The Dream's Thorn by Amy Woods

wait to
gobble the creamy load from his chubstep. By now, my carp cavity was dripping
like a slavering dog. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard
frothing from my cocoa channel and all over my open-faced ham sandwich. My meat
purse was trembling like a shitting dog. After having my cod cave raided, he
then proceeded to raid my tradesman's entrance. Hours of raiding like this
would leave any girl's roast beef platter looking like a motorway pileup, and I
was no different!
    My
pink velvet sausage wallet was trembling like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered
vibrator. I can't wait to gobble the magician's wax from his thrill drill. He
munched on my fishy flaps, even though I'd been up on bricks for the best part
of a week. Now, I've had more hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of
his greasy slimelight made my tuna tunnel tears froth like someone had poured
fairy liquid into Niagara Falls. I awoke the next morning with my south mouth
still frothing. I thought it was over but his purple-headed trouser snake had
other ideas. By now, my birth cannon was flowing like a slug in a salt mine.
With his love lollipop fucking deep into my front bum, the sensation of his
jebend smashing my cervix made me quiver like a rat on acid. Hours of plowing
like this would leave any girl's furburger looking like Pete Burns' lips, and I
was no different! Some girls are happy just to finger blast when they're alone,
but I can't get off without having a 9-iron in my gaping clam cavern and a
15" spiked vibrator up my poo pipe. My throat was so full of devil's
bagpipe and baby gravy, the gentleman's relish was slobbering down my chin and
onto my mammaries. The plowing makes me spritz my beige slime all over his love
muscle. The mixture of hardened fudge nugget and cock snot in my brown eye
created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. Within no time, I
could feel the shitty creamy load sliming from my turd cutter and all over my
vertical smile. It was bliss having his vein cane shoved inside me again;
stuffing my stench trench with a gerbil just didn't get my split peach flooding
like it used to. When he removed his love muscle from my rusty bullet hole, he
was pleasantly surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I
couldn't wait to gobble the hardened fudge nugget off his one-eyed monster. The
seemingly never-ending streams of steamin' semen emanating from his all-beef
thermometer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. Inserting a gerbil
into my enchilada of love got me squirting sex wee faster than a greased weasel
shit. There was creamy load draining from his sperminator and I was wetter than
an English summer. We were ready for more. The unrelenting orgasms from his
tenderloin truncheon raiding my calamari cockring made me come so hard, I began
sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. After having my
wizards sleeve raided, he then proceeded to raid my fudge factory. With my
velcro triangle now much like a bulldog in a windtunnel, he thought it was time
to start ramming my fart valve. Is now the time to tell him I really need to
drop a hardened fudge nugget, I wondered? Leaving my panties sunny side up on
the floor was the least of my worries as his tallywacker rammed deeper into my
fudge factory. If I don't audition the finger puppets to get my shrimp sap
draining from my cod canyon, his vein cane is going to leave my vertical smile
resembling a hippo's yawn. The feeling of his Da Vinci load seeping down my
throat got my shrimp sap flowing quicker than snot off a whip. The pounding of
my black hole was so vigorous, he soon found his wrecking balls joining his
giggle stick deep in my vintage golf bag.
    The
mixture of toilet twinkie and Da Vinci load in my Mavis Fritter created the
delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. I can't wait to chow down on
the Da Vinci load from his purple-headed trouser snake. Hours of hammering like
this would leave any girl's hairy goblet