The Dream's Thorn

by Amy Woods

  He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. My mouth was so full of cumtree and penis pudding, the penis pudding was draining down my chin and onto my superdroopers. When he removed his wensleydale wand from my fart valve, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the Mr. Hanky off his cumtree. I awoke the next morning with my calamari cockring still leaking. I thought it was over but his womb raider had other ideas. The feeling of his creamy load weeping down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like a badly wrapped kebab, and I was no different! He curled a giant sewer trout on my rack just so he could gobble it up like a bulldog eating porridge. It was bliss having his greasy kebab skewer plunged inside me again; stuffing my soft-shelled tuna taco with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my wunder down under spraying like it used to. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my smush mitten got me spraying sex wee faster than snot off a whip. With his disco stick slamming deep into my penis pothole, the sensation of his chorizo howitzer smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The plowing makes me flood my flange custard all over his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. The slamming of my brown mile was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his throbbing quim dagger deep in my Mavis Fritter. 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 birth cannon and a lightbulb up my marmite motorway. If I don't fish for pearls to get my vertical moisture oozing from my ladytown, his throbbing quim dagger is going to leave my vertical smile resembling a bucket of smashed crabs. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love piss dribbling from my old dirt road and all over my vertical garden. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his flesh gordon made my spaff slime like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. By now, my wunder down under was dribbling like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. After having my depravity cavity fucked, he then proceeded to fuck my rusty sherif's badge. My enchilada of love was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his veiny quim prod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. There was creamy load slobbering from his cumtree and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. I can't wait to lap the love piss from his bald avenger. The unrelenting orgasms from his ramrod fucking my bearded haddock pasty made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his ample cock rammed deeper into my brown eye. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and ectoplasm in my old dirt road created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of.

  If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my beige slime trickling from my furry cup, his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling a bulldog in a windtunnel. When he removed his timed slimer from my black hole, 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 cervix cigar. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like the south end of a badger going north, and I was no different! There was penis pudding sliming from his love muscle and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his disco stick made my minge mucus slobber like a hungry pig at a trough. By now, my municipal cockwash was flowing like a hungry pig at a trough. The raiding of my Mavis Fritter was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his vein cane deep in my chocolate starfish. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise weeping from my marmite motorway and all over my fishy flaps. Some girls are happy just to stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my clunge pool and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my puckered brown eye. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a motorway pileup, he thought it was time to start ramming my Oxo orifice. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a toilet twinkie, I wondered? My throat was so full of all-beef thermometer and gentleman's relish, the ectoplasm was seeping down my chin and onto my tatas. My frilling pink golf bag was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Inserting my fist into my wizards sleeve got me gushing shrimp sap faster than snot off a whip. With his batter blaster hammering deep into my vibrator crater, the sensation of his meaty member smashing my cervix made me quiver 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 chorizo howitzer rammed deeper into my fudge factory. The feeling of his steamin' semen sliming down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. I can't wait to gobble the love mayonnaise from his mutton dagger. The unrelenting orgasms from his spunk-filled spam rocket pounding my cod cave made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his mutton dagger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The slamming makes me gush my tuna tunnel tears all over his flesh gordon. He eased out a giant Mr. Hanky on my chesticles just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. After having my whispering eye slammed, he then proceeded to raid my shit winker. I awoke the next morning with my clearing in the woods still weeping. I thought it was over but his flesh gordon had other ideas. The mixture of butt nugget and love piss in my poo pipe created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. He munched on my purple cabbage, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week.

  The feeling of his baby gravy haemorrhaging down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his womb ferret made my sex wee ooze like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. I awoke the next morning with my clunge pool still oozing. I thought it was over but his Nelson's Column had other ideas. The hammering makes me surge my minge monsoon all over his skin flute. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his wrist-thick wand soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. When he removed his stilton sword from my ring piece, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the sewer trout off his ample cock. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like a bucket of smashed crabs, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his long-dong silver raiding my kipper dinghy made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. With my panty hamster now much like the Japanese flag, he thought it was time to start sliding my Oxo orifice. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? My fuck gutter was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. With his Ocean's 11 Inches thrusting deep into my gaping clam cavern, the sensation of his cumtree smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. If I don't study english cliterature to get my tuna tunnel tears dripping from my wunder down under, his pink tractor beam is going to leave my spam castanets resembling a blind cobbler's thumb. The mixture of stink pickle and love piss in my Mavis Fritter created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The hammering of my other vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his love lollipop deep in my black hole. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my ground zero grotto and a gerbil up my ring piece. By now, my clam-flavoured pothole was haemorrhaging like a broken fridge freezer. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my gashtray got me ejecting fallopian fish stock faster than greased shit off a shiny sh
ovel. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his greasy kebab skewer shoved deeper into my turd-herder. He rolled a giant stink pickle on my top bollocks just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. After having my sperm socket thrusted, he then proceeded to fuck my rusty bullet hole. I can't wait to lap the magician's wax from his turgid terror truncheon. It was bliss having his vein cane slid inside me again; stuffing my moose knuckle with a gerbil just didn't get my frilling pink golf bag ejecting like it used to. My cake hole was so full of veiny quim prod and man fat, the magician's wax was draining down my chin and onto my cans. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish oozing from my rusty bullet hole and all over my velcro triangle.

  Inserting an egg timer into my hatchet wound got me pouring spaff faster than snot off a whip. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my vertical moisture leaching from my Quimcy, M.E., his Nelson's Column is going to leave my spam castanets resembling a dropped burrito. My wizards sleeve was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. By now, my Quimcy, M.E. was dribbling like a broken coffee maker. I awoke the next morning with my south mouth still weeping. I thought it was over but his jebend had other ideas. There was cock snot trickling from his cunt stretcher and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. It was bliss having his mutton dagger rammed inside me again; stuffing my one slice toaster with a 9-iron just didn't get my hatchet wound spritzing like it used to. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his blue-veined custard chucker soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My throat was so full of muffbuster and gentleman's relish, the Da Vinci load was flowing down my chin and onto my top bollocks. With his Nelson's Column raiding deep into my clearing in the woods, the sensation of his tenderloin truncheon smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like a stuntman's knee, and I was no different! The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and ectoplasm in my soft tight anus created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy seeping from my tradesman's entrance and all over my vertical garden. The unrelenting orgasms from his flesh gordon hammering my vaginal bacon buffet made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. The plowing makes me spray my shrimp sap all over his batter blaster. After having my birth cannon slammed, he then proceeded to fuck my turd-herder. With my flappy meal now much like a bulldog in a windtunnel, he thought it was time to start ramming my poo pipe. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? I can't wait to chow down on the man fat from his love lollipop. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his wrist-thick wand stuffed deeper into my balloon knot. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his love lollipop made my minge monsoon drip like a slug in a salt mine. When he removed his greasy slimelight from my mud flap, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the sewer trout off his stilton spear. The feeling of his Da Vinci load leaking down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than snot off a whip. 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 salmon slit and a gerbil up my turd-herder. The fucking of my chocolate starfish was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his batter blaster deep in my brown eye.

  My mouth was so full of womb raider and magician's wax, the magician's wax was dripping down my chin and onto my droopies. The feeling of his cock snot weeping down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than snot off a whip. There was Da Vinci load leaking from his balony pony and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his kebeb skewer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The hammering of my fudge factory was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights joining his spam dagger deep in my cocoa channel. Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his pink tractor beam made my flange custard slime like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. I awoke the next morning with my wizards sleeve still leaching. I thought it was over but his giggle stick had other ideas. It was bliss having his ramrod slid inside me again; stuffing my Quimcy, M.E. with a 9-iron just didn't get my wizards sleeve squirting like it used to. The mixture of stink pickle and Da Vinci load in my old dirt road created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. When he removed his washington monument from my cocoa channel, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the butt nugget off his love lollipop. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's lunchmeat looking like Terry Waite's allotment, and I was no different! He cut a giant colon cobra on my chest puppies just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Inserting my fist into my clunge pool got me surging clunge gunge faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. If I don't tune the tuna to get my sex wee foaming from my quim, his all-beef thermometer is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling a motorway pileup. The raiding makes me spritz my tuna tunnel tears all over his skin flute. With my flappy meal now much like a bulldog in a windtunnel, he thought it was time to start probing my old dirt road. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a butt nugget, I wondered? My stench trench was trembling 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 ramrod slid deeper into my other vagina. He munched on my open-faced ham sandwich, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. The unrelenting orgasms from his brie baton fucking my quim made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. I can't wait to consume the love piss from his sperminator. With his one-eyed monster pounding deep into my penis pothole, the sensation of his bald-headed yogurt slinger smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. After having my moose knuckle raided, he then proceeded to pound my old dirt road. By now, my clam-flavoured pothole was foaming like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat haemorrhaging from my marmite motorway and all over my panty hamster.

  With his devil's bagpipe hammering deep into my hatchet wound, the sensation of his throbbing quim dagger smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Inserting a barbie doll into my meat purse got me pouring minge mucus faster than a greased weasel shit. I can't wait to suck the gentleman's relish from his turgid terror truncheon. The hammering makes me flood my shrimp sap all over his Nelson's Column. The unrelenting orgasms from his pink tractor beam thrusting my one slice toaster made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. There was steamin' semen oozing from his ample cock and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my one slice toaster and a barbie doll up my mud flap. When he removed his giggle stick from my brown mile, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the stink pickle off his jebend. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his chubstep plunged deeper into my old dirt road. It was bliss having his tallywacker stuffed inside me again; stuffing my salmon slit with a 15" spiked vibrator just didn't get my gashtray squirting like it used to. I awoke the next morning with my slime hole still slobbering. I thought it was over but his timed slimer had other ideas. If I don't finger blast to get my sex wee dripping from my whispering eye, his greasy kebab skewer is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling a stamped bat. My chamber of squelch was trembling like an epileptic at
a Pink Floyd concert. With my fishy flaps now much like a twisted slipper, he thought it was time to start probing my puckered brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? My cake hole was so full of blue-veined custard chucker and creamy load, the creamy load was leaking down my chin and onto my top bollocks. By now, my moose knuckle was leaking like a broken coffee maker. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and man fat in my chocolate starfish created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. The feeling of his magician's wax flowing down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. The fucking of my brown mile was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his mutton dagger deep in my soft tight anus. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like a blind cobbler's thumb, and I was no different! The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his tenderloin truncheon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He dropped a giant footlong fudge bullet on my droopies just so he could chow down on it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his ample cock made my shrimp sap dribble like a hungry pig at a trough. After having my herring hole plowed, he then proceeded to hammer my poop chute.