by Amy Woods
Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like a ripped out fireplace, and I was no different! Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his meaty member made my shrimp sap drip like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise weeping from my vintage golf bag and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. When he removed his piss pipe from my black hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the toilet twinkie off his stilton sword. By now, my ladytown was weeping like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his tenderloin truncheon shoved deeper into my turd-herder. Inserting a lightbulb into my meat purse got me spritzing clunge gunge faster than snot off a whip. The pounding of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his bald-headed yogurt slinger deep in my Oxo orifice. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his cunt stretcher soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My throat was so full of love lollipop and penis pudding, the steamin' semen was flowing down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my clunge gunge dribbling from my cod crater, his jade rod is going to leave my vertical smile resembling a stamped bat. With my velcro triangle now much like Brian May's plughole, he thought it was time to start ramming my vintage golf bag. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a sewer trout, I wondered? He crowned a giant footlong fudge bullet on my fiery biscuits just so he could consume it up like a pig at a trough. The feeling of his creamy load haemorrhaging down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than snot off a whip. The mixture of stink pickle and cock snot in my soft tight anus created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. After having my vibrator crater plowed, he then proceeded to thrust my tradesman's entrance. There was cock custard dribbling from his disco stick and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms from his jebend plowing my front bum made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. With his kebeb skewer fucking deep into my soft-shelled tuna taco, the sensation of his all-beef thermometer smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. I awoke the next morning with my birth cannon still leaking. I thought it was over but his slut slayer had other ideas. He munched on my purple cabbage, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. The fucking makes me gush my spaff all over his tenderloin truncheon. It was bliss having his Nelson's Column slid inside me again; stuffing my whispering eye with an antique doorknob just didn't get my spunk dungeon ejecting like it used to. I can't wait to lap the Da Vinci load from his washington monument. My soft-shelled tuna taco was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator.
I awoke the next morning with my chlamydia canal still sliming. I thought it was over but his throbbing quim dagger had other ideas. When he removed his meaty member from my brown mile, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the toilet twinkie off his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. If I don't flick the bean to get my tuna tunnel tears weeping from my chamber of squelch, his bald-headed yogurt slinger is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling Pete Burns' lips. By now, my ladytown was draining like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and cock snot in my black hole created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. The unrelenting orgasms from his piss pipe fucking my gammon alley made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. He eased out a giant footlong fudge bullet on my top bollocks just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his slut slayer made my beige slime foam like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot weeping from my brown eye and all over my vertical garden. The raiding makes me eject my minge monsoon all over his master of ceremonies. The feeling of his penis pudding draining down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker 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 squash in my oyster ditch and a squash up my cocoa channel. I can't wait to consume the penis pudding from his one-eyed monster. Inserting an egg timer into my split peach got me splurging clunge gunge faster than snot off a whip. My slime hole was trembling like a rat on acid. It was bliss having his long-dong silver probed inside me again; stuffing my slime hole with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my shame portal ejecting like it used to. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. With his jade rod pounding deep into my mound of love pudding, the sensation of his wrist-thick wand smashing my cervix made me quiver like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. My throat was so full of one-eyed monster and baby gravy, the creamy load was seeping down my chin and onto my twin peaks. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like the south end of a badger going north, and I was no different! After having my hatchet wound fucked, he then proceeded to plow my poo pipe. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his jade rod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my beef curtains now much like Terry Waite's allotment, he thought it was time to start probing my rusty bullet hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? There was steamin' semen frothing from his cumtree and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his spunk-filled spam rocket stuffed deeper into my black hole.
By now, my wizards sleeve was leaking like a broken coffee maker. The unrelenting orgasms from his bald avenger pounding my birth cannon made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. There was steamin' semen frothing from his batter blaster and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his cheese-crusted cock made my pussy batter flow like a hungry pig at a trough. After having my vaginal bacon buffet pounded, he then proceeded to raid my black hole. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like a dropped burrito, and I was no different! Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise slobbering from my old dirt road and all over my spam castanets. Inserting a lightbulb into my hatchet wound got me spattering tuna tunnel tears faster than a greased weasel shit. The feeling of his gentleman's relish trickling down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. If I don't strum the banjo to get my spaff leaching from my herring hole, his greasy slimelight is going to leave my vertical garden resembling a hippo's yawn. 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 herring hole and a lightbulb up my ring piece. The fucking of my black hole was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon deep in my shit winker. The fucking makes me flow my tuna tunnel tears all over his disco stick. He crowned a giant colon cobra on my droopies just so he could gobble it up like a hungry hungry hippo. My gaping clam cavern was trembling like a rat on acid. I awoke the next morning with my south mouth still flowing. I thought it was over but his washington monument had other ideas. It was bliss having his wensleydale wand slid inside me again; stuffing my cock holster with a lightbulb just didn't get my cum dumpster spritzing like it used to. I can't wait to gobble the baby gravy from his skeleton king. With his kebeb skewer thrusting deep into my vibrator crater, the sensation of his wensleydale wand smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. My cake hole was so full of one-eyed monster and baby gravy, the love piss was weeping down my chin and on
to my tatas. With my flappy meal now much like badly battered road kill, he thought it was time to start plunging my other vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to blast a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? The mixture of stink pickle and Da Vinci load in my brown eye created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. When he removed his meaty member from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the butt nugget off his cumtree. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his cream reaper soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.
Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my front bum got me squirting clunge gunge faster than snot off a whip. After having my birth cannon fucked, he then proceeded to pound my poop chute. The pounding of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his clunger deep in my turd-herder. I awoke the next morning with my kipper dinghy still flowing. I thought it was over but his gristle missile had other ideas. It was bliss having his skeleton king shoved inside me again; stuffing my wunder down under with a barbie doll just didn't get my kipper dinghy gushing like it used to. With my roast beef platter now much like John Wayne's saddlebags, he thought it was time to start plunging my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his giggle stick soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to gobble the gentleman's relish from his giggle stick. The raiding makes me gush my sex wee all over his purple beaver buster. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like a twisted slipper, and I was no different! He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his washington monument made my spaff leach like a broken coffee maker. He extruded a giant Mr. Hanky on my love bubbles just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his womb raider probed deeper into my soft tight anus. My mouth was so full of chubstep and gentleman's relish, the love piss was leaching down my chin and onto my tatas. When he removed his spam dagger from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the butt nugget off his pink tractor beam. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love piss seeping from my chocolate starfish and all over my panty hamster. The feeling of his gentleman's relish draining down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my tuna canal and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my brown eye. The unrelenting orgasms from his one-eyed milkman hammering my south mouth made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and baby gravy in my rusty sherif's badge created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. With his bald avenger raiding deep into my clearing in the woods, the sensation of his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. If I don't finger blast to get my clunge gunge frothing from my vibration station, his one-eyed milkman is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling a hippo's yawn. My Quimcy, M.E. was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. There was magician's wax weeping from his devil's bagpipe and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more.
The unrelenting orgasms from his jade rod thrusting my vaginal bacon buffet made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. I awoke the next morning with my soft-shelled tuna taco still foaming. I thought it was over but his Nelson's Column had other ideas. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his bald-headed yogurt slinger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot weeping from my puckered brown eye and all over my clap flaps. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his huge penis probed deeper into my soft tight anus. If I don't buff the muff to get my flange custard seeping from my penis pothole, his cunt stretcher is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling a ripped out fireplace. The pounding makes me gush my fallopian fish stock all over his jebend. When he removed his Nelson's Column from my poop chute, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the colon cobra off his bald avenger. It was bliss having his bald-headed yogurt slinger slid inside me again; stuffing my shame portal with a 9-iron just didn't get my clearing in the woods spattering like it used to. He launched a giant colon cobra on my boobage just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his purple beaver buster made my vertical moisture ooze like a rabid dog. By now, my chamber of squelch was weeping like a broken coffee maker. My ruby cave was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. With my beef curtains now much like a twisted slipper, he thought it was time to start shoving my cocoa channel. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? The fucking of my brown mile was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his chubstep deep in my cocoa channel. The mixture of stink pickle and Da Vinci load in my Oxo orifice created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The feeling of his gentleman's relish oozing down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my cum dumpster and a lightbulb up my rusty bullet hole. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like a sand blasted tomato, and I was no different! He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. After having my front bum raided, he then proceeded to hammer my chocolate starfish. With his meaty member pounding deep into my shamevelope, the sensation of his ramrod smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. I can't wait to devour the creamy load from his clunger. Inserting an antique doorknob into my chlamydia canal got me flowing sex wee faster than a greased weasel shit. My cake hole was so full of slut slayer and steamin' semen, the baby gravy was dripping down my chin and onto my breasticles.
It was bliss having his cunt plunger slid inside me again; stuffing my tuna canal with a number of chillies just didn't get my municipal cockwash splurging like it used to. The mixture of stink pickle and love mayonnaise in my vintage golf bag created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. With my hairy goblet now much like the Japanese flag, 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? The pounding of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining his Ocean's 11 Inches deep in my turd cutter. The fucking makes me eject my clunge gunge all over his one-eyed monster. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his wrist-thick wand slid deeper into my chocolate starfish. When he removed his cheese-crusted cock from my other vagina, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the footlong fudge bullet off his skeleton king. I awoke the next morning with my tampon tunnel still frothing. I thought it was over but his cream reaper had other ideas. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his brie baton made my fallopian fish stock drip like a slug in a salt mine. The feeling of his creamy load foaming down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My moose knuckle was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. There was ectoplasm haemorrhaging from his stilton spear and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to ge
t my beige slime foaming from my cod crater, his balony pony is going to leave my piss flaps resembling the Japanese flag. I can't wait to devour the Da Vinci load from his devil's bagpipe. After having my pink velvet sausage wallet raided, he then proceeded to hammer my black hole. He copped a giant colon cobra on my mammaries just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like Terry Waite's allotment, and I was no different! Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my clunge pool and a lightbulb up my mud flap. By now, my municipal cockwash was sliming like a broken coffee maker. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his flesh gordon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his bald-headed yogurt slinger plowing deep into my quim, the sensation of his balony pony smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load draining from my fudge factory and all over my beef curtains. My cake hole was so full of Nelson's Column and love piss, the love piss was frothing down my chin and onto my rack. Inserting a 9-iron into my salmon slit got me gushing shrimp sap faster than snot off a whip.
When he removed his ample cock from my ring piece, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the toilet twinkie off his jade rod. The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his gristle missile soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to devour the creamy load from his skeleton king. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load haemorrhaging from my mud flap and all over my meaty hangers. My mouth was so full of eight inches of throbbing pink jesus and penis pudding, the Da Vinci load was frothing down my chin and onto my twin peaks. He munched on my vertical garden, 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 sperminator plunged deeper into my turd cutter. After having my vibration station slammed, he then proceeded to fuck my brown mile. With his long-dong silver fucking deep into my soft-shelled tuna taco, the sensation of his throbbing quim dagger smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. If I don't dial the rotary phone to get my flange custard dripping from my gashtray, his washington monument is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling a stamped bat. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and penis pudding in my turd-herder created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. The unrelenting orgasms from his womb ferret hammering my clam-flavoured pothole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my vibration station got me flooding pussy batter faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. There was steamin' semen slobbering from his bald-headed yogurt slinger and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The feeling of his love mayonnaise weeping down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With my piss flaps now much like Pete Burns' lips, he thought it was time to start shoving my soft tight anus. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a toilet twinkie, I wondered? The thrusting of my rusty sherif's badge was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his muffbuster deep in my turd-herder. My hot pocket was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. The slamming makes me gush my flange custard all over his blind butler. It was bliss having his battering ram probed inside me again; stuffing my hot pocket with a number of chillies just didn't get my smush mitten ejecting like it used to. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like a stuntman's knee, and I was no different! I awoke the next morning with my wunder down under still foaming. I thought it was over but his skeleton king had other ideas. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my hot pocket and a 15" spiked vibrator up my brown mile. He pinched off a giant sewer trout on my sweater puppies just so he could lap it up like a pig at a trough. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his washington monument made my shrimp sap leach like Adele waiting for Greggs to open.
