The Dream's Thorn

by Amy Woods

  The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and steamin' semen in my balloon knot created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his ample cock soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his cream reaper made my sex wee dribble like a hungry pig at a trough. With my piss flaps now much like a sand blasted tomato, he thought it was time to start probing my tradesman's entrance. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my minge mucus frothing from my mound of love pudding, his timed slimer is going to leave my spam castanets resembling a dropped burrito. Within no time, I could feel the shitty ectoplasm dribbling from my rusty bullet hole and all over my purple cabbage. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his chubstep stuffed deeper into my ring piece. The slamming makes me gush my fallopian fish stock all over his thrill drill. The feeling of his love mayonnaise seeping down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. There was Da Vinci load leaking from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. After having my cod crater plowed, he then proceeded to slam my balloon knot. By now, my shamevelope was dripping like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. I awoke the next morning with my tuna canal still frothing. I thought it was over but his giggle stick had other ideas. When he removed his jade rod from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr. Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the sewer trout off his bald-headed yogurt slinger. He crowned a giant colon cobra on my twin peaks just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. The slamming of my turd cutter was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his cheese-crusted cock deep in my mud flap. With his washington monument hammering deep into my fuck gutter, the sensation of his huge penis smashing my cervix made me quake like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Inserting a 15" spiked vibrator into my cod crater got me squirting pussy batter faster than snot off a whip. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like John Wayne's saddlebags, and I was no different! It was bliss having his cervix cigar rammed inside me again; stuffing my gaping clam cavern with a lightbulb just didn't get my depravity cavity spraying like it used to. My moose knuckle was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The unrelenting orgasms from his tallywacker hammering my ruby cave made me come so hard, I began sweating like a whore in a confessional. I can't wait to consume the love mayonnaise from his Nelson's Column. 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 cum dumpster and my fist up my other vagina.

  When he removed his chorizo howitzer from my black hole, he was pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the stink pickle off his greasy slimelight. My gammon alley was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's vertical garden looking like a stamped bat, and I was no different! The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his timed slimer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his muffbuster thrusting deep into my salmon slit, the sensation of his Nelson's Column smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. I awoke the next morning with my south mouth still flowing. I thought it was over but his vein cane had other ideas. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax haemorrhaging from my ring piece and all over my purple cabbage. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his turgid terror truncheon stuffed deeper into my other vagina. The feeling of his gentleman's relish leaking down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than snot off a whip. By now, my spunk dungeon was oozing like a slug in a salt mine. The thrusting of my chocolate starfish was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his washington monument deep in my turd cutter. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his muffbuster made my spaff ooze like a jizz waterfall. Inserting a 9-iron into my municipal cockwash got me squirting minge monsoon faster than a greased weasel shit. The plowing makes me flow my shrimp sap all over his huge penis. My mouth was so full of long-dong silver and cock snot, the cock custard was weeping down my chin and onto my chest puppies. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my minge monsoon seeping from my spunk dungeon, his flesh gordon is going to leave my velcro triangle resembling Pete Burns' lips. There was man fat sliming from his master of ceremonies and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. It was bliss having his cervix cigar probed inside me again; stuffing my stench trench with my fist just didn't get my south mouth pouring like it used to. Some girls are happy just to stimulate the genitals through phalangetic motion when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a squash in my frilling pink golf bag and a number of chillies up my old dirt road. He blasted a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my twin peaks just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The unrelenting orgasms from his battering ram slamming my kipper dinghy made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. With my fishy flaps now much like a bucket of smashed crabs, he thought it was time to start plunging my ring piece. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cut a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? After having my front bum thrusted, he then proceeded to thrust my fudge factory. I can't wait to consume the ectoplasm from his cheese-crusted cock. He munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd had my redwings for the best part of a week.

  My depravity cavity was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. The feeling of his cock custard sliming down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. I awoke the next morning with my gaping clam cavern still leaching. I thought it was over but his sperminator had other ideas. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his flesh gordon slid deeper into my tradesman's entrance. There was love mayonnaise dripping from his giggle stick and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. My throat was so full of cunt stretcher and love piss, the love piss was dribbling down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. By now, my smush mitten was draining like a hungry pig at a trough. He copped a giant colon cobra on my superdroopers just so he could gobble it up like a pig at a trough. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my fuck trench and my fist up my chocolate starfish. The slamming of my marmite motorway was so vigorous, he soon found his kids on a swing joining his ample cock deep in my ring piece. If I don't flick the bean to get my pussy batter haemorrhaging from my sperm socket, his skin flute is going to leave my purple cabbage resembling Pete Burns' lips. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his turgid terror truncheon soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I can't wait to devour the man fat from his spunk-filled spam rocket. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and gentleman's relish in my rusty sherif's badge created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. The unrelenting orgasms from his cunt plunger fucking my split peach made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. The hammering makes me flood my minge mucus all over his bald avenger. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen trickling from my vintage golf bag and all over my vertical smile. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his spam javelin made my minge monsoon slime like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. He munched on my furburger, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. With his womb ferret thrusting deep into my whispering eye, the sensation of his clunger smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog. Inserting my fist into my cod canyon got me gushing minge mucus
faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With my flappy meal now much like a bulldog in a windtunnel, he thought it was time to start plunging my chocolate starfish. Is now the time to tell him I really need to ease a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's purple cabbage looking like the Japanese flag, and I was no different! It was bliss having his kebeb skewer stuffed inside me again; stuffing my moose knuckle with a number of chillies just didn't get my pink velvet sausage wallet gushing like it used to. After having my municipal cockwash fucked, he then proceeded to hammer my balloon knot.

  If I don't fluff the muff to get my minge monsoon leaking from my enchilada of love, his huge penis is going to leave my beef curtains resembling a bulldog licking piss from a thistle. There was creamy load sliming from his tallywacker and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. The raiding of my soft tight anus was so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his love muscle deep in my soft tight anus. With my fishy flaps now much like that bathroom door in The Shining, he thought it was time to start probing my shit winker. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a colon cobra, I wondered? The raiding makes me flow my sex wee all over his ample cock. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my shame portal and a barbie doll up my black hole. The mixture of sewer trout and baby gravy in my poop chute created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. I awoke the next morning with my carp cavity still leaking. I thought it was over but his purple-headed trouser snake had other ideas. By now, my gashtray was dribbling like a broken fridge freezer. I can't wait to consume the love mayonnaise from his turgid terror truncheon. He munched on my purple cabbage, even though I'd been riding the cotton pony for the best part of a week. Inserting a barbie doll into my hatchet wound got me spritzing clunge gunge faster than a greased weasel shit. With his battering ram fucking deep into my quim, the sensation of his timed slimer smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. My one slice toaster was trembling like jelly. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat draining from my shit winker and all over my furburger. Now, I've seen more foreskins than a rabbi during a baby boom, but the sight of his meaty member made my vertical moisture ooze like a rabid dog. My mouth was so full of love lollipop and steamin' semen, the creamy load was frothing down my chin and onto my chest puppies. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his skin flute soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. He blasted a giant stink pickle on my chesticles just so he could gobble it up like a hungry hungry hippo. The feeling of his cock custard flowing down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like a gutted trout, and I was no different! The unrelenting orgasms from his cunt stretcher slamming my wizards sleeve made me come so hard, I began sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee. When he removed his blue-veined custard chucker 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 lap the colon cobra off his wrist-thick wand. It was bliss having his jebend rammed inside me again; stuffing my meat purse with a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster just didn't get my south mouth spattering like it used to. After having my herring hole slammed, he then proceeded to raid my brown mile.

  The pounding makes me splurge my flange custard all over his love muscle. If I don't buff the muff to get my spaff draining from my kipper dinghy, his one-eyed milkman is going to leave my beef curtains resembling a rabid baboon's arse. With my meaty hangers now much like a dropped burrito, he thought it was time to start shoving my turd cutter. Is now the time to tell him I really need to extrude a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? He dropped a giant stink pickle on my love bubbles just so he could suck it up like a hungry hungry hippo. After having my vaginal bacon buffet fucked, he then proceeded to fuck my fart valve. The plowing of my turd cutter was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his all-beef thermometer deep in my poop chute. There was Da Vinci load trickling from his bald-headed yogurt slinger and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his stilton spear soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like the Japanese flag, and I was no different! When he removed his tallywacker from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the butt nugget off his purple-headed trouser snake. With his blue-veined custard chucker slamming deep into my clearing in the woods, the sensation of his disco stick smashing my cervix made me quiver like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Inserting an antique doorknob into my wunder down under got me ejecting clunge gunge faster than a greased weasel shit. I awoke the next morning with my furry cup still draining. I thought it was over but his ramrod had other ideas. My ground zero grotto was trembling like a shitting dog. The feeling of his gentleman's relish frothing down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. Some girls are happy just to tune the tuna when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a gerbil in my clam-flavoured pothole and an egg timer up my turd cutter. My throat was so full of clunger and cock snot, the love mayonnaise was leaking down my chin and onto my boobage. Within no time, I could feel the shitty creamy load flowing from my soft tight anus and all over my clap flaps. The mixture of toilet twinkie and Da Vinci load in my Oxo orifice created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his stilton spear made my beige slime leach like a leaky tap. By now, my bearded haddock pasty was frothing like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his master of ceremonies plunged deeper into my ring piece. It was bliss having his brie baton plunged inside me again; stuffing my municipal cockwash with a barbie doll just didn't get my cod canyon spritzing like it used to. The unrelenting orgasms from his stilton sword fucking my vibrator crater made me come so hard, I began sweating like Gary glitter at PC World. I can't wait to devour the love piss from his vein cane.

  The feeling of his man fat dribbling down my throat got my minge monsoon flowing quicker than snot off a whip. I awoke the next morning with my gashtray still sliming. I thought it was over but his purple-headed trouser snake had other ideas. The mixture of sewer trout and cock custard in my old dirt road created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. When he removed his tallywacker from my marmite motorway, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the sewer trout off his long-dong silver. With my vertical garden now much like an over inflated dinghy, he thought it was time to start probing my balloon knot. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his brie baton stuffed deeper into my shit winker. The unrelenting orgasms from his wensleydale wand raiding my furry cup made me come so hard, I began sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. It was bliss having his jebend rammed inside me again; stuffing my enchilada of love with an antique doorknob just didn't get my vibrator crater surging like it used to. Within no time, I could feel the shitty magician's wax flowing from my ring piece and all over my meaty hangers. There was love mayonnaise foaming from his veiny quim prod and I was wetter than a spastic's chin. We were ready for more. My Quimcy, M.E. was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. Some girls are happy just to flick the bean when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my chlamydia canal and a lightbulb up my rusty bullet hole. I can't wait to devour the magician's wax from his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon. The plowing makes me spray my spaff all over his chubstep. He munched on my open-faced h
am sandwich, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. My cake hole was so full of jade rod and love mayonnaise, the magician's wax was dribbling down my chin and onto my mammaries. Inserting a 9-iron into my depravity cavity got me ejecting shrimp sap faster than snot off a whip. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his greasy kebab skewer made my pussy batter drain like Wayne Rooney's dick in an OAP home. If I don't fluff the muff to get my shrimp sap leaching from my split peach, his throbbing quim dagger is going to leave my open-faced ham sandwich resembling that bathroom door in The Shining. The raiding of my poo pipe was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his chubstep deep in my poop chute. Hours of slamming like this would leave any girl's clap flaps looking like a badly wrapped kebab, and I was no different! After having my fuck gutter raided, he then proceeded to slam my rusty sherif's badge. He curled a giant Mr. Hanky on my superdroopers just so he could lap it up like a hungry hungry hippo. With his skeleton king fucking deep into my wizards sleeve, the sensation of his stilton sword smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his cunt plunger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.