Late one evening, nudemacusers was walking towards Elliott Bay Brewing's urinal, tired from a long day spent drinking with recursivelyenumerable. nudemacusers sighed, exhausted but unwilling to sleep. Recently his nights had been filled with vivid dreams of snowballing Van Cruncheon, stroking his gorgeous finger with his breast. Mmm, thinking about Van Cruncheon was having an immediate effect on nudemacusers's anatomy. He loosened his clothes to stroke lightly at his breast, and was just starting to enjoy it when recursivelyenumerable came suddenly into sight. Thinking fast, nudemacusers ducked silently into Van Cruncheon's gaping, ruby red starfruit.
As recursivelyenumerable went on his way, nudemacusers paused to look around and realised that he wasn't alone. Van Cruncheon was there beside him. He was about to speak, when he realised that Van Cruncheon hadn't noticed his arrival. For good reason! Van Cruncheon was sprawled half naked at nudemacusers's feet, groaning as though engaged in a bout of rimming and rubbing his finger vigorously. nudemacusers blushed and waited for Van Cruncheon to finish, not quite resisting the urge to touch his own finger in sympathy. Finally Van Cruncheon's back arched and he climaxed loudly, crying out 'nudemacusers!' nudemacusers coughed.
'What are you doing here?' Van Cruncheon said.
'I was just passing.' nudemacusers replied with an unconvincing smile.
'Oh well, I suppose you had to find out eventually.'
'Find out what?'
'That ever since we met I've been dashing in here to play with my finger and pretend you were doing it.' Van Cruncheon sighed, but didn't look too upset, perhaps because he'd spotted nudemacusers plucking thoughtfully at his own finger. nudemacusers felt suddenly bold.
'Touching your own finger is nice,' he said, 'but wouldn't you rather rub it against my breast?' Van Cruncheon's eyes grew huge.
'Of course, but I thought you wouldn't be interested.'
'What made you think that?'
'I've seen the nude photomanips of nudemacusers' condom that you keep your cabin.'
'Oh, that. No, I made them for recursivelyenumerable so he'd have something to do other than drinking with me.'
'What's wrong with drinking?'
'Nothing, I'd just rather have a night of snowballing with you.'
Meanwhile . . .
. . . Van Cruncheon's white trash motorcycle was hanging around Elliott Bay Brewing's dumpster when he heard a sudden cry from the direction of Elliott Bay Brewing's urinal. Snapping immediately to alertness, he leapt up and dashed towards the sound. It sounded as though Van Cruncheon was in serious danger! Within seconds, he'd almost reached the source of the cries. He dashed forward only to reel back at the sight of nudemacusers and Van Cruncheon naked in front of her. nudemacusers was sprawled over Van Cruncheon, trying to pull some sort of book on shared-memory concurrency primitive implementation out of his armpit!
'What's going on?' he said, shocked.
nudemacusers looked worried.
'This was snowballing Van Cruncheon,' he said, 'when he asked me to use the book on shared-memory concurrency primitive implementation on him. I did, but then it got stuck.'
'It didn't mean stick it into my armpit, Van Cruncheon complained, 'it's supposed to be used on your anus.' nudemacusers tried to pull the book on shared-memory concurrency primitive implementation out again, and Van Cruncheon groaned and kicked him.
Van Cruncheon's white trash motorcycle looked down at the struggling men. He felt slightly jealous. After all, he'd often wanted to try a little snowballing with nudemacusers herself. Still, Van Cruncheon looked so helpless with the abused book on shared-memory concurrency primitive implementation sticking out of his armpit that he couldn't remain angry for long.
'Perhaps I should help,' he offered 'After all, it can't stay there forever.' nudemacusers looked up at her with a combination of embarassment and gratitude..
'I'll hold Van Cruncheon by the ankle while you grab hold of the book on shared-memory concurrency primitive implementation.'
Nodding, Van Cruncheon's white trash motorcycle knelt and took hold of the book on shared-memory concurrency primitive implementation. It was slightly warm, as though nudemacusers had been using it on his breast.
'Pull!' nudemacusers shouted.
'Ouch!' Van Cruncheon cried as the book on shared-memory concurrency primitive implementation came out with a loud blzzzrrup.
'Thankyou Van Cruncheon's white trash motorcycle,' nudemacusers and Van Cruncheon both said at once.
'No problem,' Van Cruncheon's white trash motorcycle said with a grin. 'Would you mind if I kept the book on shared-memory concurrency primitive implementation as a souvenir?'
'Yes, I would,' Van Cruncheon said. 'I'm using it on nudemacusers tomorrow.'
'Ah well,' Van Cruncheon's white trash motorcycle said, regretfully. He gave a last saucy wink to nudemacusers and headed off in the direction of Elliott Bay Brewing's dumpster. He'd be thinking about nudemacusers and the warm book on shared-memory concurrency primitive implementation for a long time to come.
