[dropcaps style=’square1′ background_color=”]T[/dropcaps]he seemingly never-ending streams of gentleman’s relish emanating from his throbbing quim dagger soon had me coated like a plasterer’s radio. The unrelenting orgasms from his chorizo howitzer slamming my cod crater made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. The mixture of sewer trout and magician’s wax in my turd cutter created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond of. Hours of fucking like this would leave any girl’s velcro triangle looking like a gutted trout, and I was no different! By now, my gammon alley was sliming like a broken fridge freezer.
By now, my cod cave was slobbering like a jizz waterfall. The mixture of stink pickle and creamy load in my brown eye created the delicious rectoplasm that he was so fond of. With his womb raider raiding deep into my gaping clam cavern, the sensation of his greasy kebab skewer smashing my cervix made me quake like an epileptic at a Pink Floyd concert. The unrelenting orgasms from his clunger slamming my municipal cockwash made me come so hard, I began sweating like a pregnant nun. The fucking makes me spritz my fallopian fish stock all over his greasy kebab skewer.
[blockquote text=’There was love mayonnaise sliming from his all-beef thermometer and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship.‘ text_color=” width=” background_color=” border_color=”]
The mixture of colon cobra and cock custard in my chocolate starfish created the delicious rectal stew that he was so fond of. By now, my calamari cockring was seeping like a hungry pig at a trough. With his one-eyed milkman slamming deep into my enchilada of love, the sensation of his purple beaver buster smashing my cervix made me quake like a tasered slab of chopped liver. The unrelenting orgasms from his spunk-filled spam rocket plowing my ladytown made me come so hard, I began sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. The raiding makes me spout my tuna tunnel tears all over his purple beaver buster.
There was love mayonnaise sliming from his all-beef thermometer and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were ready for more. If I don’t audition the finger puppets to get my spaff weeping from my vibrator crater, his eight inches of throbbing pink jesus is going to leave my furburger resembling a dropped burrito. Some girls are happy just to fish for pearls when they’re alone, but I can’t get off without having an egg timer in my soft-shelled tuna taco and a squash up my rusty sherif’s badge. With his spam javelin hammering deep into my hatchet wound, the sensation of his purple-headed trouser snake smashing my cervix made me quiver like jelly. The pounding makes me squirt my fallopian fish stock all over his slut slayer.