The Dream's Thorn

by Amy Woods

  The unrelenting orgasms from his chubstep fucking my clearing in the woods made me come so hard, I began sweating like a midget nun at a penguin shoot. My mouth was so full of giggle stick and man fat, the creamy load was dripping down my chin and onto my boobage. My ground zero grotto was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. It was bliss having his pink tractor beam plunged inside me again; stuffing my spunk dungeon with a squash just didn't get my gammon alley flooding like it used to. I can't wait to gobble the cock custard from his kebeb skewer. I awoke the next morning with my cock holster still dripping. I thought it was over but his chorizo howitzer had other ideas. The fucking of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his huge penis deep in my black hole. If I don't strum the banjo to get my spaff weeping from my south mouth, his spunk-filled spam rocket is going to leave my flappy meal resembling a horse's collar. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and cock custard in my cocoa channel created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. With his master of ceremonies fucking deep into my clearing in the woods, the sensation of his washington monument smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. With my hairy goblet now much like Terry Waite's allotment, he thought it was time to start plunging my vintage golf bag. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. The thrusting makes me eject my shrimp sap all over his battering ram. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my ladytown and a lightbulb up my ring piece. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his cervix cigar made my sex wee slime like a leaky tap. When he removed his jade rod from my ring piece, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the corn-eyed butt snake off his Ocean's 11 Inches. There was magician's wax draining from his love muscle and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his skin flute plunged deeper into my ring piece. After having my chamber of squelch hammered, he then proceeded to pound my shit winker. Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy draining from my puckered brown eye and all over my roast beef platter. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his balony pony soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my quim was sliming like a rabid dog. He pinched off a giant toilet twinkie on my mosquito bites just so he could chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like a bulldog in a windtunnel, and I was no different! The feeling of his Da Vinci load foaming down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than snot off a whip.

  I awoke the next morning with my carp cavity still haemorrhaging. I thought it was over but his spam dagger had other ideas. With my beef curtains now much like the Japanese flag, he thought it was time to start stuffing my rusty sherif's badge. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? Now, I've been told the sperm bank will accept my spit, but the sight of his washington monument made my vertical moisture ooze like a jizz waterfall. The seemingly never-ending streams of magician's wax emanating from his gristle missile soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The unrelenting orgasms from his gristle missile raiding my quim made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. The hammering makes me pour my vertical moisture all over his skeleton king. My enchilada of love was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. The feeling of his magician's wax draining down my throat got my pussy batter flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Within no time, I could feel the shitty baby gravy leaking from my balloon knot and all over my piss flaps. It was bliss having his clunger probed inside me again; stuffing my enchilada of love with a barbie doll just didn't get my split peach flowing like it used to. He munched on my vertical smile, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. If I don't stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion to get my clunge gunge trickling from my Quimcy, M.E., his tenderloin truncheon is going to leave my purple cabbage resembling a stuntman's knee. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his bald-headed yogurt slinger stuffed deeper into my brown eye. Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my whispering eye and a lightbulb up my Oxo orifice. My cake hole was so full of cervix cigar and cock snot, the steamin' semen was leaching down my chin and onto my rack. There was cock snot draining from his wrist-thick wand and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like a gutted trout, and I was no different! By now, my carp cavity was sliming like a George Foreman grill. The mixture of sewer trout and creamy load in my cocoa channel created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The raiding of my brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his wrist-thick wand deep in my other vagina. I can't wait to gobble the Da Vinci load from his jebend. With his chubstep thrusting deep into my birth cannon, the sensation of his bald avenger smashing my cervix made me quake like a shitting dog. Inserting an egg timer into my wizards sleeve got me spritzing tuna tunnel tears faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. When he removed his cunt stretcher from my puckered brown eye, 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 all-beef thermometer. After having my shamevelope pounded, he then proceeded to hammer my shit winker.

  The raiding of my fudge factory was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his chorizo howitzer deep in my poo pipe. My ladytown was trembling like jelly. The plowing makes me flood my pussy batter all over his batter blaster. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and man fat in my black hole created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. The feeling of his ectoplasm frothing down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. It was bliss having his muffbuster shoved inside me again; stuffing my stench trench with a lightbulb just didn't get my vibration station ejecting 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 number of chillies in my ladytown and my fist up my Mavis Fritter. The unrelenting orgasms from his blind butler hammering my whispering eye made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. After having my clunge pool hammered, he then proceeded to plow my other vagina. I can't wait to consume the baby gravy from his pink tractor beam. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like the south end of a badger going north, and I was no different! I awoke the next morning with my shame portal still leaching. I thought it was over but his turgid terror truncheon had other ideas. My cake hole was so full of tallywacker and cock custard, the man fat was dribbling down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise sliming from my fart valve and all over my furburger. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his meaty member made my fallopian fish stock seep like a slug in a salt mine. By now, my cod cave was frothing like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his timed slimer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his love muscle thrusting deep into my cock holster, the sensation of his jade rod smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. When he removed his purple-headed trouser snake from my turd-herder, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the toilet twinkie off his devil's bagpipe. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his turgid terror truncheon stuffed deeper into my Oxo orifice. If I don't fluff the muff to get my clunge gunge draining from my south mouth,
his veiny quim prod is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling a shot cat. There was magician's wax haemorrhaging from his meaty member and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. With my vertical garden now much like badly battered road kill, he thought it was time to start shoving my old dirt road. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? Inserting a 9-iron into my vibrator crater got me pouring sex wee faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel.

  After having my split peach fucked, he then proceeded to pound my balloon knot. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his ramrod soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his cream reaper made my minge mucus slime like a jizz waterfall. If I don't buff the muff to get my minge mucus draining from my enchilada of love, his thrill drill is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling a stamped bat. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like a hippo's yawn, and I was no different! Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm foaming from my black hole and all over my flappy meal. The fucking makes me flow my pussy batter all over his blind butler. The unrelenting orgasms from his blind butler plowing my kipper dinghy made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. I can't wait to gobble the baby gravy from his stilton spear. Some girls are happy just to play the clitar when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a barbie doll in my chlamydia canal and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my tradesman's entrance. With my clap flaps now much like a hippo's yawn, he thought it was time to start sliding my brown eye. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a sewer trout, I wondered? He munched on my panty hamster, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. Inserting a barbie doll into my calamari cockring got me flooding tuna tunnel tears faster than a greased weasel shit. By now, my kipper dinghy was leaching like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. My cake hole was so full of veiny quim prod and magician's wax, the creamy load was dripping down my chin and onto my rack. He curled a giant hardened fudge nugget on my mammaries just so he could gobble it up like a hungry hungry hippo. My oyster ditch was trembling like a shitting dog. With his devil's bagpipe slamming deep into my bearded haddock pasty, the sensation of his spam javelin smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. When he removed his piss pipe from my fart valve, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the toilet twinkie off his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his tallywacker stuffed deeper into my rusty bullet hole. There was Da Vinci load slobbering from his Nelson's Column and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. The raiding of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his chin pounders joining his disco stick deep in my vintage golf bag. I awoke the next morning with my municipal cockwash still seeping. I thought it was over but his love muscle had other ideas. It was bliss having his pink tractor beam slid inside me again; stuffing my chlamydia canal with a lightbulb just didn't get my municipal cockwash gushing like it used to. The feeling of his cock snot leaking down my throat got my sex wee flowing quicker than snot off a whip.

  With my spam castanets now much like a dropped burrito, he thought it was time to start stuffing my fudge factory. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? There was ectoplasm flowing from his ample cock and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. If I don't strum the banjo to get my clunge gunge flowing from my depravity cavity, his one-eyed milkman is going to leave my panty hamster resembling the Japanese flag. Within no time, I could feel the shitty Da Vinci load draining from my old dirt road and all over my piss flaps. I can't wait to suck the gentleman's relish from his purple-headed trouser snake. The hammering of my turd cutter was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his wrist-thick wand deep in my turd cutter. It was bliss having his washington monument shoved inside me again; stuffing my birth cannon with a barbie doll just didn't get my fuck trench splurging like it used to. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week. When he removed his jade rod from my fart valve, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to lap the Mr. Hanky off his clunger. The feeling of his love mayonnaise foaming down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. I awoke the next morning with my vaginal bacon buffet still trickling. I thought it was over but his muffbuster had other ideas. The thrusting makes me squirt my beige slime all over his bugger king. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his batter blaster plunged deeper into my fudge factory. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's lunchmeat looking like a shot cat, and I was no different! He rolled a giant footlong fudge bullet on my chest puppies just so he could suck it up like a pig at a trough. My south mouth was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. With his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus thrusting deep into my tampon tunnel, the sensation of his spam javelin smashing my cervix made me quiver like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. After having my quim fucked, he then proceeded to hammer my other vagina. By now, my cod cave was slobbering like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his Nelson's Column soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My cake hole was so full of devil's bagpipe and penis pudding, the gentleman's relish was flowing down my chin and onto my rack. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his brie baton made my beige slime seep like a hungry pig at a trough. 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 bearded haddock pasty and an antique doorknob up my Mavis Fritter. The unrelenting orgasms from his ramrod hammering my shamevelope made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. Inserting an antique doorknob into my soft-shelled tuna taco got me squirting spaff faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel.

  Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard weeping from my balloon knot and all over my fishy flaps. He cut a giant butt nugget on my mosquito bites just so he could gobble it up like a bulldog eating porridge. I awoke the next morning with my shame portal still sliming. I thought it was over but his brie baton had other ideas. It was bliss having his master of ceremonies plunged inside me again; stuffing my hot pocket with my fist just didn't get my quim splurging like it used to. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his spam javelin slid deeper into my ring piece. With my flappy meal now much like that bathroom door in The Shining, he thought it was time to start ramming my chocolate starfish. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a toilet twinkie, I wondered? Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his battering ram made my sex wee dribble like a broken fridge freezer. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my kipper dinghy and an egg timer up my black hole. When he removed his tallywacker from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a hardened fudge nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the stink pickle off his Ocean's 11 Inches. I can't wait to suck the man fat from his spam javelin. My mouth was so full of vein cane and creamy load, the baby gravy was dripping down my chin and onto my top bollocks. With his purple beaver buster raiding deep into my carp cavity, the sensation of his Nelson's Column smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and love mayonnaise in my black hole created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. After having my shamevelope raided, he then proceeded to slam my balloon kn
ot. My moose knuckle was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. There was love mayonnaise trickling from his Ocean's 11 Inches and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. The feeling of his penis pudding seeping down my throat got my spaff flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Inserting a gerbil into my oyster ditch got me surging flange custard faster than a greased weasel shit. The fucking of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein grapes joining his throbbing quim dagger deep in my poo pipe. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my pussy batter oozing from my municipal cockwash, his spam dagger is going to leave my beef curtains resembling a horse's collar. The seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his chubstep soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The hammering makes me gush my sex wee all over his throbbing quim dagger. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's vertical smile looking like badly battered road kill, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his cream reaper fucking my tampon tunnel made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week.