Authors: Amy Woods
I
can't wait to lap the creamy load from his cunt stretcher. The hammering makes
me spit my sex wee all over his purple beaver buster. The raiding of my
puckered brown eye was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his
master of ceremonies deep in my ring piece. The seemingly never-ending streams
of cock custard emanating from his timed slimer soon had me coated like a
plasterer's radio. By now, my kipper dinghy was dripping like there was a
midget inside me with a super soaker. It was bliss having his cream reaper slid
inside me again; stuffing my gashtray with an antique doorknob just didn't get
my cod cave gushing like it used to. Now, I've had more hands up me than The
Muppets, but the sight of his flesh gordon made my flange custard slime like
there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. If I don't finger blast to
get my pussy batter oozing from my ground zero grotto, his pink tractor beam is
going to leave my purple cabbage resembling a werewolf with it's throat cut. 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 finger blast when they're alone, but I
can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my tampon tunnel and
a squash up my shit winker. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love piss
haemorrhaging from my tradesman's entrance and all over my vertical garden.
After having my front bum hammered, he then proceeded to pound my mud flap.
There was gentleman's relish oozing from his greasy slimelight and I was wetter
than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more. My spunk dungeon was trembling
like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. Hours of plowing like this would
leave any girl's velcro triangle looking like a sand blasted tomato, and I was
no different! With his ramrod raiding deep into my ladytown, the sensation of
his turgid terror truncheon smashing my cervix made me quiver like an epileptic
at a Pink Floyd concert. He crowned a giant sewer trout on my twin peaks just
so he could suck it up like a hungry hungry hippo. I awoke the next morning
with my clunge pool still frothing. I thought it was over but his flesh gordon
had other ideas. When he removed his chorizo howitzer from my Oxo orifice, he
was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't
wait to gobble the corn-eyed butt snake off his meaty member. With my hairy
goblet now much like the south end of a badger going north, he thought it was
time to start ramming my soft tight anus. Is now the time to tell him I really
need to crown a butt nugget, I wondered? My mouth was so full of long-dong
silver and love piss, the penis pudding was leaching down my chin and onto my
chest puppies. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of
my worries as his skin flute shoved deeper into my poo pipe. The feeling of his
man fat frothing down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker than
greased shit off a shiny shovel. The mixture of colon cobra and love piss in my
chocolate starfish created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond
of. The unrelenting orgasms from his turgid terror truncheon pounding my clunge
pool made me come so hard, I began sweating like a white mouse in a tampon
factory.
He
munched on my piss flaps, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best
part of a week. With my panty hamster now much like a sand blasted tomato, he
thought it was time to start plunging my turd-herder. Is now the time to tell
him I really need to launch a Mr. Hanky, I wondered? The hammering of my mud
flap was so vigorous, he soon found his love spuds joining his battering ram
deep in my soft tight anus. There was gentleman's relish dribbling from his
blind butler and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for more.
The feeling of his steamin' semen slobbering down my throat got my minge
monsoon flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Within no time, I
could feel the shitty penis pudding dripping from my brown mile and all over my
spam castanets. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of
my worries as his love muscle probed deeper into my puckered brown eye. The
unrelenting orgasms from his timed slimer pounding my front bum made me come so
hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. By
now, my fuck trench was frothing like a slug in a salt mine. He cut a giant
butt nugget on my chesticles just so he could consume it up like a pig at a
trough. After having my furry cup thrusted, he then proceeded to fuck my poop
chute. My moose knuckle was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer.
Inserting an antique doorknob into my shamevelope got me spouting minge monsoon
faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The seemingly never-ending streams
of cock snot emanating from his bald-headed yogurt slinger soon had me coated
like a plasterer's radio. The plowing makes me eject my shrimp sap all over his
cervix cigar. With his flesh gordon thrusting deep into my soft-shelled tuna
taco, the sensation of his spam javelin smashing my cervix made me quake like a
shitting dog. The mixture of toilet twinkie and steamin' semen in my chocolate
starfish created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. I awoke
the next morning with my mound of love pudding still leaking. I thought it was
over but his clunger had other ideas. My cake hole was so full of cunt
stretcher and penis pudding, the cock snot was trickling down my chin and onto
my sweater puppies. Now, I've seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of
his skeleton king made my tuna tunnel tears dribble like a slug in a salt mine.
It was bliss having his devil's bagpipe rammed inside me again; stuffing my
stench trench with a lightbulb just didn't get my vibration station splurging
like it used to. I can't wait to devour the love piss from his Nelson's Column.
When he removed his meaty member from my poop chute, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't
wait to suck the corn-eyed butt snake off his chorizo howitzer. If I don't
strum the banjo to get my fallopian fish stock leaking from my Quimcy, M.E.,
his kebeb skewer is going to leave my clap flaps resembling a bucket of smashed
crabs. Some girls are happy just to study english cliterature when they're
alone, but I can't get off without having a 15" spiked vibrator in my
whispering eye and a barbie doll up my mud flap.
The
seemingly never-ending streams of Da Vinci load emanating from his long-dong
silver soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. With his eight inches of
throbbing pink jesus thrusting deep into my tuna canal, the sensation of his
spam javelin smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a
car battery. Some girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're
alone, but I can't get off without having an egg timer in my gaping clam cavern
and an egg timer up my tradesman's entrance. If I don't strum the banjo to get
my minge monsoon slobbering from my gaping clam cavern, his one-eyed monster is
going to leave my hairy goblet resembling Brian May's plughole. Now, I've seen
more action than Helmand Province, but the sight of his wrist-thick wand made
my tuna tunnel tears flow like a broken fridge freezer. The pounding makes me
surge my vertical moisture all over his skin flute. Leaving my panties sunny side
up on the floor was the least of my worries as his wensleydale wand probed
deeper into my brown eye. It was bliss having his love muscle plunged inside me
again; stuffing my stench trench with a lightbulb just didn't get my front bum
ejecting like it used to. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love piss
leaking from my black hole and all over my spam castanets. The unrelenting
orgasms from his jade rod fucking my gammon alley made me come so hard, I began
sweating like a paedo during a prison riot. My cake hole was so full of jade
rod and love piss, the gentleman's relish was haemorrhaging down my chin and
onto my cans. My vibrator crater was trembling like jelly. Hours of thrusting
like this would leave any girl's spam castanets looking like a sand blasted
tomato, and I was no different! With my open-faced ham sandwich now much like a
hippo's yawn, he thought it was time to start shoving my shit winker. Is now
the time to tell him I really need to curl a stink pickle, I wondered? After
having my shamevelope slammed, he then proceeded to hammer my turd cutter. The
raiding of my other vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his salty protein
grapes joining his womb raider deep in my tradesman's entrance. I awoke the
next morning with my vaginal bacon buffet still leaching. I thought it was over
but his blind butler had other ideas. I can't wait to devour the love
mayonnaise from his disco stick. There was love mayonnaise weeping from his
long-dong silver and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were ready for
more. The feeling of his love mayonnaise foaming down my throat got my flange
custard flowing quicker than snot off a whip. He munched on my lunchmeat, even
though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. When he removed
his gristle missile from my shit winker, he was pleasantly surprised to see a
footlong fudge bullet staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down
on the Mr. Hanky off his cream reaper. The mixture of butt nugget and Da Vinci
load in my tradesman's entrance created the delicious rectal stew that he was
so fond of. He crowned a giant Mr. Hanky on my love bubbles just so he could
gobble it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Inserting a number of chillies
into my fuck trench got me gushing flange custard faster than greased shit off
a shiny shovel.
The
pounding of my tradesman's entrance was so vigorous, he soon found his man
berries joining his sperminator deep in my chocolate starfish. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his spam
javelin plunged deeper into my shit winker. He launched a giant butt nugget on
my mosquito bites just so he could chow down on it up like a bulldog eating
porridge. I awoke the next morning with my shame portal still haemorrhaging. I
thought it was over but his skin flute had other ideas. The mixture of hardened
fudge nugget and gentleman's relish in my soft tight anus created the delicious
rectal stew that he was so fond of. I can't wait to suck the love mayonnaise
from his jebend. After having my herring hole pounded, he then proceeded to
raid my poop chute. Inserting a gerbil into my clunge pool got me surging tuna
tunnel tears faster than greased shit off a shiny shovel. The feeling of his
cock snot slobbering down my throat got my vertical moisture flowing quicker
than snot off a whip. With my fishy flaps now much like a ripped out fireplace,
he thought it was time to start probing my tradesman's entrance. Is now the
time to tell him I really need to roll a toilet twinkie, I wondered? Within no time,
I could feel the shitty man fat dribbling from my fudge factory and all over my
vertical garden. My mouth was so full of timed slimer and cock custard, the
steamin' semen was flowing down my chin and onto my chest puppies. Hours of
hammering like this would leave any girl's lunchmeat looking like a blind
cobbler's thumb, and I was no different! Now, I've taken more poundings than
the Somme, but the sight of his womb ferret made my tuna tunnel tears flow like
Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. It was
bliss having his skin flute plunged inside me again; stuffing my south mouth
with an egg timer just didn't get my tampon tunnel pouring like it used to. He
munched on my furburger, even though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best
part of a week. The seemingly never-ending streams of ectoplasm emanating from
his master of ceremonies soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My cum
dumpster was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. With his
jade rod plowing deep into my cock holster, the sensation of his stilton spear
smashing my cervix made me quake like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The
raiding makes me splurge my vertical moisture all over his one-eyed monster.
There was Da Vinci load slobbering from his brie baton and I was wetter than a
well diggers arse. We were ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms from his
greasy kebab skewer plowing my wizards sleeve made me come so hard, I began
sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. Some girls are happy just to
study english cliterature when they're alone, but I can't get off without
having a 9-iron in my mound of love pudding and a barbie doll up my soft tight
anus. If I don't get a stinky pinky to get my minge monsoon draining from my
meat purse, his thrill drill is going to leave my beef curtains resembling a
motorway pileup. When he removed his one-eyed milkman from my brown eye, he was
pleasantly surprised to see a butt nugget staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to devour the stink pickle off his chubstep.
I
awoke the next morning with my depravity cavity still weeping. I thought it was
over but his flesh gordon had other ideas. The raiding of my brown mile was so
vigorous, he soon found his sperm factories joining his all-beef thermometer
deep in my turd cutter. I can't wait to lap the steamin' semen from his spam
dagger. The mixture of toilet twinkie and baby gravy in my poop chute created
the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. If I don't flick the bean to
get my clunge gunge haemorrhaging from my clam-flavoured pothole, his skin
flute is going to leave my roast beef platter resembling a stamped bat. My cake
hole was so full of Nelson's Column and penis pudding, the penis pudding was
leaching down my chin and onto my fiery biscuits. The thrusting makes me surge
my vertical moisture all over his cumtree. Inserting a 9-iron into my one slice
toaster got me flowing pussy batter faster than greased shit off a shiny
shovel. Within no time, I could feel the shitty man fat leaching from my
chocolate starfish and all over my piss flaps. With his sperminator pounding
deep into my enchilada of love, the sensation of his muffbuster smashing my
cervix made me quake like a shitting dog. After having my smush mitten
thrusted, he then proceeded to thrust my rusty sherif's badge. Now, I've been
shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his Ocean's 11 Inches made
my fallopian fish stock haemorrhage like there was a midget inside me with a
super soaker. The feeling of his creamy load seeping down my throat got my
minge mucus flowing quicker than a greased weasel shit. There was cock custard
sliming from his greasy kebab skewer and I was wetter than an English summer.
We were ready for more. He munched on my vertical garden, even though I'd been
on the rag for the best part of a week. When he removed his long-dong silver
from my brown mile, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet twinkie staring
back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to suck the stink pickle off his bald
avenger. My stench trench was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer.
With my velcro triangle now much like a rabid baboon's arse, he thought it was
time to start sliding my fart valve. Is now the time to tell him I really need
to curl a stink pickle, I wondered? 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 vintage golf bag. Hours of slamming like this would leave any
girl's hairy goblet looking like a motorway pileup, and I was no different! The
seemingly never-ending streams of love piss emanating from his cunt stretcher
soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The unrelenting orgasms from his
pink tractor beam fucking my wizards sleeve made me come so hard, I began
sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. He arced a giant
stink pickle on my superdroopers just so he could lap it up like a pig at a
trough. Some girls are happy just to play the clitar when they're alone, but I
can't get off without having a squash in my cod canyon and my fist up my old
dirt road. It was bliss having his cunt plunger plunged inside me again;
stuffing my cum dumpster with an egg timer just didn't get my mound of love
pudding spritzing like it used to.