by Amy Woods
He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like a clown's pocket, and I was no different! With my clap flaps now much like a motorway pileup, he thought it was time to start plunging my Oxo orifice. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a colon cobra, I wondered? When he removed his love lollipop from my other vagina, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the butt nugget off his muffbuster. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his all-beef thermometer made my beige slime ooze like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. The plowing makes me squirt my sex wee all over his mutton dagger. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat slobbering from my puckered brown eye and all over my clap flaps. The unrelenting orgasms from his skeleton king fucking my chlamydia canal made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. I can't wait to lap the baby gravy from his bugger king. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my smush mitten got me surging minge monsoon faster than a greased weasel shit. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my beige slime foaming from my whispering eye, his balony pony is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling Terry Waite's allotment. It was bliss having his cheese-crusted cock plunged inside me again; stuffing my cod canyon with a lightbulb just didn't get my herring hole ejecting like it used to. My hatchet wound was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. I awoke the next morning with my mound of love pudding still trickling. I thought it was over but his tenderloin truncheon had other ideas. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his one-eyed monster soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The pounding of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his womb ferret deep in my soft tight anus. After having my frilling pink golf bag plowed, he then proceeded to pound my soft tight anus. By now, my gashtray was trickling like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. 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 moose knuckle and a lightbulb up my poop chute. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and magician's wax in my ring piece created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. There was penis pudding frothing from his cunt stretcher and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his disco stick slid deeper into my fudge factory. He rolled a giant toilet twinkie on my cans just so he could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The feeling of his steamin' semen dribbling down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. With his Ocean's 11 Inches hammering deep into my pink velvet sausage wallet, the sensation of his cumtree smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator.
It was bliss having his cunt stretcher shoved inside me again; stuffing my clunge pool with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my bearded haddock pasty spraying like it used to. By now, my wizards sleeve was weeping like a slavering dog. The unrelenting orgasms from his purple beaver buster hammering my clam-flavoured pothole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. With his veiny quim prod hammering deep into my mound of love pudding, the sensation of his spam dagger smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus made my flange custard froth like a rabid dog. The plowing of my turd cutter was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his flesh gordon deep in my poo pipe. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish slobbering from my Oxo orifice and all over my roast beef platter. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and love piss in my fart valve created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. He extruded a giant footlong fudge bullet on my love bubbles just so he could gobble it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The feeling of his creamy load dripping down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his bugger king shoved deeper into my marmite motorway. I awoke the next morning with my chamber of squelch still seeping. I thought it was over but his devil's bagpipe had other ideas. My mouth was so full of cumtree and gentleman's relish, the Da Vinci load was oozing down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his battering ram soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My meat purse was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. With my panty hamster now much like that bathroom door in The Shining, he thought it was time to start shoving my other vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my tuna tunnel tears haemorrhaging from my spunk dungeon, his meaty member is going to leave my panty hamster resembling a stuntman's knee. There was magician's wax haemorrhaging from his clunger and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like a motorway pileup, and I was no different! Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my herring hole and a squash up my fudge factory. I can't wait to gobble the love piss from his ample cock. The hammering makes me spout my minge mucus all over his one-eyed monster. When he removed his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon from my puckered brown eye, 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 womb raider. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my cod cave got me gushing clunge gunge faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel.
The thrusting of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his Ocean's 11 Inches deep in my brown eye. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my ruby cave and a 9-iron up my brown mile. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his timed slimer slid deeper into my brown mile. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his thrill drill soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My cake hole was so full of all-beef thermometer and penis pudding, the love piss was foaming down my chin and onto my top bollocks. Inserting a barbie doll into my bearded haddock pasty got me spraying flange custard faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. By now, my front bum was seeping like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. He munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. It was bliss having his disco stick stuffed inside me again; stuffing my municipal cockwash with a lightbulb just didn't get my moose knuckle spritzing like it used to. When he removed his ample cock from my poop chute, 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 greasy slimelight. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my flange custard foaming from my oyster ditch, his all-beef thermometer is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a dropped burrito. The plowing makes me squirt my sex wee all over his battering ram. The mixture of colon cobra and steamin' semen in my poo pipe created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his purple beaver buster made my minge monsoon drain like a broken coffee maker. My soft-shelled tuna taco was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. There was ectoplasm sliming from his sperminator and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. He pinched off a giant Mr. Hanky on my boobage just so he could consume it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The feeling of his creamy load frothing down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than snot off a whip. With my
velcro triangle now much like Brian May's plughole, he thought it was time to start stuffing my old dirt road. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a colon cobra, I wondered? I can't wait to consume the cock snot from his muffbuster. With his cervix cigar slamming deep into my vibration station, the sensation of his pink tractor beam smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm weeping from my old dirt road and all over my meaty hangers. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like Pete Burns' lips, and I was no different! After having my slime hole hammered, he then proceeded to plow my cocoa channel. I awoke the next morning with my one slice toaster still trickling. I thought it was over but his thrill drill had other ideas.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen seeping from my brown mile and all over my roast beef platter. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's flappy meal looking like the south end of a badger going north, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his Nelson's Column slamming my oyster ditch made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. The feeling of his steamin' semen dripping down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Inserting an egg timer into my cum dumpster got me splurging shrimp sap faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my salmon slit and my fist up my chocolate starfish. It was bliss having his tallywacker slid inside me again; stuffing my enchilada of love with a gerbil just didn't get my clearing in the woods squirting like it used to. When he removed his muffbuster from my other vagina, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the corn-eyed butt snake off his purple-headed trouser snake. He munched on my hairy goblet, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. The fucking makes me spit my beige slime all over his all-beef thermometer. The raiding of my fart valve was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his kebeb skewer deep in my poo pipe. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his mutton dagger stuffed deeper into my brown mile. My hot pocket was trembling like a rat on acid. There was ectoplasm weeping from his timed slimer and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his Ocean's 11 Inches soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his skin flute slamming deep into my whispering eye, the sensation of his blind butler smashing my cervix made me quake like a tasered slab of chopped liver. With my fishy flaps now much like Brian May's plughole, he thought it was time to start plunging my rusty sherif's badge. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a butt nugget, I wondered? I can't wait to suck the steamin' semen from his tenderloin truncheon. If I don't finger blast to get my fallopian fish stock frothing from my Quimcy, M.E., his muffbuster is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling the Japanese flag. I awoke the next morning with my mound of love pudding still trickling. I thought it was over but his one-eyed milkman had other ideas. My throat was so full of bugger king and Da Vinci load, the love mayonnaise was frothing down my chin and onto my droopies. He crowned a giant footlong fudge bullet on my boobage just so he could consume it up like a hungry hungry hippo. By now, my meat purse was foaming like a broken coffee maker. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and love mayonnaise in my turd cutter created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. After having my depravity cavity fucked, he then proceeded to raid my balloon knot.
The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and love piss in my shit winker created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The hammering of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his cumtree deep in my other vagina. He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his chubstep soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his veiny quim prod pounding deep into my soft-shelled tuna taco, the sensation of his meaty member smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. There was cock custard seeping from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. The fucking makes me gush my flange custard all over his ample cock. I can't wait to chow down on the creamy load from his one-eyed monster. The unrelenting orgasms from his thrill drill raiding my chamber of squelch made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. If I don't dial the rotary phone to get my minge mucus leaching from my oyster ditch, his purple beaver buster is going to leave my vertical garden resembling a bulldog in a windtunnel. It was bliss having his spunk-filled spam rocket slid inside me again; stuffing my ruby cave with a squash just didn't get my pink velvet sausage wallet spraying like it used to. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his piss pipe made my shrimp sap froth like a George Foreman grill. After having my frilling pink golf bag fucked, he then proceeded to hammer my other vagina. With my fishy flaps now much like a twisted slipper, he thought it was time to start probing my rusty sherif's badge. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy haemorrhaging from my puckered brown eye and all over my clap flaps. The feeling of his man fat sliming down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than snot off a whip. He cut a giant footlong fudge bullet on my mosquito bites just so he could consume it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his flesh gordon rammed deeper into my shit winker. My depravity cavity was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. By now, my tampon tunnel was haemorrhaging like a hungry pig at a trough. My throat was so full of throbbing quim dagger and man fat, the cock custard was slobbering down my chin and onto my twin peaks. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like an over inflated dinghy, and I was no different! Inserting a barbie doll into my tampon tunnel got me spraying spaff faster than snot off a whip. When he removed his vein cane from my poo pipe, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the toilet twinkie off his devil's bagpipe. I awoke the next morning with my cod crater still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his wrist-thick wand had other ideas.
He pinched off a giant colon cobra on my mosquito bites just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo. My cake hole was so full of eight inches of throbbing pink jesus and Da Vinci load, the cock custard was trickling down my chin and onto my chesticles. With his kebeb skewer thrusting deep into my vibrator crater, the sensation of his bugger king smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. If I don't dial the rotary phone to get my pussy batter slobbering from my hatchet wound, his timed slimer is going to leave my furburger resembling Terry Waite's allotment. The thrusting makes me squirt my minge monsoon all over his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. When he removed his clunger from my rusty sherif's badge, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the toilet twinkie off his stilton sword. I awoke the next morning with my clam-flavoured pothole still leaking. I thought it was over but his muffbuster had other ideas. The hammering of my fudge factory was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his batter blaster deep in my poop chute. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like a bulldog licking piss from a thistle, and I was no different! The feeling of his baby gravy frothing down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than snot off a whip. By now, my shamevelope was oozing like a jizz waterfall. The mixture of toilet twinkie and magician's wax in my poo pipe created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. It was bliss having his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus probed inside me again; stuffing my sperm socket wit
h a squash just didn't get my mound of love pudding spattering like it used to. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my cod canyon and a 15" spiked vibrator up my puckered brown eye. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot dribbling from my marmite motorway and all over my spam castanets. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his greasy slimelight made my beige slime flow like a leaky tap. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his battering ram rammed deeper into my fudge factory. The unrelenting orgasms from his meaty member pounding my municipal cockwash made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his muffbuster soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to gobble the baby gravy from his muffbuster. After having my gashtray raided, he then proceeded to hammer my poop chute. There was ectoplasm leaching from his flesh gordon and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. Inserting an antique doorknob into my cum dumpster got me ejecting minge monsoon faster than a greased weasel shit. My frilling pink golf bag was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week.
