fat dank buds

The Duke had some kind of party mansion, a home devoted to hedonistic decadence, big soft beds filled with rotations of sex, crystal decanters topped in golden nectar, silver trays of fruits and sweets, sugars, succulent meats and arrays of delicacies, mounds of illicit powders, fat dank buds, bowls of multicolored pills promising ups and downs, smooth moods, wickedly conjured hallucinated visions leaving stacks of satiated nudes convalescing soundly in expired joy, twitching, groaning, reaching, drooling, forgetting everything in a muddled cry until the heat of summer sun recedes and in the shadows, a hand discovers the womanly form of the hair of the dog.

Lord Malinov, Song of Songs

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About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
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