love
mayonnaise leaking from my poop chute and all over my furburger. My stench
trench was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. He dropped a giant
Mr. Hanky on my chesticles just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry
hippo. The thrusting makes me flow my minge monsoon all over his womb ferret.
After having my cod crater hammered, he then proceeded to pound my poo pipe.
The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his skin
flute soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I awoke the next morning
with my shamevelope still weeping. I thought it was over but his chubstep had
other ideas. The feeling of his cock custard frothing down my throat got my
flange custard flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his gristle
missile shoved deeper into my black hole. By now, my salmon slit was seeping
like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls.
By
now, my depravity cavity was trickling like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight
of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. With my hairy goblet now much like a blind
cobbler's thumb, he thought it was time to start shoving my black hole. Is now
the time to tell him I really need to blast a stink pickle, I wondered? It was
bliss having his long-dong silver plunged inside me again; stuffing my
clam-flavoured pothole with a gerbil just didn't get my hatchet wound spouting
like it used to. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's spam
castanets looking like a stuntman's knee, and I was no different! After having
my herring hole raided, he then proceeded to fuck my poo pipe. If I don't study
english cliterature to get my clunge gunge slobbering from my south mouth, his
purple-headed trouser snake is going to leave my flappy meal resembling an over
inflated dinghy. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of
my worries as his ramrod slid deeper into my mud flap. The unrelenting orgasms
from his meaty member hammering my one slice toaster made me come so hard, I
began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. The thrusting of my
turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his master of
ceremonies deep in my mud flap. There was steamin' semen frothing from his
purple-headed trouser snake and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were
ready for more. With his muffbuster thrusting deep into my bearded haddock
pasty, the sensation of his bugger king smashing my cervix made me quake like
Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Within no time, I could feel the
shitty cock custard oozing from my marmite motorway and all over my vertical
garden. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from
his giggle stick soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My Quimcy, M.E.
was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. 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 chlamydia canal and my
fist up my rusty sherif's badge. He eased out a giant colon cobra on my
chesticles just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. My throat was
so full of huge penis and ectoplasm, the Da Vinci load was seeping down my chin
and onto my chesticles. The thrusting makes me splurge my sex wee all over his
clunger. When he removed his bugger king from my shit winker, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to
devour the toilet twinkie off his kebeb skewer. Now, I've seen more pricks than
a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his spunk-filled spam rocket made my
spaff weep like a hungry pig at a trough. I can't wait to gobble the baby gravy
from his jebend. The mixture of sewer trout and Da Vinci load in my puckered
brown eye created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. He
munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd been
mayonnaise leaking from my poop chute and all over my furburger. My stench
trench was trembling like Muhammad Ali on a tumble dryer. He dropped a giant
Mr. Hanky on my chesticles just so he could devour it up like a hungry hungry
hippo. The thrusting makes me flow my minge monsoon all over his womb ferret.
After having my cod crater hammered, he then proceeded to pound my poo pipe.
The seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his skin
flute soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. I awoke the next morning
with my shamevelope still weeping. I thought it was over but his chubstep had
other ideas. The feeling of his cock custard frothing down my throat got my
flange custard flowing quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel. Leaving my
panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his gristle
missile shoved deeper into my black hole. By now, my salmon slit was seeping
like someone had poured fairy liquid into Niagara Falls.
By
now, my depravity cavity was trickling like Augustus Gloop's mouth at the sight
of Willy Wonka's chocolate river. With my hairy goblet now much like a blind
cobbler's thumb, he thought it was time to start shoving my black hole. Is now
the time to tell him I really need to blast a stink pickle, I wondered? It was
bliss having his long-dong silver plunged inside me again; stuffing my
clam-flavoured pothole with a gerbil just didn't get my hatchet wound spouting
like it used to. Hours of hammering like this would leave any girl's spam
castanets looking like a stuntman's knee, and I was no different! After having
my herring hole raided, he then proceeded to fuck my poo pipe. If I don't study
english cliterature to get my clunge gunge slobbering from my south mouth, his
purple-headed trouser snake is going to leave my flappy meal resembling an over
inflated dinghy. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of
my worries as his ramrod slid deeper into my mud flap. The unrelenting orgasms
from his meaty member hammering my one slice toaster made me come so hard, I
began sweating like Joseph Fritzel on MTV Cribs. The thrusting of my
turd-herder was so vigorous, he soon found his two amigos joining his master of
ceremonies deep in my mud flap. There was steamin' semen frothing from his
purple-headed trouser snake and I was wetter than a well diggers arse. We were
ready for more. With his muffbuster thrusting deep into my bearded haddock
pasty, the sensation of his bugger king smashing my cervix made me quake like
Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. Within no time, I could feel the
shitty cock custard oozing from my marmite motorway and all over my vertical
garden. The seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman's relish emanating from
his giggle stick soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. My Quimcy, M.E.
was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. 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 chlamydia canal and my
fist up my rusty sherif's badge. He eased out a giant colon cobra on my
chesticles just so he could devour it up like a pig at a trough. My throat was
so full of huge penis and ectoplasm, the Da Vinci load was seeping down my chin
and onto my chesticles. The thrusting makes me splurge my sex wee all over his
clunger. When he removed his bugger king from my shit winker, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a sewer trout staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to
devour the toilet twinkie off his kebeb skewer. Now, I've seen more pricks than
a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his spunk-filled spam rocket made my
spaff weep like a hungry pig at a trough. I can't wait to gobble the baby gravy
from his jebend. The mixture of sewer trout and Da Vinci load in my puckered
brown eye created the delicious porthole pudding that he was so fond of. He
munched on my velcro triangle, even though I'd been
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