The Dream's Thorn

by Amy Woods

  I awoke the next morning with my tampon tunnel still dribbling. I thought it was over but his jebend had other ideas. My cake hole was so full of clunger and gentleman's relish, the steamin' semen was haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my chesticles. The plowing makes me spray my spaff all over his muffbuster. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like a motorway pileup, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his love lollipop fucking my vibrator crater made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. With his timed slimer plowing deep into my meat purse, the sensation of his spunk-filled spam rocket smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. He copped a giant toilet twinkie on my mosquito bites just so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough. I can't wait to gobble the cock custard from his long-dong silver. After having my gaping clam cavern thrusted, he then proceeded to pound my fudge factory. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cumtree probed deeper into my shit winker. There was ectoplasm trickling from his spam dagger and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. With my purple cabbage now much like John Wayne's saddlebags, he thought it was time to start stuffing my cocoa channel. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a stink pickle, I wondered? When he removed his cream reaper 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 devour the sewer trout off his mutton dagger. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his slut slayer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. If I don't buff the muff to get my tuna tunnel tears leaking from my sperm socket, his bald avenger is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling a stuntman's knee. He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd been up on bricks 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 number of chillies in my wunder down under and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my poo pipe. It was bliss having his flesh gordon shoved inside me again; stuffing my cod crater with a lightbulb just didn't get my south mouth squirting like it used to. The feeling of his man fat sliming down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and cock custard in my puckered brown eye created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load leaching from my marmite motorway and all over my meaty hangers. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus made my fallopian fish stock leak like a leaky tap. By now, my one slice toaster was leaching like a George Foreman grill. The raiding of my fart valve was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his one-eyed milkman deep in my ring piece. My hatchet wound was trembling like a shitting dog.

  Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his wensleydale wand made my tuna tunnel tears drain like a slavering dog. The hammering of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his cumtree deep in my puckered brown eye. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like a manatee in yoga pants, and I was no different! It was bliss having his vein cane rammed inside me again; stuffing my municipal cockwash with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my gashtray spouting like it used to. I can't wait to consume the steamin' semen from his ramrod. He dropped a giant stink pickle on my boobage just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his bugger king soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my ground zero grotto and a gerbil up my rusty sherif's badge. If I don't study english cliterature to get my minge monsoon seeping from my municipal cockwash, his kebeb skewer is going to leave my furburger resembling a bulldog in a windtunnel. I awoke the next morning with my slime hole still leaching. I thought it was over but his cream reaper had other ideas. There was cock snot sliming from his giggle stick and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. The feeling of his cock snot slobbering down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than snot off a whip. My mouth was so full of ample cock and Da Vinci load, the ectoplasm was trickling 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 eight inches of throbbing pink jesus probed deeper into my balloon knot. After having my depravity cavity raided, he then proceeded to thrust my chocolate starfish. My vaginal bacon buffet was trembling like jelly. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen leaching from my other vagina and all over my beef curtains. The fucking makes me gush my clunge gunge all over his spam dagger. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and gentleman's relish in my rusty bullet hole created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. By now, my gashtray was oozing like a rabid dog. Inserting my fist into my penis pothole got me flooding tuna tunnel tears faster than snot off a whip. The unrelenting orgasms from his long-dong silver slamming my salmon slit made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a manatee in yoga pants, he thought it was time to start plunging my mud flap. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? When he removed his devil's bagpipe from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the corn-eyed butt snake off his tallywacker.

  Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my tampon tunnel and a 15" spiked vibrator up my turd cutter. It was bliss having his cunt plunger slid inside me again; stuffing my gaping clam cavern with a lightbulb just didn't get my stench trench flowing like it used to. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and baby gravy in my other vagina created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his chorizo howitzer stuffed deeper into my tradesman's entrance. My cake hole was so full of tallywacker and cock custard, the cock custard was weeping down my chin and onto my boobage. When he removed his huge penis from my rusty bullet hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the hardened fudge nugget off his bugger king. I can't wait to chow down on the Da Vinci load from his flesh gordon. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his washington monument soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. After having my gaping clam cavern fucked, he then proceeded to hammer my balloon knot. If I don't play the clitar to get my minge monsoon weeping from my mound of love pudding, his washington monument is going to leave my furburger resembling a sand blasted tomato. He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. There was love piss slobbering from his bald avenger and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his ample cock made my minge mucus drain like a slug in a salt mine. By now, my quim was weeping like a leaky tap. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish flowing from my old dirt road and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. With his chorizo howitzer thrusting deep into my penis pothole, the sensation of his piss pipe smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. My ground zero grotto was trembling like a rat on acid. The fucking makes me spout my beige slime all over his batter blaster. The feeling of his man fat dripping down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He pinched off a giant footlong fudge bullet on my sweater puppies just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The unrelenting orgasms from his batter blaster pounding my soft-shelled tuna taco made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike
Tyson at a spelling bee. I awoke the next morning with my gaping clam cavern still dripping. I thought it was over but his cheese-crusted cock had other ideas. Inserting a number of chillies into my quim got me ejecting vertical moisture faster than a greased weasel shit. With my clap flaps now much like Terry Waite's allotment, he thought it was time to start ramming my marmite motorway. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a stink pickle, I wondered? Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's flappy meal looking like a rabid baboon's arse, and I was no different!

  Inserting a squash into my hot pocket got me pouring vertical moisture faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load leaking from my poo pipe and all over my spam castanets. My chamber of squelch was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. It was bliss having his bald-headed yogurt slinger shoved inside me again; stuffing my sperm socket with an egg timer just didn't get my gammon alley spritzing like it used to. I can't wait to chow down on the cock custard from his long-dong silver. The raiding makes me eject my fallopian fish stock all over his cumtree. The raiding of my brown mile was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his battering ram deep in my Oxo orifice. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. With my beef curtains now much like the Japanese flag, he thought it was time to start plunging my other vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to curl a colon cobra, I wondered? Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like a werewolf with it's throat cut, and I was no different! There was gentleman's relish seeping from his stilton spear and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. I awoke the next morning with my one slice toaster still leaking. I thought it was over but his meaty member had other ideas. When he removed his cream reaper from my soft tight anus, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the footlong fudge bullet off his greasy kebab skewer. The unrelenting orgasms from his vein cane slamming my kipper dinghy made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. By now, my pink velvet sausage wallet was dripping like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. The mixture of toilet twinkie and ectoplasm in my mud flap created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. After having my ruby cave hammered, he then proceeded to pound my chocolate starfish. If I don't play the clitar to get my minge mucus foaming from my chlamydia canal, his Ocean's 11 Inches is going to leave my vertical smile resembling Terry Waite's allotment. The feeling of his love piss frothing down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He crowned a giant colon cobra on my rack just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. My cake hole was so full of pink tractor beam and ectoplasm, the penis pudding was seeping down my chin and onto my tatas. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his bald-headed yogurt slinger made my beige slime leak like a slavering dog. With his disco stick hammering deep into my shame portal, the sensation of his giggle stick smashing my cervix made me quake like a tasered slab of chopped liver. 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 slime hole and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my cocoa channel. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his blue-veined custard chucker soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.

  I can't wait to gobble the ectoplasm from his greasy kebab skewer. My throat was so full of bugger king and ectoplasm, the cock custard was trickling down my chin and onto my breasticles. If I don't strum the banjo to get my sex wee weeping from my tuna canal, his gristle missile is going to leave my spam castanets resembling a shot cat. There was cock custard oozing from his washington monument and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my gaping clam cavern and a barbie doll up my Mavis Fritter. I awoke the next morning with my gammon alley still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his timed slimer had other ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his love muscle plunged deeper into my soft tight anus. He munched on my purple cabbage, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his giggle stick made my sex wee leak like a slavering dog. When he removed his throbbing quim dagger from my brown mile, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the sewer trout off his womb ferret. It was bliss having his pink tractor beam stuffed inside me again; stuffing my split peach with a 9-iron just didn't get my one slice toaster gushing like it used to. The unrelenting orgasms from his giggle stick plowing my penis pothole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. The mixture of sewer trout and love mayonnaise in my poop chute created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. By now, my tampon tunnel was draining like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. With his Nelson's Column raiding deep into my quim, the sensation of his thrill drill smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. He extruded a giant Mr. Hanky on my sweater puppies just so he could gobble it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The hammering makes me flood my beige slime all over his jade rod. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat oozing from my fart valve and all over my hairy goblet. The slamming of my brown mile was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his skeleton king deep in my Oxo orifice. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my vibrator crater got me flooding minge monsoon faster than snot off a whip. With my purple cabbage now much like a stuntman's knee, he thought it was time to start sliding my brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a toilet twinkie, I wondered? The feeling of his love mayonnaise foaming down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. After having my mound of love pudding fucked, he then proceeded to thrust my tradesman's entrance. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his battering ram soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My calamari cockring was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator.

  With his jade rod pounding deep into my moose knuckle, the sensation of his jebend smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my wizards sleeve got me squirting sex wee faster than a greased weasel shit. By now, my depravity cavity was frothing like a George Foreman grill. After having my bearded haddock pasty thrusted, he then proceeded to pound my other vagina. With my panty hamster now much like badly battered road kill, he thought it was time to start ramming my cocoa channel. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a sewer trout, I wondered? Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his blue-veined custard chucker made my spaff leak like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. The plowing of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his love lollipop deep in my Oxo orifice. When he removed his thrill drill from my shit winker, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the hardened fudge nugget off his greasy slimelight. If I don't fluff the muff to get my clunge gunge trickling from my clam-flavoured pothole, his cheese-crusted cock is going to leave my furburger resembling a hippo's yawn. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my herring hole and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my marmite motorway. My mouth was so full of jebend and steamin' semen, the penis pudding was dribbling down my chin and onto my mammaries. The unrelenting orgasms from his timed slimer pounding my penis pothole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's panty h
amster looking like Brian May's plughole, and I was no different! I can't wait to consume the creamy load from his blind butler. He extruded a giant stink pickle on my rack just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. There was magician's wax seeping from his kebeb skewer and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding seeping from my Mavis Fritter and all over my flappy meal. The feeling of his ectoplasm slobbering down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. I awoke the next morning with my carp cavity still trickling. I thought it was over but his vein cane had other ideas. It was bliss having his bald avenger probed inside me again; stuffing my vibrator crater with my fist just didn't get my clunge pool spritzing like it used to. The mixture of sewer trout and creamy load in my rusty sherif's badge created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The hammering makes me spritz my pussy batter all over his cumtree. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his wrist-thick wand slid deeper into my rusty sherif's badge. He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. The seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his chorizo howitzer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.

  Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my chamber of squelch and a 9-iron up my chocolate starfish. There was magician's wax dribbling from his cunt stretcher and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. I can't wait to suck the penis pudding from his all-beef thermometer. If I don't buff the muff to get my pussy batter seeping from my clearing in the woods, his disco stick is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling a badly wrapped kebab. He cut a giant footlong fudge bullet on my twin peaks just so he could consume it up like a pig at a trough. By now, my carp cavity was trickling like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm seeping from my tradesman's entrance and all over my purple cabbage. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his disco stick soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The feeling of his creamy load sliming down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. My throat was so full of skeleton king and magician's wax, the man fat was flowing down my chin and onto my chest puppies. After having my shamevelope hammered, he then proceeded to raid my shit winker. When he removed his bugger king from my fart valve, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the sewer trout off his clunger. With his one-eyed monster pounding deep into my enchilada of love, the sensation of his love muscle smashing my cervix made me quake like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! The plowing makes me gush my fallopian fish stock all over his flesh gordon. It was bliss having his flesh gordon shoved inside me again; stuffing my clunge pool with an egg timer just didn't get my birth cannon ejecting like it used to. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his womb ferret probed deeper into my tradesman's entrance. With my panty hamster now much like the south end of a badger going north, he thought it was time to start plunging my brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? I awoke the next morning with my spunk dungeon still dribbling. I thought it was over but his greasy slimelight had other ideas. Inserting a gerbil into my cock holster got me ejecting clunge gunge faster than snot off a whip. My hatchet wound was trembling like a rat on acid. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his blind butler made my minge monsoon drip like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and love piss in my marmite motorway created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. The hammering of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his master of ceremonies deep in my black hole. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week.