by Amy Woods
By now, my penis pothole was sliming like a jizz waterfall. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cervix cigar probed deeper into my rusty sherif's badge. He dropped a giant footlong fudge bullet on my sweater puppies just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. After having my slime hole hammered, he then proceeded to pound my puckered brown eye. Inserting an antique doorknob into my hatchet wound got me spritzing minge monsoon faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd been walking the red carpet 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 clam-flavoured pothole and a barbie doll up my soft tight anus. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding dribbling from my turd-herder and all over my flappy meal. The fucking makes me eject my sex wee all over his spunk-filled spam rocket. If I don't buff the muff to get my flange custard dripping from my moose knuckle, his clunger is going to leave my panty hamster resembling a ripped out fireplace. With my velcro triangle now much like a sand blasted tomato, he thought it was time to start ramming my fudge factory. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? The thrusting of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his kebeb skewer deep in my Mavis Fritter. My frilling pink golf bag was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. There was love piss sliming from his cunt plunger and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. I can't wait to consume the magician's wax from his skin flute. When he removed his cumtree from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the hardened fudge nugget off his jade rod. The feeling of his Da Vinci load dripping down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his clunger made my spaff ooze like a slug in a salt mine. My throat was so full of vein cane and magician's wax, the ectoplasm was oozing down my chin and onto my cans. It was bliss having his batter blaster probed inside me again; stuffing my cum dumpster with a gerbil just didn't get my kipper dinghy squirting like it used to. I awoke the next morning with my soft-shelled tuna taco still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his skeleton king had other ideas. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and love piss in my turd cutter created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. With his tenderloin truncheon raiding deep into my gaping clam cavern, the sensation of his timed slimer smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like John Wayne's saddlebags, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon thrusting my stench trench made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs.
I awoke the next morning with my smush mitten still leaking. I thought it was over but his cheese-crusted cock had other ideas. Inserting a lightbulb into my pink velvet sausage wallet got me spraying clunge gunge faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The feeling of his cock custard haemorrhaging down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. After having my fuck gutter thrusted, he then proceeded to hammer my shit winker. He munched on my flappy meal, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. He dropped a giant footlong fudge bullet on my chest puppies just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. There was cock snot trickling from his stilton spear and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. If I don't fluff the muff to get my clunge gunge leaching from my hatchet wound, his spunk-filled spam rocket is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling the south end of a badger going north. With my velcro triangle now much like a blind cobbler's thumb, he thought it was time to start ramming my turd-herder. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his jebend made my clunge gunge dribble like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my carp cavity and a 15" spiked vibrator up my marmite motorway. My cod cave was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. By now, my wizards sleeve was frothing like a jizz waterfall. When he removed his sperminator from my other vagina, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the stink pickle off his flesh gordon. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his one-eyed monster soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The hammering of my chocolate starfish was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his stilton sword deep in my shit winker. With his timed slimer pounding deep into my ground zero grotto, the sensation of his thrill drill smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like an over inflated dinghy, and I was no different! My throat was so full of tenderloin truncheon and cock snot, the love piss was frothing down my chin and onto my sweater puppies. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his disco stick rammed deeper into my mud flap. The unrelenting orgasms from his all-beef thermometer plowing my vaginal bacon buffet made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. The mixture of toilet twinkie and magician's wax in my mud flap created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot trickling from my Oxo orifice and all over my vertical smile. I can't wait to gobble the cock snot from his throbbing quim dagger. The pounding makes me pour my sex wee all over his balony pony.
I can't wait to consume the cock snot from his womb ferret. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his cheese-crusted cock soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his chorizo howitzer hammering deep into my pink velvet sausage wallet, the sensation of his cunt plunger smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The hammering of my turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights joining his chorizo howitzer deep in my fart valve. My cake hole was so full of brie baton and gentleman's relish, the love mayonnaise was flowing down my chin and onto my top bollocks. By now, my municipal cockwash was oozing like a slavering dog. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his muffbuster probed deeper into my tradesman's entrance. There was love mayonnaise leaking from his piss pipe and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms from his stilton spear fucking my clunge pool made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. He munched on my purple cabbage, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and steamin' semen in my soft tight anus created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. My chamber of squelch was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. The thrusting makes me spout my clunge gunge all over his turgid terror truncheon. I awoke the next morning with my hatchet wound still slobbering. I thought it was over but his throbbing quim dagger had other ideas. When he removed his skin flute from my soft tight anus, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the hardened fudge nugget off his bugger king. After having my shamevelope raided, he then proceeded to thrust my brown mile. It was bliss having his tenderloin truncheon slid inside me again; stuffing my kipper dinghy with a number of chillies just didn't get my cod cave spraying like it used to. He launched a giant colon cobra on my top bollocks just so he could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like a hippo's yawn, and I was no different! Inserting a barbie doll into my wizards sleeve got me pouring beige slime faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like the south end of a b
adger going north, he thought it was time to start shoving my marmite motorway. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? Some girls are happy just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my south mouth and a number of chillies up my old dirt road. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his thrill drill made my flange custard leak like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. The feeling of his Da Vinci load leaking down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy leaking from my poop chute and all over my velcro triangle.
The unrelenting orgasms from his spam javelin thrusting my ruby cave made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. It was bliss having his Nelson's Column stuffed inside me again; stuffing my ruby cave with a squash just didn't get my salmon slit splurging like it used to. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my wunder down under and a number of chillies up my Mavis Fritter. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his meaty member probed deeper into my old dirt road. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my mound of love pudding got me ejecting vertical moisture faster than snot off a whip. There was man fat haemorrhaging from his bugger king and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. With his chubstep slamming deep into my cock holster, the sensation of his piss pipe smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. I awoke the next morning with my gammon alley still frothing. I thought it was over but his cunt stretcher had other ideas. My mouth was so full of greasy slimelight and love piss, the creamy load was draining down my chin and onto my droopies. He launched a giant colon cobra on my breasticles just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's fishy flaps looking like a blind cobbler's thumb, and I was no different! The fucking of my black hole was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon deep in my turd cutter. When he removed his purple beaver buster from my soft tight anus, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the sewer trout off his bugger king. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his battering ram soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to suck the baby gravy from his sperminator. The feeling of his Da Vinci load seeping down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. With my hairy goblet now much like a gutted trout, he thought it was time to start plunging my rusty sherif's badge. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a butt nugget, I wondered? My frilling pink golf bag was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. By now, my cum dumpster was seeping like a rabid dog. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his love muscle made my vertical moisture slime like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. After having my birth cannon hammered, he then proceeded to raid my brown eye. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load dribbling from my mud flap and all over my panty hamster. The thrusting makes me pour my minge monsoon all over his love lollipop. The mixture of stink pickle and cock custard in my turd cutter created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of.
It was bliss having his cumtree plunged inside me again; stuffing my cock holster with my fist just didn't get my enchilada of love gushing like it used to. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his giggle stick soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my shamevelope was frothing like a jizz waterfall. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his flesh gordon made my sex wee slobber like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like a motorway pileup, and I was no different! When he removed his bald avenger from my old dirt road, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the sewer trout off his throbbing quim dagger. There was steamin' semen oozing from his long-dong silver and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms from his greasy kebab skewer thrusting my hot pocket made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding flowing from my brown mile and all over my lunchmeat. The hammering of my chocolate starfish was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his kebeb skewer deep in my turd-herder. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and magician's wax in my chocolate starfish created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his slut slayer probed deeper into my turd cutter. He extruded a giant hardened fudge nugget on my love bubbles just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. Some girls are happy just to play the clitar when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my birth cannon and a squash up my turd cutter. I awoke the next morning with my shame portal still dribbling. I thought it was over but his gristle missile had other ideas. After having my hot pocket slammed, he then proceeded to thrust my fart valve. I can't wait to consume the love piss from his meaty member. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a bucket of smashed crabs, he thought it was time to start shoving my soft tight anus. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a sewer trout, I wondered? My sperm socket was trembling like a shitting dog. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my tampon tunnel got me gushing minge monsoon faster than snot off a whip. My cake hole was so full of cheese-crusted cock and magician's wax, the gentleman's relish was dripping down my chin and onto my cans. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. If I don't finger blast to get my beige slime foaming from my chlamydia canal, his timed slimer is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling a bulldog in a windtunnel. The feeling of his cock snot frothing down my throat got my tuna tunnel tears flowing quicker than snot off a whip. With his all-beef thermometer hammering deep into my soft-shelled tuna taco, the sensation of his wrist-thick wand smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer.
If I don't fluff the muff to get my sex wee flowing from my ladytown, his washington monument is going to leave my piss flaps resembling a shot cat. With my clap flaps now much like John Wayne's saddlebags, he thought it was time to start plunging my rusty bullet hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a colon cobra, I wondered? He blasted a giant hardened fudge nugget on my love bubbles just so he could gobble it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his one-eyed monster slid deeper into my turd-herder. Inserting a lightbulb into my salmon slit got me gushing pussy batter faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his slut slayer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The feeling of his penis pudding leaking down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and penis pudding in my shit winker created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. My cake hole was so full of vein cane and love piss, the gentleman's relish was slobbering down my chin and onto my chesticles. After having my cod cave raided, he then proceeded to fuck my balloon knot. I awoke the next morning with my ground zero grotto still flowing. I thought it was over but his battering ram had other ideas. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like a rabid baboon's arse, and I was no different! 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 meat purse and a barbie doll up my rusty bullet hole. It was bliss having his thrill drill plunged inside me again; stuffing my meat purs
e with a number of chillies just didn't get my cum dumpster flowing like it used to. With his meaty member plowing deep into my mound of love pudding, the sensation of his flesh gordon smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his tenderloin truncheon made my shrimp sap haemorrhage like a slug in a salt mine. The thrusting of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his stilton spear deep in my soft tight anus. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax haemorrhaging from my poop chute and all over my velcro triangle. I can't wait to devour the gentleman's relish from his timed slimer. My gashtray was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. When he removed his clunger from my vintage golf bag, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the footlong fudge bullet off his kebeb skewer. The unrelenting orgasms from his skin flute pounding my penis pothole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. By now, my pink velvet sausage wallet was frothing like a broken fridge freezer. There was magician's wax leaching from his greasy slimelight and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. The slamming makes me spout my tuna tunnel tears all over his love muscle.
