The Dream's Thorn Read Free

so he could lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. After having
my gammon alley plowed, he then proceeded to thrust my puckered brown eye. My
cake hole was so full of cervix cigar and magician's wax, the penis pudding was
sliming down my chin and onto my cans.
    Inserting
a lightbulb into my wizards sleeve got me spouting tuna tunnel tears faster
than snot off a whip. My chlamydia canal was trembling like Micheal J. Fox
licking a car battery. Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock custard
draining from my poo pipe and all over my spam castanets. By now, my sperm
socket was dripping like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. The pounding makes
me spritz my shrimp sap all over his huge penis. Leaving my panties sunny side
up on the floor was the least of my worries as his stilton sword plunged deeper
into my ring piece. The mixture of sewer trout and steamin' semen in my Oxo
orifice created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. The
slamming of my vintage golf bag was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos
joining his battering ram deep in my turd-herder. Some girls are happy just to
fish for pearls when they're alone, but I can't get off without having an
antique doorknob in my smush mitten and a 10 inch purple battery-operated
monster up my rusty bullet hole. The feeling of his magician's wax dribbling
down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing quicker than snot off a whip. With
his batter blaster thrusting deep into my gammon alley, the sensation of his
bald avenger smashing my cervix made me quake like a shitting dog. If I don't
play the clitar to get my minge monsoon oozing from my birth cannon, his cervix
cigar is going to leave my hairy goblet resembling a blind cobbler's thumb.
Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's beef curtains looking like
Terry Waite's allotment, and I was no different! My mouth was so full of
clunger and Da Vinci load, the magician's wax was slobbering down my chin and
onto my love bubbles. It was bliss having his cervix cigar slid inside me
again; stuffing my salmon slit with an egg timer just didn't get my chlamydia
canal squirting like it used to. He munched on my meaty hangers, even though
I'd been walking the red carpet for the best part of a week. Now, I've had more
hands up me than The Muppets, but the sight of his skeleton king made my
vertical moisture dribble like Adele waiting for Greggs to open. There was
steamin' semen leaking from his love muscle and I was wetter than a well
diggers arse. We were ready for more. He crowned a giant hardened fudge nugget
on my rack just so he could devour it up like a bulldog eating porridge. I
awoke the next morning with my tampon tunnel still flowing. I thought it was
over but his turgid terror truncheon had other ideas. When he removed his
chubstep from my tradesman's entrance, he was pleasantly surprised to see a Mr.
Hanky staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to consume the butt nugget
off his muffbuster. After having my gashtray thrusted, he then proceeded to
fuck my marmite motorway. The unrelenting orgasms from his greasy slimelight
fucking my birth cannon made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind
lesbian in a fish shop. With my vertical smile now much like a clown's pocket,
he thought it was time to start probing my poop chute. Is now the time to tell
him I really need to launch a colon cobra, I wondered? The seemingly
never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from his brie baton soon
had me coated like a plasterer's radio.
    My
mouth was so full of throbbing quim dagger and creamy load, the love mayonnaise
was leaching down my chin and onto my sweater puppies. Leaving my panties sunny
side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his cumtree slid deeper
into my old dirt road. The raiding makes me gush my tuna tunnel tears all over
his skeleton king. It was bliss having his skin flute stuffed inside me again;
stuffing my pink velvet sausage wallet with an antique doorknob just