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sacred silent season wrapped in silk in your tall towers imposed with the ambling sense of reason and ripe blossoms bathed in ***** milk never again left to wonder the aimless riches of yesterday and the golden hopes of tomorrow such are the joys of a Norseman pillage and plunder I will rummage your sweet gardens let your woven path lead my feet free of chains to your doorway; and the Viking stirs and hardens alpha breath against moist misty white skin my cobalt aquas revel in the seas of your chastity now ablaze with nordic sweat and archaic sin Let the games begin
0
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 1:20 PM UTC
Tale of the Celtic Handmaiden
sacred silent season wrapped in silk in your tall towers imposed with the ambling sense of reason and ripe blossoms bathed in ***** milk never again left to wonder the aimless riches of yesterday and the golden hopes of tomorrow such are the joys of a Norseman pillage and plunder I will rummage your sweet gardens let your woven path lead my feet free of chains to your doorway; and the Viking stirs and hardens alpha breath against moist misty white skin my cobalt aquas revel in the seas of your chastity now ablaze with nordic sweat and archaic sin Let the games begin
DBeard
Written by
Scottish
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 1:20 PM UTC
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