Cologne

J.Brent©1993

Somehow through Red the banjo player and his mate Tony, we met Finnbar the ham-fisted bodhran player. Finnbar was massive, a real man among men. Tatooed across his knuckles he had something or other like "FUCK PIGS", and if you ever got into a drunken brawl, better hope he was on your side. But he was the nicest guy you'd ever meet, he'd do anything to help you out.

So Finnbar told us about this party out in the country, and invited us out for a "wee session". It took us ages to find the place, and when we did find it, we couldn't believe there was a party going on, there were only a few cars parked around, the lights were down low, and there was no music. Weasel and me looked at each other and then said "Well, this is the place, might as well knock on the door".

The door opened up and sure enough there was Finnbar standing there saying "Fuck me boys, am I glad you showed up! We're dying a death in here." We looked around and there were only a few people there, but there was plenty of free beer, and if anybody could get a party going it was Weasel!

So we broke out the instruments, and Finnbar pulled out his bodhran. We were oblivious to the rest of the lot. Let me tell you about how your man Finnbar played: He put his all into his rhythm, there was no dancing around the beat, he went straight to the heart of the feel, with a respect and deep intuitive kind of groove that only years of experience and true love of the music can bring. There was no bullshitting with this guy, and the power that he added to the music forced us to play better than we thought we could.

Maybe you don't know what a bodhran is. Well, it's a kind of an open back drum, made with goatskin and a round frame with two crossbars, and you change the tension by pressing against the back of the skin with your hand. Finnbar's bodhran was a real beauty, and he could make that baby talk! Now bodhrans are thirsty instruments, you see you have to wet the goatskin regularly to get the proper tension, and he claimed his drank a pint of Guinness a day.

Not only did he play the bodhran, he also played the spoons like a master and the bones, too. When I asked him what kind of bones they were, he told me they were human shinbones. They didn't look like cow to me, but I'm no expert. When I said that it was a bit gruesome playing human bones, he explained that they were the only kind that had the right shape, feel, and sound for Irish folk, and besides "Ol' Paddy's fucking chuffed that he can still be with us making music and having a good old drunken bash!" Far be it from me to argue with Finnbar.

A few more people started to show, and we were having a hell of a good time. Between drinks and tunes we started noticing that there were some girls sitting next to us. At my side was a red-cheeked German country girl who Finnbar had affectionately dubbed "Good Ones". This was a play on her name, but in fact she really did have a pair of good boobs, yessiree bob! An handsome dark haired English lassie had her eyes on Weasel, and the prettiest little girl in the world was at Finnbar's feet.

By six in the morning everyone decided it was time to take a walk in the woods to admire the sunrise. Me and Good Ones ended up on the side of a grassy knoll where no one could see us. It took me what seemed ages to get her jeans off, and when I did get up inside her, it sure didn't take long for me to explode like a capped volcano, emptying my fullness filling her emptiness.

Back at the house, everybody was trying to catch a few winks before the madness began again. I tried to get it on with her a second time, but she flat refused because of all the other people in the room. Finally I managed to get a little sleep.

We were woken up by somebody pounding on the upstairs bathroom door. Weasel and the English girl Jill had barricaded themselves in there, after having spent the morning playing naked tag in the forest like some idyllic Adam and Eve fantasy. There were only two bathrooms in the house and somebody just couldn't wait.

I said fuck this noise and wandered around the house till I found some place quieter to ease my aching head. I figured if it was that hard to screw Good Ones on the side of the hill, and that it was impossible after we got back, that I might as well just cool out until Weasel felt like splitting.

I crawled into the big double bed in the master bedroom, and just as I was about to doze off, Weasel opened up the door and said "Hey, man I've been looking all over the place for you. What the fuck are you doing in here all by yourself?" I told him that I was waiting for the orgy to begin, then he said that you can't have an orgy all by yourself and shut the door.

I thought "Great, now I can get some sleep". But five minutes later, there was Weasel with a bottle of wine, a joint in his hand and the two girls. Good Ones asked what I was doing, and once again I said that I was waiting for an orgy, Weasel, as the master of ceremonies and still drunk from the night before, announced with a bacchanalian flourish "Then let the orgy begin!"

Good Ones came and started cuddling and kissing with me, and Weasel was doing his best to undress Jill. But she wouldn't have it. Jill said "Look, man, a joke is a joke, but I'm not going to take off my clothes unless she does". I figured that was going to be like trying to strike a match on a wet bar of soap, but still me and Good Ones kept on kissing. My thigh between her legs rubbing up her sweet patootie got ol' Good Ones so hot that suddenly she came slipping out of her clothes like peeling a ripe banana.

Once I'd completely undressed Good Ones, I said "OK, Jill. Remember what you promised!" And Weasel had Jill starkers before she could catch her breath. He was stuck up her like a rat up a sewer, and naturally me and my little cherub were also going at it sixteen to the bar, then Weasel went down on his bird, while Good Ones' cheeks flushed with raw lust watching the other two getting it on. When he finally came up for air, I started twiddling Jilly's sugar plum with my magic digits, still humping away at Gudrun. It's a wonderful high to have your knob in one girl while fingering another. I mean WOW!

Weasel plunked his dong into Good Ones' mouth, then I pulled out of her and climbed on top of Jill. I was amazed at the difference in the way their pussies felt inside! Good Ones' hole was tight and muscular and a little bit shallow, where Jill's was real juicy and as soft as liquid velvet. Lemme tell you Granpa, it ain't all pink on the inside!

It was flesh frenzy, Weasel and Good Ones 69ing, Jill and me humping and pumping. And then change partners again for the grand finale. Now, it was only gentlemanly of me to save my wad for my Teutonic temptress and oooo! I gave her heaps while Weasel and his British crumpet watched the whole "live show".

After everybody had kissed, kuddled, kum, and klimbed in the kar we kame to Köln. I went with Good Ones to her place, and Weasel and Jill went over to her flat. As it turns out, these girls were archaeologists (can you dig it?), and they spent most of their time up to their knees in mud scraping around for broken bits of pots. Down to earth, you might say.

The first thing Good Ones did when we got to her apartment was pour herself a gin. I personally hate the stuff, and the way it smells makes me sick (for that matter, I almost never drink wine either, I've never been able to understand what people see in it), oh well to each their own. The second thing that she did was to get naked and sit on my dick. We screwed all over her living room, and then she got down on her knees and sucked me off so pretty and sweet that when I came in her mouth I thought there had been an earthquake. It took me five minutes before I could even open my eyes again, the power of that orgasm shook me like thunder right down to my last molecule.

We figured we'd been dirty enough that day, and so we climbed into the bathtub together, and lo and behold I got a hard-on again! As they say "You can't keep a good man down", who needs a rubber ducky, anyway? Nothing like good clean fun to wash your cares away.

Just as I was cumming in Good Ones' soapy snatch, we heard the door open. Weasel and Jill came back with some more wine and their hearts full of good cheer. Well, we finished cleaning ourselves up in the bathroom, and when we came out, there was Weasel fucking Jill like crazy on the floor. We both pulled up a chair and enjoyed the performance (too bad there was no popcorn).

After a while he got his nut, and then he got off of her. There Jill was, just laying there with her eyes closed and her legs spread wide open. Now, if there's one thing I've always hated, it's having stuck my cock in a girl but not actually cum inside her. My prick was throbbing hard, so I dropped my drawers and stuffed my stiff up her before she even knew what was going on. When she opened her eyes, she was surprised that it was me. I banged her so hard that she had to hang on to Weasel for dear life, while Good Ones sat there watching the whole number. I humped her, and humped her, and humped her and when I finally squirted my semen into her overworked hole, I felt like I was going to collapse.

A couple of beers and a wee j soon cooled me out, and we all had a nice little German style "cheese and wine" dinner together. And then Weasel and Jill eventually made their way home in her VW.

Good Ones and me climbed into bed and it wasn't long before we were screwing again! We did it in all the positions that we'd left out in the earlier sessions, and it didn't take me long to cum. By this time I figured it wasn't humanly possible to even get hard, but my dick was a little bit abused from all the miles it had traveled that day, and so I politely asked my lady to soothingly suck me to sleep. Considering all the pleasure I'd given her during the last few hours, I didn't see any reason why she should refuse.

Ah, laying there after a hard day's work having a lovely relaxing blow job to take your mind off all your troubles! And the next thing I know the monster rises from the depths. She gets hot, starts tremelo jerking me and POW! she gets the back of her tonsils greased. After she licked me dirty, licked me clean, and tucked me back in, she said in her broken English "That's incredible! I never met anyone like you! Today you are 7" (In fact come to think of it, I've never met anyone like me either). And from that day, I was known as "7". Most people have nicknames - me, I have a nick-number.

 

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