Chapter 1. Vein Cane
It was bliss having his vein cane probed inside me again; stuffing my ground zero grotto with a 10 inch purple
battery-operated monster just didn't get my calamari cockring surging like it used to. The hammering of my Oxo orifice was
so vigorous, he soon found his man berries joining his mutton dagger deep in my fudge factory. I can't wait to suck the
penis pudding from his cumtree. He munched on my beef curtains, even though I'd been surfing the crimson tide for the best
part of a week. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his skin flute soon had me coated like a
plasterer's radio.
Chapter 2. Beef Thermometer
With his all-beef thermometer slamming deep into my oyster ditch, the sensation of his long-dong silver smashing
my cervix made me quiver like Vanessa Feltz's diesel-powered vibrator. By now, my herring hole was dripping like a jizz
waterfall. The mixture of Mr. Hanky and man fat in my black hole created the delicious sphincter sauce that he was so fond
of. There was Da Vinci load haemorrhaging from his stilton sword and I was wetter than an Italian cruise ship. We were
ready for more. After having my shamevelope pounded, he then proceeded to plow my puckered brown eye.
Chapter 3. Pileup
Hours of plowing like this would leave any girl's lunchmeat looking like a motorway pileup, and I was no
different! When he removed his bald-headed yogurt slinger from my ring piece, he was pleasantly surprised to see a toilet
twinkie staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to chow down on the stink pickle off his bald-headed yogurt slinger.
By now, my clam-flavoured pothole was weeping like a rabid dog. He launched a giant sewer trout on my mammaries just so he
could lap it up like a pig at a trough. The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his kebeb
skewer soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.