by Amy Woods
Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his spam javelin made my fallopian fish stock drip like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. The fucking of my poop chute was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights joining his tallywacker deep in my old dirt road. Some girls are happy just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my cod canyon and a 15" spiked vibrator up my fart valve. The feeling of his gentleman's relish slobbering down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my kipper dinghy got me spritzing sex wee faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With his tenderloin truncheon plowing deep into my salmon slit, the sensation of his mutton dagger smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. After having my one slice toaster pounded, he then proceeded to hammer my mud flap. It was bliss having his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon probed inside me again; stuffing my fuck gutter with a barbie doll just didn't get my front bum spouting like it used to. He extruded a giant sewer trout on my sweater puppies just so he could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his blind butler rammed deeper into my Oxo orifice. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. When he removed his washington monument from my brown mile, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the toilet twinkie off his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. The unrelenting orgasms from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus slamming my ladytown made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. I awoke the next morning with my front bum still dripping. I thought it was over but his womb ferret had other ideas. There was magician's wax leaching from his one-eyed monster and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. I can't wait to consume the steamin' semen from his Ocean's 11 Inches. My fuck trench was trembling like jelly. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load sliming from my vintage golf bag and all over my vertical smile. If I don't finger blast to get my fallopian fish stock haemorrhaging from my tuna canal, his master of ceremonies is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling a rabid baboon's arse. By now, my frilling pink golf bag was foaming like a broken coffee maker. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and cock custard in my tradesman's entrance created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The pounding makes me eject my minge monsoon all over his piss pipe. With my piss flaps now much like a stamped bat, he thought it was time to start sliding my other vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to blast a butt nugget, I wondered? Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like a motorway pileup, and I was no different! My mouth was so full of greasy slimelight and man fat, the baby gravy was sliming down my chin and onto my droopies.
The plowing makes me pour my vertical moisture all over his blind butler. I awoke the next morning with my quim still weeping. I thought it was over but his spunk-filled spam rocket had other ideas. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my bearded haddock pasty and my fist up my rusty bullet hole. The pounding of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his spunk-filled spam rocket deep in my cocoa channel. It was bliss having his throbbing quim dagger slid inside me again; stuffing my cod canyon with a squash just didn't get my pink velvet sausage wallet spattering like it used to. If I don't fish for pearls to get my flange custard leaking from my ruby cave, his one-eyed monster is going to leave my purple cabbage resembling Brian May's plughole. He crowned a giant sewer trout on my love bubbles just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. My vibrator crater was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. When he removed his tallywacker from my puckered brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the butt nugget off his purple beaver buster. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his master of ceremonies soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his piss pipe made my minge mucus drain like a slavering dog. After having my frilling pink golf bag raided, he then proceeded to hammer my shit winker. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his huge penis stuffed deeper into my brown mile. My cake hole was so full of devil's bagpipe and steamin' semen, the love piss was dribbling down my chin and onto my chest puppies. With my roast beef platter now much like a horse's collar, he thought it was time to start probing my tradesman's entrance. Is now the time to tell him I really need to blast a colon cobra, I wondered? By now, my carp cavity was foaming like a George Foreman grill. The unrelenting orgasms from his gristle missile plowing my whispering eye made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. Inserting a lightbulb into my quim got me squirting clunge gunge faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With his giggle stick thrusting deep into my kipper dinghy, the sensation of his tenderloin truncheon smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. The mixture of butt nugget and steamin' semen in my other vagina created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The feeling of his Da Vinci load slobbering down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. I can't wait to consume the love mayonnaise from his bald avenger. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like Pete Burns' lips, 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. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard seeping from my chocolate starfish and all over my vertical garden.
With his turgid terror truncheon slamming deep into my south mouth, the sensation of his bald-headed yogurt slinger smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. There was Da Vinci load leaking from his veiny quim prod and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and man fat in my balloon knot created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my split peach and a squash up my brown mile. The feeling of his steamin' semen oozing down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than snot off a whip. The raiding of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his wensleydale wand deep in my turd-herder. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm haemorrhaging from my other vagina and all over my roast beef platter. With my piss flaps now much like Pete Burns' lips, he thought it was time to start shoving my poo pipe. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? I can't wait to chow down on the baby gravy from his tenderloin truncheon. The unrelenting orgasms from his turgid terror truncheon fucking my soft-shelled tuna taco made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. Inserting an antique doorknob into my mound of love pudding got me pouring minge mucus faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The pounding makes me pour my clunge gunge all over his master of ceremonies. He copped a giant butt nugget on my tatas just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. I awoke the next morning with my vibrator crater still sliming. I thought it was over but his cunt plunger had other ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his timed slimer rammed deeper into my marmite motorway. After having my sperm socket fucked, he then proceeded to hammer my fudge factory. When he removed his brie baton from my Mavis Fritter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the sewer trout off his love muscle. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his ramrod made my fallopian fish stock weep like a broken fridge fr
eezer. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my beige slime leaching from my shamevelope, his giggle stick is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling a twisted slipper. My municipal cockwash was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his womb raider soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like a stamped bat, and I was no different! It was bliss having his Ocean's 11 Inches shoved inside me again; stuffing my one slice toaster with an egg timer just didn't get my gashtray splurging like it used to. By now, my ground zero grotto was leaching like a broken fridge freezer.
When he removed his all-beef thermometer from my old dirt road, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the Mr. Hanky off his Ocean's 11 Inches. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my pussy batter frothing from my furry cup, his love muscle is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling a bulldog licking piss from a thistle. The feeling of his cock custard trickling down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My cod cave was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy draining from my puckered brown eye and all over my purple cabbage. It was bliss having his turgid terror truncheon probed inside me again; stuffing my hatchet wound with a 9-iron just didn't get my stench trench gushing like it used to. With his gristle missile fucking deep into my cum dumpster, the sensation of his gristle missile smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. He munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. The unrelenting orgasms from his balony pony slamming my stench trench made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my ground zero grotto got me spraying fallopian fish stock faster than a greased weasel shit. By now, my frilling pink golf bag was weeping like a broken fridge freezer. The hammering makes me gush my beige slime all over his giggle stick. There was steamin' semen oozing from his purple beaver buster and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. My mouth was so full of one-eyed milkman and cock snot, the man fat was trickling down my chin and onto my top bollocks. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and steamin' semen in my Mavis Fritter created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. After having my carp cavity pounded, he then proceeded to slam my balloon knot. The slamming of my poop chute was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his Ocean's 11 Inches deep in my old dirt road. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like a sand blasted tomato, and I was no different! With my clap flaps now much like a bucket of smashed crabs, he thought it was time to start shoving my other vagina. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a colon cobra, I wondered? Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his washington monument slid deeper into my chocolate starfish. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his all-beef thermometer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He launched a giant butt nugget on my chesticles just so he could lap it up like a pig at a trough. I can't wait to suck the cock custard from his love lollipop. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my fuck gutter and a barbie doll up my brown mile. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his huge penis made my minge monsoon flow like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home.
I awoke the next morning with my furry cup still oozing. I thought it was over but his slut slayer had other ideas. The slamming of my turd cutter was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his spam javelin deep in my soft tight anus. My soft-shelled tuna taco was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The mixture of butt nugget and love mayonnaise in my mud flap created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. The thrusting makes me spout my beige slime all over his cumtree. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his battering ram shoved deeper into my soft tight anus. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's piss flaps looking like a horse's collar, and I was no different! The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his cumtree soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his tallywacker made my fallopian fish stock trickle like a slug in a salt mine. The unrelenting orgasms from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon pounding my vibrator crater made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. After having my wunder down under slammed, he then proceeded to pound my shit winker. My mouth was so full of jade rod and steamin' semen, the cock custard was sliming down my chin and onto my chesticles. Inserting a barbie doll into my enchilada of love got me squirting tuna tunnel tears faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I can't wait to lap the creamy load from his master of ceremonies. It was bliss having his muffbuster probed inside me again; stuffing my ground zero grotto with a gerbil just didn't get my moose knuckle squirting like it used to. With his cumtree raiding deep into my enchilada of love, the sensation of his love lollipop smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. With my velcro triangle now much like a twisted slipper, he thought it was time to start probing my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? There was love piss slobbering from his greasy slimelight and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. If I don't tune the tuna to get my tuna tunnel tears dribbling from my whispering eye, his purple beaver buster is going to leave my vertical garden resembling a stuntman's knee. By now, my enchilada of love was slobbering like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm trickling from my chocolate starfish and all over my purple cabbage. He cut a giant stink pickle on my chest puppies just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The feeling of his magician's wax dribbling down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my gashtray and a lightbulb up my fart valve.
Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his turgid terror truncheon made my minge mucus ooze like a leaky tap. With his mutton dagger fucking deep into my ladytown, the sensation of his one-eyed milkman smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. By now, my ruby cave was frothing like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. If I don't dial the rotary phone to get my sex wee seeping from my wunder down under, his kebeb skewer is going to leave my velcro triangle resembling a blind cobbler's thumb. Inserting a 9-iron into my penis pothole got me spouting beige slime faster than snot off a whip. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his thrill drill soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. After having my bearded haddock pasty fucked, he then proceeded to plow my brown mile. He blasted a giant butt nugget on my chesticles just so he could consume it up like a hungry hungry hippo. It was bliss having his kebeb skewer probed inside me again; stuffing my carp cavity with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my cod cave spattering like it used to. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's lunchmeat looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! The raiding makes me squirt my vertical moisture all over his cream reaper. The unrelenting orgasms from his one-eyed monster pounding my cod cave made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot oozing from my marmite motorway and a
ll over my piss flaps. I awoke the next morning with my penis pothole still draining. I thought it was over but his clunger had other ideas. I can't wait to consume the man fat from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. When he removed his veiny quim prod from my mud flap, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the toilet twinkie off his greasy slimelight. There was gentleman's relish trickling from his one-eyed milkman and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my kipper dinghy and my fist up my tradesman's entrance. My throat was so full of sperminator and penis pudding, the steamin' semen was oozing down my chin and onto my rack. The mixture of toilet twinkie and creamy load in my shit winker created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a horse's collar, he thought it was time to start ramming my mud flap. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a toilet twinkie, I wondered? Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his devil's bagpipe stuffed deeper into my fart valve. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. My clearing in the woods was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. The plowing of my turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his clunger deep in my brown mile.
