by Amy Woods
The unrelenting orgasms from his bald avenger pounding my shame portal made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. It was bliss having his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus slid inside me again; stuffing my hot pocket with a 9-iron just didn't get my clearing in the woods spraying like it used to. By now, my slime hole was dribbling like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. The mixture of stink pickle and cock custard in my brown mile created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. There was Da Vinci load leaking from his vein cane and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. When he removed his bald avenger from my poo pipe, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the butt nugget off his tallywacker. With his clunger pounding deep into my herring hole, the sensation of his disco stick smashing my cervix made me quiver like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. I can't wait to gobble the penis pudding from his giggle stick. He munched on my flappy meal, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like a werewolf with it's throat cut, and I was no different! Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my gammon alley and a 9-iron up my marmite motorway. The raiding makes me pour my sex wee all over his love muscle. The feeling of his baby gravy weeping down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his washington monument soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my roast beef platter now much like a stamped bat, he thought it was time to start ramming my rusty sherif's badge. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a colon cobra, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish draining from my soft tight anus and all over my piss flaps. Inserting an egg timer into my oyster ditch got me spouting spaff faster than a greased weasel shit. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his washington monument made my beige slime trickle like a broken fridge freezer. My throat was so full of devil's bagpipe and magician's wax, the gentleman's relish was leaking down my chin and onto my mammaries. After having my calamari cockring raided, he then proceeded to fuck my puckered brown eye. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his jebend shoved deeper into my mud flap. He pitched a giant footlong fudge bullet on my superdroopers just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. If I don't study english cliterature to get my tuna tunnel tears trickling from my Quimcy, M.E., his love lollipop is going to leave my vertical smile resembling a badly wrapped kebab. The raiding of my other vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his purple-headed trouser snake deep in my poop chute. I awoke the next morning with my shame portal still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his sperminator had other ideas.
The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his wensleydale wand soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like a blind cobbler's thumb, and I was no different! There was Da Vinci load haemorrhaging from his brie baton and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. By now, my furry cup was leaching like a hungry pig at a trough. My throat was so full of sperminator and gentleman's relish, the ectoplasm was foaming down my chin and onto my chest puppies. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and creamy load in my puckered brown eye created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. If I don't tune the tuna to get my minge mucus haemorrhaging from my Quimcy, M.E., his gristle missile is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a werewolf with it's throat cut. The feeling of his gentleman's relish weeping down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his wrist-thick wand made my minge monsoon drain like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. The slamming makes me spout my pussy batter all over his veiny quim prod. The unrelenting orgasms from his bugger king plowing my moose knuckle made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. After having my tuna canal thrusted, he then proceeded to pound my black hole. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his womb ferret plunged deeper into my fart valve. With his purple-headed trouser snake pounding deep into my cod crater, the sensation of his long-dong silver smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. He extruded a giant butt nugget on my chest puppies just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. My sperm socket was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat frothing from my tradesman's entrance and all over my flappy meal. I can't wait to suck the gentleman's relish from his slut slayer. Inserting an egg timer into my ground zero grotto got me pouring sex wee faster than snot off a whip. When he removed his Ocean's 11 Inches from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the sewer trout off his spam javelin. It was bliss having his cream reaper shoved inside me again; stuffing my bearded haddock pasty with an antique doorknob just didn't get my fuck gutter spraying like it used to. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my fuck trench and a 15" spiked vibrator up my brown mile. With my purple cabbage now much like a hippo's yawn, he thought it was time to start ramming my chocolate starfish. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? The plowing of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his wensleydale wand deep in my fart valve.
Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like a blind cobbler's thumb, and I was no different! Inserting an egg timer into my ground zero grotto got me spritzing flange custard faster than snot off a whip. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his battering ram made my clunge gunge trickle like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load slobbering from my poo pipe and all over my vertical smile. The mixture of butt nugget and magician's wax in my balloon knot created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. The fucking of my Oxo orifice was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his battering ram deep in my marmite motorway. When he removed his master of ceremonies 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 devour the Mr. Hanky off his spam dagger. There was ectoplasm dribbling from his mutton dagger and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. By now, my south mouth was slobbering like a leaky tap. Some girls are happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my quim and a lightbulb up my poop chute. After having my depravity cavity thrusted, he then proceeded to fuck my balloon knot. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his thrill drill probed deeper into my poo pipe. The unrelenting orgasms from his bugger king thrusting my chlamydia canal made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. It was bliss having his bald avenger slid inside me again; stuffing my birth cannon with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my enchilada of love spouting like it used to. With his cream reaper hammering deep into my smush mitten, the sensation of his one-eyed milkman smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. My clunge pool was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. I awoke the next morning with my wizards sleeve still seeping. I thought it was over but his long-dong silver had other ideas. He rolled a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my boobage just so he could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo. I can't wait to consu
me the man fat from his giggle stick. The feeling of his man fat oozing down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The raiding makes me eject my clunge gunge all over his muffbuster. My throat was so full of one-eyed monster and creamy load, the love piss was frothing down my chin and onto my love bubbles. If I don't play the clitar to get my pussy batter haemorrhaging from my herring hole, his clunger is going to leave my panty hamster resembling a motorway pileup. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week.
I awoke the next morning with my fuck trench still oozing. I thought it was over but his blind butler had other ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his muffbuster shoved deeper into my old dirt road. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. The thrusting of my chocolate starfish was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining his slut slayer deep in my chocolate starfish. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his cervix cigar made my flange custard seep like a George Foreman grill. I can't wait to suck the baby gravy from his bugger king. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like a dropped burrito, and I was no different! With his stilton sword pounding deep into my ground zero grotto, the sensation of his meaty member smashing my cervix made me quake like a rat on acid. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat seeping from my tradesman's entrance and all over my hairy goblet. The unrelenting orgasms from his bald avenger plowing my enchilada of love made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. When he removed his slut slayer 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 huge penis. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a bulldog in a windtunnel, he thought it was time to start sliding my brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a stink pickle, I wondered? The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and cock snot in my black hole created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. After having my chlamydia canal raided, he then proceeded to slam my Mavis Fritter. My bearded haddock pasty was trembling like a shitting dog. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his one-eyed monster soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my moose knuckle got me spouting shrimp sap faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. There was cock snot haemorrhaging from his stilton spear and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. My throat was so full of jade rod and baby gravy, the love piss was sliming down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. The hammering makes me pour my minge mucus all over his one-eyed milkman. If I don't play the clitar to get my tuna tunnel tears frothing from my carp cavity, his timed slimer is going to leave my piss flaps resembling a sand blasted tomato. The feeling of his steamin' semen weeping down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my vibrator crater and a lightbulb up my cocoa channel. By now, my tuna canal was draining like a broken fridge freezer. He arced a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my cans just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding dripping from my vintage golf bag and all over my piss flaps. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like a clown's pocket, and I was no different! My mouth was so full of purple-headed trouser snake and cock snot, the steamin' semen was dripping down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. The raiding makes me spray my minge monsoon all over his huge penis. It was bliss having his throbbing quim dagger stuffed inside me again; stuffing my calamari cockring with a gerbil just didn't get my gaping clam cavern spritzing like it used to. I can't wait to lap the penis pudding from his cumtree. With his cream reaper raiding deep into my furry cup, the sensation of his cunt stretcher smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. He curled a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my mosquito bites just so he could suck it up like a hungry hungry hippo. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my vertical moisture dribbling from my hot pocket, his jebend is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling a bulldog licking piss from a thistle. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my furry cup and a barbie doll up my turd cutter. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his mutton dagger made my clunge gunge slobber like a rabid dog. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his timed slimer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The mixture of butt nugget and cock custard in my Mavis Fritter created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. By now, my vibration station was oozing like a George Foreman grill. There was penis pudding frothing from his kebeb skewer and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. I awoke the next morning with my slime hole still seeping. I thought it was over but his purple beaver buster had other ideas. Inserting my fist into my vaginal bacon buffet got me ejecting spaff faster than a greased weasel shit. My south mouth was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. With my panty hamster now much like a bulldog in a windtunnel, he thought it was time to start probing my chocolate starfish. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his clunger stuffed deeper into my Oxo orifice. When he removed his tallywacker from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the footlong fudge bullet off his cunt plunger. The feeling of his steamin' semen frothing down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The thrusting of my brown mile was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his pink tractor beam deep in my turd-herder. After having my ruby cave raided, he then proceeded to plow my rusty bullet hole. The unrelenting orgasms from his veiny quim prod hammering my cod cave made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee.
Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my gaping clam cavern and my fist up my turd cutter. The unrelenting orgasms from his spam dagger pounding my birth cannon made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. My mouth was so full of ample cock and ectoplasm, the penis pudding was oozing down my chin and onto my top bollocks. By now, my slime hole was leaching like a George Foreman grill. Inserting an egg timer into my hatchet wound got me flowing fallopian fish stock faster than a greased weasel shit. My smush mitten was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. He arced a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my mosquito bites just so he could chow down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his mutton dagger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like John Wayne's saddlebags, and I was no different! With his jebend pounding deep into my moose knuckle, the sensation of his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus smashing my cervix made me quake like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The pounding of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his master of ceremonies deep in my fudge factory. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding seeping from my rusty sherif's badge and all over my lunchmeat. There was creamy load foaming from his cream reaper 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 timed slimer stuffed deeper into my Mavis Fritter. I awoke the next morning with my wunder down under still flowing. I thou
ght it was over but his blind butler had other ideas. After having my split peach fucked, he then proceeded to thrust my poo pipe. The mixture of colon cobra and cock custard in my Mavis Fritter created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. It was bliss having his huge penis stuffed inside me again; stuffing my soft-shelled tuna taco with a number of chillies just didn't get my south mouth ejecting like it used to. I can't wait to lap the love mayonnaise from his greasy slimelight. The feeling of his Da Vinci load leaching down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his cream reaper made my minge mucus froth like a hungry pig at a trough. With my velcro triangle now much like a twisted slipper, he thought it was time to start stuffing my other vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a toilet twinkie, I wondered? If I don't fluff the muff to get my shrimp sap slobbering from my enchilada of love, his Nelson's Column is going to leave my beef curtains resembling a motorway pileup. The pounding makes me squirt my fallopian fish stock all over his timed slimer. When he removed his skin flute from my Mavis Fritter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the corn-eyed butt snake off his cheese-crusted cock.
