It was bliss having his flesh gordon slid inside me again; stuffing my wunder down under with a squash just didn't get my slime hole spattering like it used to. Inserting a 9-iron into my chamber of squelch got me gushing vertical moisture faster than snot off a whip. My cake hole was so full of vein cane and man fat, the love piss was trickling down my chin and onto my sweater puppies. With his ample cock raiding deep into my mound of love pudding, the sensation of his clunger smashing my cervix made me quiver like Micheal J. Fox licking a car battery. The seemingly never-ending streams of baby gravy emanating from his long-dong silver soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio.