by Amy Woods
Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his blind butler probed deeper into my Oxo orifice. With my vertical garden now much like a stamped bat, he thought it was time to start probing my puckered brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a stink pickle, I wondered? I awoke the next morning with my vibration station still frothing. I thought it was over but his batter blaster had other ideas. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his chorizo howitzer made my minge monsoon weep like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. My quim was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. If I don't tune the tuna to get my flange custard dripping from my ruby cave, his cunt stretcher is going to leave my lunchmeat resembling an over inflated dinghy. The mixture of butt nugget and gentleman's relish in my cocoa channel created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like a gutted trout, and I was no different! Inserting a lightbulb into my shamevelope got me spritzing shrimp sap faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The feeling of his magician's wax leaching down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. I can't wait to suck the ectoplasm from his ample cock. The slamming makes me spout my minge mucus all over his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. He pitched a giant butt nugget on my chest puppies just so he could chow down on it up like a bulldog eating porridge. There was steamin' semen dripping from his ramrod and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax flowing from my tradesman's entrance and all over my flappy meal. The unrelenting orgasms from his kebeb skewer raiding my furry cup made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. When he removed his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus from my ring piece, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the colon cobra off his stilton sword. My cake hole was so full of veiny quim prod and ectoplasm, the gentleman's relish was frothing down my chin and onto my chesticles. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. After having my calamari cockring thrusted, he then proceeded to pound my chocolate starfish. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his love lollipop soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his brie baton plowing deep into my Quimcy, M.E., the sensation of his skeleton king smashing my cervix made me quake like a shitting dog. The hammering of my soft tight anus was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his Ocean's 11 Inches deep in my soft tight anus. It was bliss having his skeleton king shoved inside me again; stuffing my vaginal bacon buffet with a barbie doll just didn't get my split peach spattering like it used to. 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 frilling pink golf bag and a squash up my cocoa channel.
By now, my tuna canal was seeping like a broken coffee maker. Inserting an antique doorknob into my vibration station got me flooding tuna tunnel tears faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. When he removed his jade rod from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the sewer trout off his cumtree. It was bliss having his vein cane shoved inside me again; stuffing my pink velvet sausage wallet with my fist just didn't get my frilling pink golf bag spouting like it used to. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like a horse's collar, and I was no different! The mixture of Mr. Hanky and man fat in my poop chute created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. My depravity cavity was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his chubstep soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to lap the love piss from his greasy slimelight. The slamming of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his battering ram deep in my poo pipe. My mouth was so full of womb ferret and cock custard, the man fat was dribbling down my chin and onto my droopies. He dropped a giant hardened fudge nugget on my droopies just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. There was love mayonnaise flowing from his long-dong silver and I was wetter than an English summer. We were ready for more. The raiding makes me splurge my sex wee all over his ramrod. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his master of ceremonies shoved deeper into my other vagina. He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. The unrelenting orgasms from his cervix cigar thrusting my bearded haddock pasty made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. With my furburger now much like a sand blasted tomato, he thought it was time to start ramming my marmite motorway. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? The feeling of his ectoplasm leaching down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than snot off a whip. If I don't strum the banjo to get my minge mucus frothing from my stench trench, his one-eyed milkman is going to leave my vertical smile resembling a horse's collar. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding leaking from my cocoa channel and all over my furburger. I awoke the next morning with my vaginal bacon buffet still sliming. I thought it was over but his Nelson's Column had other ideas. After having my wunder down under fucked, he then proceeded to slam my brown mile. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my soft-shelled tuna taco and my fist up my cocoa channel. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his spunk-filled spam rocket made my beige slime seep like a rabid dog.
Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's open-faced ham sandwich looking like a ripped out fireplace, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his meaty member fucking my cum dumpster made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. The mixture of butt nugget and man fat in my ring piece created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. The plowing makes me surge my minge monsoon all over his disco stick. I can't wait to chow down on the penis pudding from his womb ferret. My mouth was so full of tenderloin truncheon and gentleman's relish, the Da Vinci load was weeping down my chin and onto my tatas. He crowned a giant sewer trout on my chesticles just so he could gobble it up like a bulldog eating porridge. There was gentleman's relish draining from his cumtree and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. With my beef curtains now much like a manatee in yoga pants, he thought it was time to start shoving my Oxo orifice. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? The slamming of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon deep in my rusty bullet hole. He munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. With his veiny quim prod pounding deep into my meat purse, the sensation of his wrist-thick wand smashing my cervix made me quake like a shitting dog. By now, my wunder down under was oozing like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his stilton spear rammed deeper into my old dirt road. After having my cod cave fucked, he then proceeded to raid my fart valve. My cock holster was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Inserting a lightbulb into my cock holster got me spattering spaff faster than snot off a whip. The feeling of his ectoplasm frothing down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. When he removed his spunk-filled spam rocket from my rusty bullet hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the Mr. Hanky off his tallywacker. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his wrist-thick wand soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Within no time, I could feel the shitty gentleman's relish dribbling f
rom my turd-herder and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. I awoke the next morning with my salmon slit still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his pink tractor beam had other ideas. It was bliss having his veiny quim prod stuffed inside me again; stuffing my cum dumpster with a lightbulb just didn't get my tampon tunnel flooding like it used to. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having my fist in my shamevelope and a 15" spiked vibrator up my fart valve. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my vertical moisture leaching from my vibrator crater, his vein cane is going to leave my velcro triangle resembling a manatee in yoga pants.
Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his ramrod made my shrimp sap drip like a jizz waterfall. My herring hole was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his spam javelin soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. After having my meat purse plowed, he then proceeded to slam my rusty bullet hole. If I don't strum the banjo to get my shrimp sap frothing from my spunk dungeon, his mutton dagger is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling a bucket of smashed crabs. With my vertical garden now much like a twisted slipper, he thought it was time to start probing my ring piece. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a stink pickle, I wondered? There was Da Vinci load foaming from his cheese-crusted cock and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. The slamming of my vintage golf bag was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus deep in my poo pipe. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat oozing from my fudge factory and all over my fishy flaps. He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. 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 hot pocket and a squash up my fudge factory. I awoke the next morning with my carp cavity still flowing. I thought it was over but his disco stick had other ideas. By now, my smush mitten was weeping like a slavering dog. When he removed his chubstep from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the sewer trout off his cream reaper. The feeling of his creamy load weeping down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than snot off a whip. I can't wait to suck the love mayonnaise from his stilton spear. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his veiny quim prod slid deeper into my brown mile. With his cunt stretcher pounding deep into my shame portal, the sensation of his womb ferret smashing my cervix made me quake like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The unrelenting orgasms from his giggle stick raiding my enchilada of love made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. My cake hole was so full of mutton dagger and steamin' semen, the cock custard was foaming down my chin and onto my cans. Inserting a 9-iron into my hot pocket got me gushing minge monsoon faster than a greased weasel shit. He crowned a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my tatas just so he could lap it up like a pig at a trough. It was bliss having his battering ram stuffed inside me again; stuffing my vibrator crater with a barbie doll just didn't get my quim spouting like it used to. The mixture of butt nugget and love piss in my Oxo orifice created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The pounding makes me eject my minge mucus all over his one-eyed monster.
Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard flowing from my old dirt road and all over my roast beef platter. After having my ground zero grotto thrusted, he then proceeded to thrust my rusty bullet hole. If I don't play the clitar to get my minge mucus leaking from my kipper dinghy, his vein cane is going to leave my piss flaps resembling a rabid baboon's arse. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his thrill drill rammed deeper into my fudge factory. By now, my clunge pool was seeping like a hungry pig at a trough. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his cheese-crusted cock made my clunge gunge leach like a leaky tap. Inserting an egg timer into my moose knuckle got me spraying vertical moisture faster than a greased weasel shit. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my soft-shelled tuna taco and a lightbulb up my rusty sherif's badge. He crowned a giant hardened fudge nugget on my tatas just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and magician's wax in my rusty sherif's badge created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. The unrelenting orgasms from his wensleydale wand fucking my soft-shelled tuna taco made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. There was penis pudding draining from his muffbuster and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his tenderloin truncheon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to lap the cock snot from his muffbuster. With my roast beef platter now much like a shot cat, he thought it was time to start probing my rusty sherif's badge. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a toilet twinkie, I wondered? Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like the Japanese flag, and I was no different! He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. The feeling of his magician's wax leaking down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With his tenderloin truncheon thrusting deep into my ruby cave, the sensation of his gristle missile smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. My cake hole was so full of muffbuster and cock custard, the love mayonnaise was flowing down my chin and onto my twin peaks. My gammon alley was trembling like jelly. The hammering makes me eject my tuna tunnel tears all over his jebend. It was bliss having his piss pipe slid inside me again; stuffing my cod cave with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my one slice toaster pouring like it used to. I awoke the next morning with my enchilada of love still sliming. I thought it was over but his purple-headed trouser snake had other ideas. When he removed his wensleydale wand from my black hole, 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 timed slimer.
By now, my spunk dungeon was dribbling like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. Some girls are happy just to get a stinky pinky when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my tampon tunnel and a 9-iron up my old dirt road. My throat was so full of thrill drill and creamy load, the creamy load was frothing down my chin and onto my droopies. With his kebeb skewer fucking deep into my chamber of squelch, the sensation of his clunger smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. Inserting a number of chillies into my depravity cavity got me pouring minge monsoon faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. My fuck gutter was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. The raiding of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his giggle stick deep in my vintage golf bag. If I don't finger blast to get my vertical moisture slobbering from my gashtray, his purple-headed trouser snake is going to leave my panty hamster resembling Brian May's plughole. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cunt plunger shoved deeper into my other vagina. When he removed his love muscle from my balloon knot, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the butt nugget off his long-dong silver. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his giggle stick soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The feeling of his steamin' semen weeping down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's open-faced ham sandwich looking like a darts team's goalkeeper, and I was no different! I can't wait to devour the love mayonnaise from his ample cock. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will acc
ept my spit, but the sight of his cumtree made my fallopian fish stock trickle like a broken fridge freezer. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and man fat in my poo pipe created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. He curled a giant hardened fudge nugget on my fiery biscuits just so he could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The fucking makes me gush my minge monsoon all over his turgid terror truncheon. He munched on my flappy meal, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. The unrelenting orgasms from his mutton dagger hammering my clunge pool made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. I awoke the next morning with my tampon tunnel still frothing. I thought it was over but his wensleydale wand had other ideas. With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a twisted slipper, he thought it was time to start shoving my mud flap. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a toilet twinkie, I wondered? It was bliss having his cheese-crusted cock stuffed inside me again; stuffing my vaginal bacon buffet with a squash just didn't get my sperm socket spritzing like it used to. There was ectoplasm frothing from his batter blaster and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. After having my cod crater hammered, he then proceeded to raid my turd-herder.
The feeling of his man fat frothing down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than snot off a whip. It was bliss having his love lollipop shoved inside me again; stuffing my municipal cockwash with a squash just didn't get my enchilada of love gushing like it used to. The unrelenting orgasms from his ample cock thrusting my one slice toaster made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. I can't wait to consume the magician's wax from his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus. With my clap flaps now much like a rabid baboon's arse, he thought it was time to start shoving my turd cutter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a stink pickle, I wondered? My cock holster was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. After having my one slice toaster pounded, he then proceeded to fuck my brown eye. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his devil's bagpipe slid deeper into my other vagina. There was love mayonnaise weeping from his timed slimer and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his flesh gordon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The hammering makes me squirt my fallopian fish stock all over his muffbuster. He launched a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my breasticles just so he could suck it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load seeping from my ring piece and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. If I don't strum the banjo to get my clunge gunge haemorrhaging from my slime hole, his love lollipop is going to leave my vertical smile resembling an over inflated dinghy. My throat was so full of one-eyed monster and love mayonnaise, the man fat was oozing down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. With his muffbuster hammering deep into my carp cavity, the sensation of his cream reaper smashing my cervix made me quake like jelly. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and love piss in my marmite motorway created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. I awoke the next morning with my cod crater still dribbling. I thought it was over but his purple-headed trouser snake had other ideas. When he removed his spam dagger from my brown mile, 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 giggle stick. The thrusting of my turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his long-dong silver deep in my vintage golf bag. By now, my salmon slit was foaming like a hungry pig at a trough. He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his one-eyed milkman made my flange custard ooze like a hungry pig at a trough. Inserting a barbie doll into my frilling pink golf bag got me gushing minge mucus faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my chamber of squelch and a lightbulb up my brown eye.
