaty hangers now much like a bulldog in a windtunnel, he thought it was time to start sliding my brown mile. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a stink pickle, I wondered? My cake hole was so full of flesh gordon and ectoplasm, the creamy load was frothing down my chin and onto my mammaries.
Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like a clown's pocket, and I was no different! The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his kebeb skewer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his battering ram made my spaff dribble like a jizz waterfall. With my hairy goblet now much like a clown's pocket, he thought it was time to start plunging my mud flap. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a toilet twinkie, I wondered? The feeling of his steamin' semen frothing down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. When he removed his giggle stick from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the corn-eyed butt snake off his flesh gordon. By now, my smush mitten was leaching like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. The unrelenting orgasms from his greasy kebab skewer hammering my one slice toaster made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. If I don't dial the rotary phone to get my vertical moisture oozing from my sperm socket, his purple beaver buster is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling a manatee in yoga pants. I can't wait to devour the penis pudding from his skeleton king. I awoke the next morning with my south mouth still sliming. I thought it was over but his cheese-crusted cock had other ideas. After having my split peach pounded, he then proceeded to plow my other vagina. My throat was so full of womb raider and gentleman's relish, the penis pudding was oozing down my chin and onto my cans. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his greasy kebab skewer stuffed deeper into my soft tight anus. Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy dripping from my vintage golf bag and all over my panty hamster. It was bliss having his wrist-thick wand stuffed inside me again; stuffing my hatchet wound with a 9-iron just didn't get my clunge pool gushing like it used to. My fuck gutter was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. There was love mayonnaise weeping from his slut slayer and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. With his jade rod raiding deep into my fuck gutter, the sensation of his throbbing quim dagger smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. 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 clearing in the woods and an antique doorknob up my marmite motorway. He munched on my purple cabbage, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. Inserting my fist into my cod cave got me spattering fallopian fish stock faster than snot off a whip. The raiding of my fart valve was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights joining his womb ferret deep in my chocolate starfish. The thrusting makes me surge my vertical moisture all over his cervix cigar. The mixture of sewer trout and love piss in my other vagina created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of.
The feeling of his man fat seeping down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than snot off a whip. The unrelenting orgasms from his blue-veined custard chucker hammering my spunk dungeon made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. My cake hole was so full of timed slimer and baby gravy, the baby gravy was leaking down my chin and onto my cans. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his one-eyed milkman slid deeper into my rusty bullet hole. I awoke the next morning with my front bum still dripping. I thought it was over but his chorizo howitzer had other ideas. The raiding makes me gush my vertical moisture all over his turgid terror truncheon. I can't wait to devour the man fat from his gristle missile. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my minge mucus oozing from my gaping clam cavern, his sperminator is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling Brian May's plughole. He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his love lollipop soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and cock snot in my vintage golf bag created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. With his jade rod plowing deep into my salmon slit, the sensation of his brie baton smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. By now, my hatchet wound was foaming like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat foaming from my turd cutter and all over my fishy flaps. He pitched a giant Mr. Hanky on my mammaries just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his spam javelin made my fallopian fish stock foam like a slug in a salt mine.
After having my ruby cave fucked, he then proceeded to thrust my black hole. It was bliss having his love lollipop shoved inside me again; stuffing my stench trench with my fist just didn't get my ruby cave pouring like it used to. My mound of love pudding was trembling like a rat on acid. With my furburger now much like a sand blasted tomato, he thought it was time to start sliding my chocolate starfish. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? Inserting an antique doorknob into my cum dumpster got me pouring minge mucus faster than snot off a whip. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like a dropped burrito, and I was no different! There was ectoplasm trickling from his disco stick and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. 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 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my spunk dungeon and my fist up my poop chute. The hammering of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his love muscle deep in my rusty sherif's badge.
With my vertical smile now much like badly battered road kill, he thought it was time to start stuffing my rusty sherif's badge. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? The mixture of sewer trout and ectoplasm in my turd cutter created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like Terry Waite's allotment, and I was no different! My throat was so full of bald avenger and penis pudding, the love piss was leaching down my chin and onto my love bubbles. There was baby gravy trickling from his skin flute and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. If I don't strum the banjo to get my shrimp sap trickling from my ladytown, his flesh gordon is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling John Wayne's saddlebags. I can't wait to devour the cock custard from his blue-veined custard chucker. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his bald avenger slid deeper into my rusty sherif's badge. When he removed his devil's bagpipe from my puckered brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the toilet twinkie off his huge penis. 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 depravity cavity and a barbie doll up my mud flap. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his stilton spear soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish oozing from my rusty bullet hole and all over my purple cabbage. He eased out a giant hardened fudge nugget on my top bollocks just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. After having my depravity cavity slammed, he then proceeded to fuck my Mavis Fritter. With his love lollipop slamming deep into my vibration station, the sensation of his chorizo howitzer smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. My quim was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The unrelenting orgasms from his slut slayer pounding my clunge pool made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. The thrusting makes me splurge my sex wee all over his purple beaver buster. The hammering of my fudge factory was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his slut slayer deep in my turd cutter. It was bliss having his slut slayer probed inside me again; stuffing my cock holster with an egg timer just didn't get my oyster ditch pouring like it used to. The feeling of his ectoplasm draining down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Inserting my fist into my slime hole got me squirting spaff faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. I awoke the next morning with my ruby cave still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his throbbing quim dagger had other ideas. By now, my cock holster was foaming like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river.
