The Dream's Thorn

by Amy Woods

  He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. It was bliss having his cervix cigar probed inside me again; stuffing my sperm socket with a number of chillies just didn't get my enchilada of love gushing like it used to. 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 cod cave and a gerbil up my poo pipe. He pitched a giant sewer trout on my love bubbles just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his greasy slimelight soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My vibrator crater was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. By now, my gashtray was slobbering like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. The slamming of my tradesman's entrance was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining his giggle stick deep in my shit winker. The plowing makes me flood my minge monsoon all over his tallywacker. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm frothing from my balloon knot and all over my meaty hangers. My mouth was so full of spam javelin and cock custard, the love mayonnaise was dripping down my chin and onto my rack. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cumtree slid deeper into my tradesman's entrance. After having my quim pounded, he then proceeded to thrust my rusty sherif's badge. With my roast beef platter now much like a clown's pocket, he thought it was time to start stuffing my shit winker. Is now the time to tell him I really need to blast a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his gristle missile made my sex wee dribble like a slavering dog. Inserting a squash into my kipper dinghy got me splurging minge monsoon faster than snot off a whip. The unrelenting orgasms from his spunk-filled spam rocket plowing my herring hole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. I awoke the next morning with my cock holster still dripping. I thought it was over but his jade rod had other ideas. The feeling of his gentleman's relish sliming down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. When he removed his purple beaver buster from my fart valve, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the butt nugget off his timed slimer. With his cunt plunger fucking deep into my split peach, the sensation of his kebeb skewer smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and creamy load in my shit winker created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. If I don't fish for pearls to get my minge monsoon oozing from my clearing in the woods, his turgid terror truncheon is going to leave my vertical smile resembling the Japanese flag. I can't wait to devour the cock snot from his master of ceremonies. There was magician's wax dribbling from his gristle missile and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more.

  The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his long-dong silver soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. 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 clunge pool and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my Mavis Fritter. With his bugger king slamming deep into my municipal cockwash, the sensation of his cunt stretcher smashing my cervix made me quake like a shitting dog. With my roast beef platter now much like a hippo's yawn, he thought it was time to start probing my rusty bullet hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a stink pickle, I wondered? The feeling of his man fat leaching down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. If I don't play the clitar to get my minge mucus seeping from my mound of love pudding, his turgid terror truncheon is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling the south end of a badger going north. After having my shamevelope fucked, he then proceeded to plow my balloon knot. I awoke the next morning with my municipal cockwash still seeping. I thought it was over but his cumtree had other ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his skeleton king stuffed deeper into my soft tight anus. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. He blasted a giant sewer trout on my chesticles just so he could consume it up like a hungry hungry hippo. By now, my chamber of squelch was trickling like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. I can't wait to suck the man fat from his master of ceremonies. Inserting a barbie doll into my front bum got me spritzing flange custard faster than a greased weasel shit. When he removed his tenderloin truncheon from my puckered brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the corn-eyed butt snake off his disco stick. The hammering of my Oxo orifice was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his muffbuster deep in my chocolate starfish. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and ectoplasm in my vintage golf bag created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load foaming from my brown mile and all over my purple cabbage. My throat was so full of greasy kebab skewer and penis pudding, the creamy load was dribbling down my chin and onto my top bollocks. My vibration station was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his veiny quim prod made my beige slime weep like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. The unrelenting orgasms from his bald avenger thrusting my wizards sleeve made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. The plowing makes me squirt my pussy batter all over his skin flute. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's flappy meal looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! There was man fat foaming from his one-eyed monster and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more.

  The slamming makes me flood my minge monsoon all over his blue-veined custard chucker. The mixture of stink pickle and gentleman's relish in my turd-herder created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. By now, my cock holster was dribbling like a hungry pig at a trough. The hammering of my rusty bullet hole was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his skin flute deep in my ring piece. My throat was so full of cream reaper and baby gravy, the cock snot was draining down my chin and onto my top bollocks. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his one-eyed monster made my vertical moisture ooze like a jizz waterfall. Inserting my fist into my mound of love pudding got me spattering pussy batter faster than a greased weasel shit. He arced a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my superdroopers just so he could chow down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. My furry cup was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. I awoke the next morning with my herring hole still dripping. I thought it was over but his stilton spear had other ideas. There was man fat dripping from his ample cock and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. After having my carp cavity pounded, he then proceeded to slam my poop chute. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his spam javelin rammed deeper into my brown mile. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like a gutted trout, and I was no different! When he removed his mutton dagger from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the toilet twinkie off his thrill drill. It was bliss having his love lollipop probed inside me again; stuffing my gammon alley with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my split peach spraying like it used to. Some girls are happy just to play the clitar when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my wunder down under and a number of chillies up my fart valve. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot sliming from my turd cutter and all over my fishy flaps. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my flange custard frothing from my hot pocket, his cunt stretcher is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling a gutted trout.
I can't wait to lap the love mayonnaise from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. The unrelenting orgasms from his jade rod thrusting my ruby cave made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. With my furburger now much like a motorway pileup, he thought it was time to start ramming my balloon knot. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a stink pickle, I wondered? The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his balony pony soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his jade rod fucking deep into my slime hole, the sensation of his skeleton king smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid.

  I can't wait to chow down on the penis pudding from his thrill drill. The fucking of my tradesman's entrance was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his turgid terror truncheon deep in my cocoa channel. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's flappy meal looking like a manatee in yoga pants, and I was no different! After having my tampon tunnel raided, he then proceeded to hammer my soft tight anus. My soft-shelled tuna taco was trembling like a shitting dog. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my cum dumpster got me surging sex wee faster than a greased weasel shit. By now, my one slice toaster was draining like a broken fridge freezer. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax draining from my tradesman's entrance and all over my meaty hangers. There was steamin' semen weeping from his spunk-filled spam rocket and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. With my clap flaps now much like a stuntman's knee, he thought it was time to start ramming my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a toilet twinkie, I wondered? With his cheese-crusted cock pounding deep into my gammon alley, the sensation of his wrist-thick wand smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his meaty member probed deeper into my turd cutter. The unrelenting orgasms from his all-beef thermometer hammering my split peach made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. The plowing makes me splurge my vertical moisture all over his bald avenger. When he removed his chubstep from my puckered brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the toilet twinkie off his vein cane. My cake hole was so full of womb raider and love piss, the penis pudding was haemorrhaging down my chin and onto my sweater puppies. Some girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my sperm socket and an egg timer up my fudge factory. If I don't flick the bean to get my minge monsoon draining from my salmon slit, his giggle stick is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling a gutted trout. He munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. I awoke the next morning with my ladytown still seeping. I thought it was over but his tallywacker had other ideas. He rolled a giant hardened fudge nugget on my love bubbles just so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. It was bliss having his meaty member shoved inside me again; stuffing my hot pocket with my fist just didn't get my mound of love pudding ejecting like it used to. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his cheese-crusted cock soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The feeling of his cock custard foaming down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his jade rod made my shrimp sap slime like a broken coffee maker.

  My carp cavity was trembling like a rat on acid. I can't wait to devour the love mayonnaise from his spam dagger. He eased out a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my chesticles just so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough. The unrelenting orgasms from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon pounding my penis pothole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. The raiding of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his battering ram deep in my brown mile. He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his tenderloin truncheon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. There was penis pudding leaching from his jebend and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. With his cheese-crusted cock thrusting deep into my enchilada of love, the sensation of his balony pony smashing my cervix made me quiver like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. With my roast beef platter now much like a blind cobbler's thumb, he thought it was time to start ramming my brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a colon cobra, I wondered? It was bliss having his thrill drill stuffed inside me again; stuffing my penis pothole with a barbie doll just didn't get my salmon slit flooding like it used to. My mouth was so full of cunt stretcher and love mayonnaise, the penis pudding was draining down my chin and onto my twin peaks. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my sex wee slobbering from my wizards sleeve, his bald avenger is going to leave my meaty hangers resembling a dropped burrito. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his bald avenger rammed deeper into my rusty bullet hole. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax oozing from my poop chute and all over my flappy meal. The slamming makes me spritz my spaff all over his brie baton. When he removed his tenderloin truncheon 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 stink pickle off his gristle missile. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my ladytown and a gerbil up my poop chute. Inserting my fist into my wizards sleeve got me pouring spaff faster than a greased weasel shit. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his thrill drill made my sex wee haemorrhage like a broken fridge freezer. I awoke the next morning with my bearded haddock pasty still dribbling. I thought it was over but his thrill drill had other ideas. By now, my herring hole was frothing like a broken fridge freezer. After having my shamevelope plowed, he then proceeded to hammer my poop chute. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like a bulldog in a windtunnel, and I was no different! The feeling of his man fat oozing down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit.

  Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his washington monument shoved deeper into my soft tight anus. It was bliss having his stilton spear rammed inside me again; stuffing my sperm socket with an egg timer just didn't get my frilling pink golf bag spraying like it used to. Inserting a barbie doll into my clearing in the woods got me spraying minge monsoon faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like a sand blasted tomato, and I was no different! There was creamy load slobbering from his muffbuster and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. After having my hot pocket fucked, he then proceeded to hammer my brown eye. The fucking makes me spout my minge monsoon all over his Nelson's Column. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his one-eyed milkman soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a lightbulb in my stench trench and my fist up my rusty bullet hole. I awoke the next morning with my cock holster still slobbering. I thought it was over but his bald-headed yogurt slinger had other ideas. By now, my kipper dinghy was slobbering like a slavering dog. The feeling of his creamy load draining down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. When he removed his piss pipe from my fart valve, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the butt nugget off his veiny quim prod. The fucking of my puckered brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found hi
s sperm factories joining his cream reaper deep in my turd-herder. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my shrimp sap trickling from my tampon tunnel, his cumtree is going to leave my flappy meal resembling a badly wrapped kebab. My mound of love pudding was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. I can't wait to consume the love mayonnaise from his purple beaver buster. With my furburger now much like a bulldog licking piss from a thistle, he thought it was time to start plunging my vintage golf bag. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a butt nugget, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax weeping from my ring piece and all over my roast beef platter. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. My throat was so full of flesh gordon and creamy load, the gentleman's relish was trickling down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his cervix cigar made my pussy batter weep like a George Foreman grill. With his sperminator raiding deep into my wizards sleeve, the sensation of his purple-headed trouser snake smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The unrelenting orgasms from his batter blaster pounding my enchilada of love made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. He arced a giant footlong fudge bullet on my mosquito bites just so he could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo.