[ prog / sol / mona ]

sol


We don't need Codes of Conduct, period

12 2020-03-09 02:19 *

Richard Stallman stepped out into the room. We all screamed and giggled. I yelled "Richard! Richard! I love you Richard!" as I pushed my way to the front of the crowd. I held out my signed Gentoo liveCD and a felt tipped pen and begged Stallman to sign it. He looked at me with a twinkle in his eye. "What's your name?" he asked me. I choked. I couldn't say anything, I was so nervous! I opened my mouth to try to say something but I suddenly projectile vomited all over rms, covering him in half-digested white castle chicken rings. "I'm so sorry Mr. Stallman!" I said, on the verge of tears. "Don't worry about it, why don't you come back to my dressing room and help me get cleaned up?" It was a dream come true. "Of course I will, Mr. Stallman " I said. He led me back to his room and shut the door behind us. "So you didn't tell me your name yet," said rms. "Oh! I forgot! My name is Madeline!" I stammered. "Madeline, that's a very pretty name," said rms. I blushed bright red. "Would you like to help me change out of these clothes Madeline?" I dropped my Gentoo CD on the floor. I must have been dreaming, I thought. "Of course..."

I began to take off his stunning white leisure suit. I took off his coat jacket, then the floral collared shirt underneath it. I was face to face with Stallman's chiseled abs. He was covered in a thick black hair, the kind that you would find on a feral cat. He smelled distinctly of bear urine. "Have you ever been with an older man before?" he whispered softly.

I shook my head no. "Lick me," he said. I complied. I stuck my tongue out and began to lick his sweaty chest. It tasted like if you wiped your ass with a piece of salmon and then covered it in burnt hair. I was in heaven. I licked my way up to his left nipple, then his right nipple, then another nipple that was a few inches left of his right nipple. "Don't mind that," he whispered softly, "that's just my third nipple." By now he had a furious erection that stood out from his pants. "Let's go over to the couch," he said. "Okay..."

This was the moment I had been waiting for. Stallman lay prone on the couch, shivering softly. I began to unbutton his button fly. I slid his erection out from his underwear. It was immaculate. It looked like a burnt hot dog, all shriveled and blackened. His balls hung languidly bellow it, the scrotum covered in some sort of genital fungus. I noticed his peehole was located on the side of his penis, about two inches from the head. "Don't mind that, it's just my hypospadia." I began to suck. I don't know how long I sucked for, a minute, thirty seconds, ten seconds, seven seconds. It felt like a lifetime. It was pure bliss. Suddenly, he came in my mouth. I was surprised by it, and began choking. I fell backwards, splashing his golden yellow semen into my eyes. I was blinded and choking on the floor. I couldn't breathe.
Stallman began to hit me in the stomach with a bowling pin, hoping to dislodge the semen from my throat. He missed though and struck me in the back of the skull, dislodging my spinal cord and sending me into a coma. Stallman did the only honorable thing to do and stuffed me inside of a garbage bag and, thinking I was dead, throw me off of a bridge into the river. I eventually became entangled in a lobster pot and was brought ashore by a kindly fisherman. I'm a quadriplegic now and I no longer have any feeling from the neck down. But while my ability to function as a normal human being may be gone, the memories of that magical night will last for ever.

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