After having my gaping clam cavern pounded, he then proceeded to raid my poop chute. It was bliss having his purple beaver buster rammed inside me again; stuffing my furry cup with my fist just didn't get my cod crater spraying like it used to. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his turgid terror truncheon made my minge mucus haemorrhage like a slug in a salt mine. When he removed his disco stick from my Mavis Fritter, he was pleasantly surprised to see a corn-eyed butt snake staring back as him. He knew I couldn't wait to gobble the sewer trout off his thrill drill. Within no time, I could feel the ♥♥♥♥♥♥ ♥♥♥♥ custard leaking from my ring piece and all over my roast beef platter.