more fiction
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Posted:Apr 20, 2019 4:00 am
Last Updated:May 4, 2024 2:36 am 2122 Views
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I awoke the next morning with my wizards sleeve still trickling. I thought it was over but his balony pony had other ideas. With my hairy goblet now much like a stuntman's knee, he thought it was time to start stuffing my tradesman's entrance. Is now the time to tell him I really need to pinch off a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered? Within no time, I could feel the shitty cock snot leaking from my vintage golf bag and all over my vertical garden. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his meaty member probed deeper into my poop chute. After having my tuna canal raided, he then proceeded to hammer my chocolate starfish.
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fiction
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Posted:Apr 20, 2019 4:00 am
Last Updated:May 4, 2024 2:36 am 2195 Views
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He pitched a giant footlong fudge bullet on my rack just so he could suck it up like a hungry hungry hippo. Hours of raiding like this would leave any 's beef curtains looking like a rabid baboon's arse, and I was no different! With my roast beef platter now much like a rabid baboon's arse, he thought it was time to start ramming my poop chute. Is now the time to tell him I really need to roll a colon cobra, I wondered? If I don't flick the bean to get my minge monsoon leaching from my pocket, his inches of throbbing pink jesus is going to leave my panty hamster resembling Terry Waite's allotment. The raiding of my shit winker was so vigorous, he soon found his clock weights joining his sperminator deep in my vintage golf bag.
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More 360º Content
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Posted:Nov 3, 2018 7:06 am
Last Updated:May 4, 2024 2:36 am 2203 Views
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https://vimeo.com/296600045
Seems a copy n paste required 
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More 360º
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Posted:Nov 3, 2018 5:47 am
Last Updated:May 4, 2024 2:36 am 2338 Views
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Testing how to properly present this stuff on here.
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50 shades text generator
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Posted:Apr 19, 2018 4:04 am
Last Updated:May 4, 2024 2:36 am 2730 Views
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Automated bad erotica, but funny.
“ By now, my carp cavity was trickling like a broken coffee maker. I awoke the next morning with my chlamydia canal still flowing. I thought it was over but his washington monument had other ideas. My herring hole was trembling like a tasered slab of chopped liver. Some girls are happy just to fluff the muff when they're alone, but I can't get off without having a 10 inch purple battery-operated monster in my smush mitten and an egg timer up my Oxo orifice. Now, I've been shot over more times than Sarajevo, but the sight of his throbbing quim dagger made my spaff froth like a broken coffee maker.
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