walking the red carpet for
the best part of a week. I awoke the next morning with my calamari cockring
still oozing. I thought it was over but his vein cane had other ideas. The
feeling of his creamy load dribbling down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing
quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel.
My
mound of love pudding was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert.
When he removed his womb ferret from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to
gobble the corn-eyed butt snake off his tallywacker. After having my frilling
pink golf bag plowed, he then proceeded to fuck my rusty sherif's badge. The
seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his bald avenger
soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The plowing makes me flow my pussy
batter all over his spunk-filled spam rocket. Within no time, I could feel the
shitty Da Vinci load frothing from my brown mile and all over my furburger. The
mixture of sewer trout and man fat in my rusty bullet hole created the
delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. There was penis pudding
slobbering from his brie baton and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were
ready for more. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the
sight of his pink tractor beam made my pussy batter drip like Wayne Rooney's
dick in an OAP home. I awoke the next morning with my carp cavity still
frothing. I thought it was over but his bald avenger had other ideas. Hours of
fucking like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like a badly
wrapped kebab, and I was no different! He munched on my spam castanets, even
though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. With his batter
blaster hammering deep into my chlamydia canal, the sensation of his chorizo
howitzer smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd
concert. Some girls are happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone, but I
can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my gammon alley and a
lightbulb up my brown eye. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was
the least of my worries as his batter blaster probed deeper into my
turd-herder. He launched a giant Mr. Hanky on my love bubbles just so he could
lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Inserting a barbie doll into my
depravity cavity got me pouring minge mucus faster than greased shit off a
shiny shovel. My cake hole was so full of eight inches of throbbing pink jesus
and penis pudding, the steamin' semen was weeping down my chin and onto my
breasticles. With my vertical garden now much like a rabid baboon's arse, he
thought it was time to start ramming my fart valve. Is now the time to tell him
I really need to pinch off a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? The thrusting
of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining
his batter blaster deep in my shit winker. I can't wait to consume the creamy
load from his battering ram. The unrelenting orgasms from his eight inches of
throbbing pink jesus hammering my pink velvet sausage wallet made me come so
hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. If I
don't play the clitar to get my pussy batter leaking from my bearded haddock
pasty, his huge penis is going to leave my piss flaps resembling a shot cat. By
now, my mound of love pudding was dripping like a slug in a salt mine. The
feeling of his man fat flowing down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing
quicker than a greased weasel shit.
Some
girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't
get off without having a squash in my furry cup and a squash up my black hole.
The unrelenting orgasms from his womb ferret thrusting my gashtray made me come
so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. By
now, my whispering eye was leaking like someone had poured fairy liquid into
Niagara Falls. The
the best part of a week. I awoke the next morning with my calamari cockring
still oozing. I thought it was over but his vein cane had other ideas. The
feeling of his creamy load dribbling down my throat got my shrimp sap flowing
quicker than greased shit off a shiny shovel.
My
mound of love pudding was trembling like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert.
When he removed his womb ferret from my chocolate starfish, he was pleasantly
surprised to see a stink pickle staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to
gobble the corn-eyed butt snake off his tallywacker. After having my frilling
pink golf bag plowed, he then proceeded to fuck my rusty sherif's badge. The
seemingly never-ending streams of cock custard emanating from his bald avenger
soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. The plowing makes me flow my pussy
batter all over his spunk-filled spam rocket. Within no time, I could feel the
shitty Da Vinci load frothing from my brown mile and all over my furburger. The
mixture of sewer trout and man fat in my rusty bullet hole created the
delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. There was penis pudding
slobbering from his brie baton and I was wetter than an otter's pocket. We were
ready for more. Now, I've seen more japseyes than an oriental optician, but the
sight of his pink tractor beam made my pussy batter drip like Wayne Rooney's
dick in an OAP home. I awoke the next morning with my carp cavity still
frothing. I thought it was over but his bald avenger had other ideas. Hours of
fucking like this would leave any girl's panty hamster looking like a badly
wrapped kebab, and I was no different! He munched on my spam castanets, even
though I'd had Aunt Flo visiting for the best part of a week. With his batter
blaster hammering deep into my chlamydia canal, the sensation of his chorizo
howitzer smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd
concert. Some girls are happy just to strum the banjo when they're alone, but I
can't get off without having an antique doorknob in my gammon alley and a
lightbulb up my brown eye. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was
the least of my worries as his batter blaster probed deeper into my
turd-herder. He launched a giant Mr. Hanky on my love bubbles just so he could
lap it up like a bulldog eating porridge. Inserting a barbie doll into my
depravity cavity got me pouring minge mucus faster than greased shit off a
shiny shovel. My cake hole was so full of eight inches of throbbing pink jesus
and penis pudding, the steamin' semen was weeping down my chin and onto my
breasticles. With my vertical garden now much like a rabid baboon's arse, he
thought it was time to start ramming my fart valve. Is now the time to tell him
I really need to pinch off a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? The thrusting
of my cocoa channel was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining
his batter blaster deep in my shit winker. I can't wait to consume the creamy
load from his battering ram. The unrelenting orgasms from his eight inches of
throbbing pink jesus hammering my pink velvet sausage wallet made me come so
hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. If I
don't play the clitar to get my pussy batter leaking from my bearded haddock
pasty, his huge penis is going to leave my piss flaps resembling a shot cat. By
now, my mound of love pudding was dripping like a slug in a salt mine. The
feeling of his man fat flowing down my throat got my clunge gunge flowing
quicker than a greased weasel shit.
Some
girls are happy just to dial the rotary phone when they're alone, but I can't
get off without having a squash in my furry cup and a squash up my black hole.
The unrelenting orgasms from his womb ferret thrusting my gashtray made me come
so hard, I began sweating like a gypsy near an unlocked shipping container. By
now, my whispering eye was leaking like someone had poured fairy liquid into
Niagara Falls. The
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