Full...and yet...something to be desired

I just finished a rather rigorous workout at the JCC, and enjoyed a nice steaming and whirlpool with my comrades. However, the sauna was not to be tonight. Why? Well, a small, presumably Russian (could have been Prussian (is Prussia still a nation)) man within the wooden confines of the 200 plus degrees fahrenheit room told us that we could not enter. His reason? We were clothed. To quote the man. "No, no you not come in here. You wear the clothes, you must no clothes. You breathe this, you see." I think the message the chap was trying to convey was that everything within the room is vaporized and inhaled, and he didn't want to inhale the scent of our pants, possibly implying that we were dirty. But this got me thinking. Would he rather be taking a big whiff of my ballsack and butthole instead? Apparently, affirmative on this notion: he was residing in a position in which his own were undoubtedly being inhaled with every breath.

It was a strange situation indeed, but not the first, nor the last I will encounter at the J. Afterward, I decided to join Steinberg at one of the local grubberies, Township Grille. Their wings are cheap and delicious, as they should be. Steiny and I had us a feast, polishing approximately thirty wings and a couple hefty orders of fries between us. At the conclusion of this glorious meal, my comrade had consumed his fill, and remarked that he was thoroughly satisfied: "It's settlin nicely." I, however, felt as though I could still use a bit more. "I came here to get full, yet my tank's approximately only a quarter full," I remarked. I tried munching on the celery, but Steinberg informed me that it was "Pretty much all water, just gonna make you more hungry." So I abandoned the crunchy, green stalks. We made our way to my car to smoke a stoge, and all I could think about was how I needed more food. I pondered this throughout my smoke, and on the ride home, nearly rear-ending a bright red Volkswagen Golf, then passing it and looking inside at the beautiful blonde with large, supple breasts and wishing I could rear-end her. I got home and gave the cabinets their usual rummaging, but couldn't find anything that I fancied. So hear I sit, rather hungry, quite horny, and, now that I think about it, extremely tired. So I shall hit the hay.

Update 10:06 p.m.
Mark horniness off the list. Good night.