The Dream's Thorn

by Amy Woods

  Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my one slice toaster got me splurging shrimp sap faster than a greased weasel shit. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his turgid terror truncheon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my shamevelope was dripping like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. The hammering of my turd cutter was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his cunt plunger deep in my old dirt road. There was love mayonnaise trickling from his turgid terror truncheon 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 tenderloin truncheon rammed deeper into my poo pipe. I can't wait to lap the ectoplasm from his blind butler. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm slobbering from my fart valve and all over my purple cabbage. The feeling of his baby gravy slobbering down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than snot off a whip. My cake hole was so full of piss pipe and penis pudding, the penis pudding was draining down my chin and onto my boobage. After having my municipal cockwash fucked, he then proceeded to plow my balloon knot. The fucking makes me flood my flange custard all over his vein cane. I awoke the next morning with my carp cavity still foaming. I thought it was over but his balony pony had other ideas. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my clearing in the woods and an egg timer up my marmite motorway. The unrelenting orgasms from his tenderloin truncheon fucking my penis pothole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. With his bald avenger slamming deep into my whispering eye, the sensation of his bald-headed yogurt slinger smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's fishy flaps looking like an over inflated dinghy, and I was no different! The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and love piss in my black hole created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his master of ceremonies made my flange custard foam like a rabid dog. He cut a giant sewer trout on my sweater puppies just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. It was bliss having his pink tractor beam plunged inside me again; stuffing my gammon alley with a squash just didn't get my furry cup splurging like it used to. With my lunchmeat now much like a dropped burrito, he thought it was time to start probing my tradesman's entrance. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a stink pickle, I wondered? My shame portal was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. If I don't dial the rotary phone to get my clunge gunge seeping from my cod crater, his greasy slimelight is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling the south end of a badger going north. When he removed his battering ram from my fart valve, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the corn-eyed butt snake off his stilton sword.

  My mouth was so full of love lollipop and magician's wax, the cock custard was seeping down my chin and onto my breasticles. It was bliss having his womb raider probed inside me again; stuffing my hatchet wound with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my chamber of squelch flowing like it used to. After having my hot pocket slammed, he then proceeded to plow my rusty bullet hole. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like a werewolf with it's throat cut, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his sperminator fucking my mound of love pudding made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. My carp cavity was trembling like jelly. He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. I can't wait to suck the love piss from his thrill drill. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his gristle missile made my flange custard dribble like a broken fridge freezer. With his womb ferret pounding deep into my herring hole, the sensation of his flesh gordon smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and magician's wax in my tradesman's entrance created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The slamming of my poop chute was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his love muscle deep in my poop chute. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my vibration station and a 15" spiked vibrator up my chocolate starfish. There was love mayonnaise leaching from his timed slimer and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. He rolled a giant colon cobra on my rack just so he could lap it up like a pig at a trough. With my lunchmeat now much like a stamped bat, he thought it was time to start ramming my turd cutter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a butt nugget, I wondered? Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cream reaper stuffed deeper into my cocoa channel. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding haemorrhaging from my black hole and all over my meaty hangers. I awoke the next morning with my salmon slit still oozing. I thought it was over but his balony pony had other ideas. Inserting a lightbulb into my vaginal bacon buffet got me pouring clunge gunge faster than snot off a whip. By now, my furry cup was leaking like a leaky tap. The fucking makes me flow my tuna tunnel tears all over his flesh gordon. The feeling of his love piss leaking down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. When he removed his flesh gordon from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the toilet twinkie off his cunt plunger. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his Ocean's 11 Inches soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.

  Inserting a gerbil into my oyster ditch got me spouting beige slime faster than a greased weasel shit. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his cunt stretcher made my fallopian fish stock foam like a slug in a salt mine. The fucking of my fudge factory was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his stilton sword deep in my black hole. After having my oyster ditch pounded, he then proceeded to fuck my balloon knot. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like a stuntman's knee, and I was no different! He munched on my lunchmeat, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. The feeling of his steamin' semen dribbling down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than snot off a whip. There was love piss haemorrhaging from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. With his mutton dagger pounding deep into my soft-shelled tuna taco, the sensation of his cream reaper smashing my cervix made me quake like a rat on acid. When he removed his sperminator from my ring piece, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the butt nugget off his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. It was bliss having his Nelson's Column slid inside me again; stuffing my moose knuckle with my fist just didn't get my pink velvet sausage wallet spraying like it used to. The unrelenting orgasms from his blind butler raiding my depravity cavity made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his spam javelin soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With my fishy flaps now much like a hippo's yawn, he thought it was time to start shoving my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? I awoke the next morning with my vaginal bacon buffet still seeping. I thought it was over but his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon had other ideas. If I don't study english cliterature to get my flange custard foaming from my frilling pink golf bag, his tallywacker is going to leave my beef curtains resembling Brian May's plughole. He launched a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my rack just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. 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 balloon knot. Some girls are happy just to strum the banjo when
they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my ground zero grotto and a 15" spiked vibrator up my Oxo orifice. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard seeping from my fudge factory and all over my vertical smile. By now, my bearded haddock pasty was draining like a slug in a salt mine. The mixture of sewer trout and steamin' semen in my poo pipe created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The slamming makes me spout my minge mucus all over his ample cock. I can't wait to devour the baby gravy from his spam dagger. My ruby cave was trembling like a rat on acid.

  Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my fuck gutter and a barbie doll up my ring piece. There was steamin' semen leaching from his chorizo howitzer and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and creamy load in my tradesman's entrance created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. With his veiny quim prod raiding deep into my depravity cavity, the sensation of his skeleton king smashing my cervix made me quake like a rat on acid. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my clunge gunge draining from my soft-shelled tuna taco, his washington monument is going to leave my vertical smile resembling Pete Burns' lips. By now, my soft-shelled tuna taco was frothing like a George Foreman grill. My throat was so full of devil's bagpipe and ectoplasm, the gentleman's relish was slobbering down my chin and onto my boobage. The raiding of my other vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his ramrod deep in my poo pipe. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his flesh gordon made my clunge gunge flow like a George Foreman grill. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load weeping from my Mavis Fritter and all over my clap flaps. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his vein cane soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like John Wayne's saddlebags, and I was no different! Inserting a 9-iron into my carp cavity got me spattering flange custard faster than a greased weasel shit. I can't wait to consume the ectoplasm from his flesh gordon. The feeling of his steamin' semen slobbering down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his all-beef thermometer shoved deeper into my puckered brown eye. The raiding makes me flood my vertical moisture all over his gristle missile. He copped a giant sewer trout on my breasticles just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. I awoke the next morning with my split peach still trickling. I thought it was over but his skin flute had other ideas. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. With my vertical smile now much like the south end of a badger going north, he thought it was time to start plunging my Mavis Fritter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? The unrelenting orgasms from his brie baton slamming my cum dumpster made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. After having my gashtray fucked, he then proceeded to hammer my cocoa channel. When he removed his cunt plunger from my ring piece, 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 cheese-crusted cock. My Quimcy, M.E. was trembling like a shitting dog.

  With his ramrod fucking deep into my vibrator crater, the sensation of his cream reaper smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like the south end of a badger going north, and I was no different! Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his tallywacker made my tuna tunnel tears seep like a broken fridge freezer. I awoke the next morning with my shame portal still trickling. I thought it was over but his washington monument had other ideas. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love piss foaming from my rusty sherif's badge and all over my furburger. After having my smush mitten raided, he then proceeded to pound my ring piece. 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 oyster ditch and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my poo pipe. The fucking of my other vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his bugger king deep in my poo pipe. My enchilada of love was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. When he removed his tenderloin truncheon from my marmite motorway, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the colon cobra off his ample cock. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my minge mucus foaming from my hot pocket, his balony pony is going to leave my purple cabbage resembling a blind cobbler's thumb. I can't wait to devour the ectoplasm from his blue-veined custard chucker. By now, my municipal cockwash was foaming like a rabid dog. The feeling of his baby gravy frothing down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his clunger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. The mixture of toilet twinkie and love piss in my other vagina created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. My cake hole was so full of love muscle and ectoplasm, the cock custard was foaming down my chin and onto my top bollocks. There was baby gravy dripping from his skeleton king and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. It was bliss having his purple-headed trouser snake shoved inside me again; stuffing my south mouth with a barbie doll just didn't get my chlamydia canal flooding like it used to. The unrelenting orgasms from his womb ferret raiding my front bum made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his veiny quim prod rammed deeper into my Oxo orifice. The fucking makes me pour my fallopian fish stock all over his brie baton. Inserting a lightbulb into my ground zero grotto got me ejecting minge mucus faster than snot off a whip. With my lunchmeat now much like a werewolf with it's throat cut, he thought it was time to start shoving my rusty bullet hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to blast a stink pickle, I wondered?

  The feeling of his gentleman's relish foaming down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Inserting a squash into my herring hole got me gushing fallopian fish stock faster than a greased weasel shit. The raiding makes me gush my flange custard all over his womb raider. By now, my salmon slit was dribbling like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. 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 quim and a squash up my soft tight anus. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm oozing from my rusty sherif's badge and all over my beef curtains. I can't wait to lap the gentleman's relish from his piss pipe. When he removed his bugger king from my turd-herder, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the butt nugget off his greasy slimelight. He copped a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my rack just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. I awoke the next morning with my municipal cockwash still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon had other ideas. My throat was so full of skin flute and cock snot, the creamy load was oozing down my chin and onto my chest puppies. After having my penis pothole slammed, he then proceeded to plow my fart valve. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his piss pipe soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his skeleton king made my spaff leach like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like a manatee in yoga pants, and I was no different! My frilling pink golf ba
g was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The unrelenting orgasms from his skin flute hammering my cod cave made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and creamy load in my black hole created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. If I don't fluff the muff to get my beige slime sliming from my cod crater, his blind butler is going to leave my piss flaps resembling a blind cobbler's thumb. There was steamin' semen haemorrhaging from his love muscle and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. The fucking of my chocolate starfish was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his timed slimer deep in my fudge factory. It was bliss having his stilton spear rammed inside me again; stuffing my meat purse with a squash just didn't get my cock holster flooding like it used to. With his meaty member raiding deep into my spunk dungeon, the sensation of his bald avenger smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his mutton dagger rammed deeper into my cocoa channel. He munched on my roast beef platter, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week.