I’d love to fuck a British slag one day. Especially one I pick out of some gutter at 3 am with giant tits, too much makeup, soused to the gills and with a broken high heel.

I’d take her home and chug cider with her until my bladder is about to explode, then I’d take her into the shower and piss-blast her giant tits while she sputters out her incoherent guttural low-speech. Dripping with piss, I’d bend her over and raw-dog her, STDs be damned, while making her gag on four of my fingers. While she’s moaning like a stout in heat I’d pull out, spray my cum all over her asshole, then use it as lube as I force my way into her shitter. Then a standard alternation of ass-to-mouth would follow. She would gag on my length until her tits are covered in that warm foaming ale that brought her to my place. Then I’d tit fuck her and finish her off on the face, her makeup running and fake eyelashes dislodged from my powerful blast.

Then I’d turn on a warm shower, let her wash up, and take her to bed with me. We’d sleep off a night of booze and cooze and go out in the morning for a full English breakfast. We’d exchange numbers, and as much as I’d like to think it was just one crazy night with a typical Britslag, I wouldn’t be able to forget her. We’d meet again to date and we would fall in love, living happily ever after.