Loony Burg


Me and Weasel were doing another one of our tours of Germany, when we happened to stumble across the little town of Luneburg. It isn't a very big town, but it sure is a crazy one. Down in the old section of town there are three bars right together. We had played the first two, but then in the third one the bartender told us we'd have to wait until the boss lady showed up to get permission.

There was a funky old harmonium in the corner, lots of antique junk and old signs all over the place. It had a really nice atmosphere. We had dinner there and after a while the boss lady turned up. Her name was Rosweeta, she was real nice looking and super friendly to Weasel.

Well, we played the bar and she gave us loads of drinks, and then told us we could sleep in her flat upstairs after they closed up. Weasel sure wanted her, and by every indication it was on.

We had a great little set and then just hung around to see what was going to happen. Finally, the three of us started making our way up the stairs, and that's when we noticed that Rosweeta was more than just a little drunk. We all went into her living room and started rolling up a j. She excused herself, and we sat there waiting for her to come back before we lit up. And we waited and we waited, and we waited.

She had passed out in the bog, and the door was firmly locked. We didn't want to leave her in there over night, she might catch a cold, and besides, Weasel was thinking about his end. Finally, we said to hell with it. Let her sleep in the fucking loo. And just about the time we were dozing, here comes your woman to bed.

So there were the three of us in her big bed. Weasel didn't waste any time getting stuck up her, but even though he was hard he couldn't get his nut. So he rolled off her and said to me, "Your turn". Well, she hadn't given me a second look all night, and since no other girls had looked my way either, I'd sopped up more than my fair share of beer figuring if I was going to sleep alone it didn't matter how drunk I got. But I figured I might as well take Weasel up on his hospitable offer.

She was so out of it, she probably didn't know which way was up, whether it was me or Weasel or who on top of her. Now, I had drunk so much that I couldn't get a hard-on at all, and I couldn't even hardly get my dick inside of her because it was so limp, but to my surprise - I came! And it felt great!

Before then, I didn't even think it was possible to have an orgasm without an erection! It was wierd, but enjoyable. So there was Weasel who could get a hard-on but couldn't come, and me who could come but couldn't get hard. Just like the Old Jack Sprat nursery rhyme or something.

After that Weasel had another try, bound and determined to get his end away in this semi-conscious female. After another twenty minutes or so of huffing and puffing, he finally gave it up.

In the morning, I was woken by the bed wiggling and shaking. Weasel was at it again, and this time she was conscious and definitely enjoying it. I had a great view of him slurping his shaft in and out of her cunny, and, in fact, she was a very foxy lady. But I had a hell of a hangover, and I didn't feel that I wanted to be invited to dip my wick in her again.

Well, Weasel finally got what he came for. And at that he promptly went off to the loo. That left me and her in bed together. I just got up and put on my clothes, and smoked a shaky cigarette. She made some tea and we just sat there at the table saying nothing until Weasel came back.

He felt great. And let everybody know about it. I couldn't wait to get the hell out, and I'll bet she was glad when we left too.

The next time we hit Luneburg, we went back to her bar but it had changed owners. It's not surprising, that's no way to run a business, is it?


copyright 2003 Jeff Brent

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