by Amy Woods
My cod canyon was trembling like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. With my beef curtains now much like Pete Burns' lips, he thought it was time to start probing my brown mile. Is now the time to tell him I really need to cop a corn-eyed butt snake, I wondered? By now, my smush mitten was dripping like a jizz waterfall. My mouth was so full of cunt stretcher and love mayonnaise, the ectoplasm was slobbering down my chin and onto my top bollocks. The seemingly never-ending streams of cock snot emanating from his cumtree soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his Ocean's 11 Inches shoved deeper into my mud flap. There was gentleman's relish weeping from his womb ferret and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. When he removed his pink tractor beam from my poop chute, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the stink pickle off his spam javelin. After having my south mouth raided, he then proceeded to slam my turd cutter. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and Da Vinci load in my tradesman's entrance created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. The feeling of his Da Vinci load leaching down my throat got my beige slime flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his meaty member made my fallopian fish stock flow like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. Some girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my wunder down under and a squash up my marmite motorway. The plowing of my Mavis Fritter was so vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his long-dong silver deep in my poo pipe. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's meaty hangers looking like a stuntman's knee, and I was no different! Inserting a squash into my Quimcy, M.E. got me spouting beige slime faster than a greased weasel shit. He munched on my purple cabbage, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. I awoke the next morning with my ladytown still leaking. I thought it was over but his slut slayer had other ideas. The hammering makes me spritz my shrimp sap all over his sperminator. It was bliss having his greasy kebab skewer probed inside me again; stuffing my pink velvet sausage wallet with a barbie doll just didn't get my gashtray flowing like it used to. The unrelenting orgasms from his master of ceremonies pounding my carp cavity made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. Within no time, I could feel the shitty penis pudding trickling from my cocoa channel and all over my clap flaps. He pitched a giant Mr. Hanky on my twin peaks just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. I can't wait to suck the love piss from his cunt stretcher. With his sperminator fucking deep into my fuck trench, the sensation of his sperminator smashing my cervix made me quiver like a shitting dog.
He munched on my spam castanets, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best part of a week. He extruded a giant footlong fudge bullet on my sweater puppies just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his vein cane probed deeper into my other vagina. The feeling of his love piss draining down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than snot off a whip. The fucking of my puckered brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his ramrod deep in my balloon knot. I awoke the next morning with my split peach still oozing. I thought it was over but his ramrod had other ideas. There was love piss oozing from his turgid terror truncheon and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. By now, my vibration station was seeping like a jizz waterfall. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his balony pony made my tuna tunnel tears flow like a slavering dog. Inserting a gerbil into my stench trench got me spritzing beige slime faster than snot off a whip. I can't wait to suck the steamin' semen from his womb ferret. It was bliss having his devil's bagpipe shoved inside me again; stuffing my spunk dungeon with a gerbil just didn't get my meat purse surging like it used to. When he removed his stilton spear from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the hardened fudge nugget off his tallywacker. After having my fuck trench fucked, he then proceeded to plow my Oxo orifice. My fuck trench was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. The seemingly never-ending streams of creamy load emanating from his battering ram soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my clunge gunge haemorrhaging from my gaping clam cavern, his balony pony is going to leave my vertical smile resembling a bulldog licking piss from a thistle. The pounding makes me splurge my clunge gunge all over his jebend. With my lunchmeat now much like a bulldog in a windtunnel, he thought it was time to start shoving my soft tight anus. Is now the time to tell him I really need to arc a toilet twinkie, I wondered? Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like Terry Waite's allotment, and I was no different! Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot trickling from my balloon knot and all over my panty hamster. The mixture of footlong fudge bullet and Da Vinci load in my poo pipe created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. Some girls are happy just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my cock holster and a barbie doll up my turd cutter. My mouth was so full of spam dagger and man fat, the man fat was dribbling down my chin and onto my chest puppies. With his thrill drill fucking deep into my chlamydia canal, the sensation of his blind butler smashing my cervix made me quake like a tasered slab of chopped liver.
He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd had the painters in for the best part of a week. Hours of raiding like this would leave any girl's open-faced ham sandwich looking like a stamped bat, and I was no different! Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his thrill drill slid deeper into my poop chute. If I don't study english cliterature to get my vertical moisture dribbling from my birth cannon, his jade rod is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling the Japanese flag. The plowing of my old dirt road was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his kebeb skewer deep in my poop chute. Some girls are happy just to buff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my wizards sleeve and my fist up my other vagina. Inserting an antique doorknob into my chamber of squelch got me spattering minge mucus faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. With his wrist-thick wand pounding deep into my vibrator crater, the sensation of his purple beaver buster smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. With my beef curtains now much like a dropped burrito, he thought it was time to start ramming my rusty sherif's badge. Is now the time to tell him I really need to crown a butt nugget, I wondered? The hammering makes me spray my shrimp sap all over his throbbing quim dagger. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen slobbering from my turd cutter and all over my lunchmeat. The unrelenting orgasms from his ramrod fucking my whispering eye made me come so hard, I began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. I can't wait to suck the ectoplasm from his Ocean's 11 Inches. My throat was so full of meaty member and penis pudding, the love mayonnaise was weeping down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. By now, my enchilada of love was trickling like a hungry pig at a trough. The feeling of his man fat haemorrhaging down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. It was bliss having his huge penis stuffed inside me again; stuffing my cod cave with a number of chillies just didn't get my vibrator crater surging like it used to. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his love lollipop made my clunge gunge weep like a broken coffee maker. The mixture of butt nugget and love mayonnaise in my rusty bullet hole created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. After having my south mouth thrusted, he then proceeded to thrust my turd cutter. He arced a giant hardened fudge nugget on my twin peaks just so he c
ould chow down on it up like a pig at a trough. I awoke the next morning with my tampon tunnel still seeping. I thought it was over but his one-eyed milkman had other ideas. There was love piss sliming from his chorizo howitzer and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from his wensleydale wand soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My fuck trench was trembling like jelly.
Now, I've taken more poundings than the Somme, but the sight of his throbbing quim dagger made my clunge gunge drip like a hungry pig at a trough. The hammering of my rusty bullet hole was so vigorous, he soon found his trouser conkors joining his long-dong silver deep in my turd cutter. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen slobbering from my turd-herder and all over my hairy goblet. My chamber of squelch was trembling like a rat on acid. Some girls are happy just to audition the finger puppets when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a number of chillies in my calamari cockring and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my Mavis Fritter. After having my cod canyon hammered, he then proceeded to slam my puckered brown eye. By now, my oyster ditch was trickling like a George Foreman grill. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his love muscle slid deeper into my turd-herder. With my meaty hangers now much like an over inflated dinghy, he thought it was time to start probing my vintage golf bag. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a butt nugget, I wondered? The unrelenting orgasms from his cervix cigar fucking my cum dumpster made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. The mixture of corn-eyed butt snake and Da Vinci load in my mud flap created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. The slamming makes me spray my sex wee all over his cunt plunger. The seemingly never-ending streams of man fat emanating from his spam javelin soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his mutton dagger hammering deep into my Quimcy, M.E., the sensation of his skeleton king smashing my cervix made me quake like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. When he removed his veiny quim prod from my turd cutter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the butt nugget off his kebeb skewer. It was bliss having his piss pipe shoved inside me again; stuffing my front bum with a gerbil just didn't get my hatchet wound spritzing like it used to. I can't wait to suck the cock custard from his spam javelin. If I don't finger blast to get my minge monsoon dribbling from my moose knuckle, his all-beef thermometer is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a motorway pileup. He munched on my clap flaps, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part of a week. He cut a giant hardened fudge nugget on my top bollocks just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. The feeling of his cock snot leaking down my throat got my fallopian fish stock flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. There was steamin' semen oozing from his pink tractor beam and I was wetter than a bathmaid's elbow. We were ready for more. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl's hairy goblet looking like a gutted trout, and I was no different! I awoke the next morning with my tampon tunnel still leaching. I thought it was over but his ample cock had other ideas. Inserting a squash into my penis pothole got me ejecting pussy batter faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel.
My mouth was so full of ample cock and cock custard, the ectoplasm was frothing down my chin and onto my tatas. I can't wait to lap the man fat from his slut slayer. Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like a shot cat, and I was no different! After having my soft-shelled tuna taco slammed, he then proceeded to thrust my chocolate starfish. The mixture of sewer trout and penis pudding in my mud flap created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. He blasted a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my sweater puppies just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry hippo. I awoke the next morning with my smush mitten still draining. I thought it was over but his one-eyed milkman had other ideas. When he removed his kebeb skewer from my brown eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see a colon cobra staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to devour the corn-eyed butt snake off his blind butler. With my vertical garden now much like John Wayne's saddlebags, he thought it was time to start plunging my chocolate starfish. Is now the time to tell him I really need to launch a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? The unrelenting orgasms from his greasy kebab skewer hammering my sperm socket made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon factory. There was baby gravy oozing from his bugger king and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his flesh gordon probed deeper into my rusty bullet hole. The feeling of his steamin' semen leaching down my throat got my minge mucus flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the sight of his blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon made my fallopian fish stock haemorrhage like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. If I don't strum the banjo to get my shrimp sap trickling from my cum dumpster, his womb ferret is going to leave my piss flaps resembling a clown's pocket. With his slut slayer slamming deep into my calamari cockring, the sensation of his spam dagger smashing my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Inserting a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster into my cod crater got me flooding clunge gunge faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. It was bliss having his batter blaster probed inside me again; stuffing my ground zero grotto with an antique doorknob just didn't get my bearded haddock pasty pouring like it used to. The pounding makes me spray my shrimp sap all over his jebend. The slamming of my tradesman's entrance was so vigorous, he soon found his man marbles joining his Nelson's Column deep in my black hole. 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 vaginal bacon buffet and a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster up my chocolate starfish. My spunk dungeon was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen sliming from my tradesman's entrance and all over my beef curtains. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his all-beef thermometer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. By now, my Quimcy, M.E. was sliming like a broken coffee maker.
After having my vibration station fucked, he then proceeded to fuck my black hole. The feeling of his ectoplasm trickling down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though I'd been on the rag for the best part of a week. 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 spunk dungeon and my fist up my fart valve. I awoke the next morning with my kipper dinghy still foaming. I thought it was over but his all-beef thermometer had other ideas. When he removed his timed slimer from my fudge factory, he was pleasantly surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the Mr. Hanky off his bald avenger. It was bliss having his stilton sword shoved inside me again; stuffing my bearded haddock pasty with a 9-iron just didn't get my meat purse flooding like it used to. The unrelenting orgasms from his sperminator hammering my shame portal made me come so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage. If I don't fish for pearls to get my spaff oozing from my wizards sleeve, his long-dong silver is going to leave my fishy flaps resembling Brian May's plughole. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his blind butler slid deeper into my turd-herder. Within no time, I could feel the shitty steamin' semen weeping from my fudge factory and all over my flappy meal. My hatchet wound was trembling like jelly. I can't wait to consume the penis pudding from his cheese-crusted cock. With my vertical garden now much like Brian May's plughole, he thought it was time to start ramming my old dirt road. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pitch a toilet twinkie, I wondered? My cake hole was so full of love lollipop and baby gravy, the penis pudding was oozin
g down my chin and onto my tatas. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his spam dagger soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. There was cock snot foaming from his cunt stretcher and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. He curled a giant stink pickle on my cans just so he could consume it up like a bulldog eating porridge. The mixture of sewer trout and love piss in my shit winker created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. Now, I've seen more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his love muscle made my flange custard drip like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. The plowing of my balloon knot was so vigorous, he soon found his scroto baggins joining his love lollipop deep in my Oxo orifice. Hours of thrusting like this would leave any girl's flappy meal looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! Inserting a number of chillies into my south mouth got me pouring beige slime faster than a greased weasel shit. By now, my quim was flowing like a George Foreman grill. With his kebeb skewer plowing deep into my tuna canal, the sensation of his bald avenger smashing my cervix made me quiver like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert.
