The story is written in collaboration with my friend Fred in Norway and is completely fictional. Ivar is a youngster of the writer's imagination, and so are the men he meets on his `educational journey'.
If any of our readers have comments and suggestions we are always happy for feedback. All emails to colin4men@gmail.com will be answered.
Can you imagine life without Nifty? Please show your support with contributions to keep the Archive online. You can find out how at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
Europe with Spartacus
Chapter 18 London (1975)
Ivar spend the next morning on a sightseeing trip using the Underground. The Spartacus Guide had pointed out some interesting gay pubs and clubs in the Soho area. He knew that he probably would be too young for the sex-shops and cinemas, and that the clubs would be for members only, but that was not his number one challenge just now. He guessed that his brother would like to visit Soho too, and Ivar wanted to take his brother to a gay pub to see his reaction. The guidebook had said that some of the gay-friendly pubs in the area where quite open, and looked from the outside to be a `neutral' meeting place for beer and male contact.
"Are you looking for something special, young man?" An elderly gentleman in worn-out clothes stopped beside Ivar who was studying a local street-map. Ivar had just walked to Old Compton Street and found many addresses from his guide.
"Thank you, sir. I'm just looking for some nice pubs around here," Ivar answered. "It's rather chilly, isn't it? I'm used to a warmer climate," he explained. The man did not leave.
"French, eh?" the man whispered. "I'd choose the pub at the corner there." He pointed out a pub with green walls and a Coat of Arms above the door. "Both youngsters and old gentlemen there!"
"Thank you, sir. Maybe I could offer you a pint?" Ivar felt sorry for the man who was poorly dressed for the cold wind.
"Should have been the other way around, young fellow; just half-a pint then. It's still early days." The older man entered when Ivar opened the heavy door. The two found a standing table. Again Ivar had the feeling that he was on stage; the nearest men in the bar watched his every move he made; grown up men, hunting men. He was pleased by the attention.
"I'm going to meet my brother in a couple of hours. He's a sailor and will have shore leave here in England during Christmas." Ivar emptied his glass after some minutes of small talk. "Nice to talk to you sir, and thanks for the information about the area here."
"Good to hear about your brother, young man. I was afraid you were alone. A lot of hunters here, you see." He looked around and placed a cold, dry hand upon Ivar's young one.
"Strange how the grandfathers pity me," Ivar thought. "Could have been old Andersen from Copenhagen!"
The old gentleman seemed to want his glass to last as long as possible. The pub was warm; better than the windy street outside. Ivar thanked him with a handshake and left. He hurried to the nearest tube station. The train to Tilbury, where his brother docked this morning, left from Fenchurch Street station, one of the smaller London railway stations near the Tower of London, the famous fortress and castle.
Ivar had to use all his charm to get into the dock area without a special pass, but since he knew the ship and brought his Norwegian passport, the security guard let him sign in.
Ivar saw the ship from some distance. Suddenly he was a bit stressed. He didn't know his brother very much anymore. They had been very close during childhood, but Ragnar had been at sea, on trawlers and merchant ships, and even twelve months in the navy. He had looked upon Ivar as a childish schoolboy when they met from time to time. Ivar had danced through his teenage years, while Ragnar had been into ice-hockey when at home.
The old cargo-liner was not a beauty but the name and the company were well known. Ivar felt a sort of pride having his brother on board.
Ragnar had spotted his brother from a distance. Now he bent over the railing, waved and shouted. "I'll be down in some minutes, Kiddo. I just have to get my permission papers!"
Ivar blushed. He wasn't very happy for the `kiddo' term, but he was used to it now. It had been worse when he was twelve and already had grown taller than his elder brother. He also blushed because his brother looked so damn sexy up there. With the dark hair shining with Brylcreem, he looked like James Dean. Ivar had a poster of the film star above his bed at home. The white smile, the bulging muscles and the macho look; Ivar had jerked off more than once staring at that picture.
Ragnar was suddenly on the gangway dressed in tight denims, boots and a dark pilot-jacket. He was carrying a small bag over one shoulder. Ivar was surprised when Ragnar met him with open arms and hugged him tight, and kept him tight.
"Good to see you, Kiddo. You look like an actor in that crazy coat, wow!" Ragnar studied his brother, then he hugged him again.
"Hi Bro! Happy you could get some days off, quite a long way to London though!" Ivar tried to get back his breath. "It's a long walk to the station, I envy you that jacket. Better for this wind."
"Bought it in Spain. We carry wine to England, coming from Bilbao. Crossed the Biscay in heavy wind!" Ragnar walked like an old sailor beside the more elegant Ivar.
"Nice girls down there?" Ivar asked. He used on purpose the question he was certain his brother would have asked if he hadn't got in first.
Ragnar grinned. "No free time in Spain, but plenty in Alexandria in Egypt two weeks ago. My balls are jerking, Kiddo! No sex since Egypt. You know Soho? The boatswain, Nick we call him, told us there were plenty of chicks around!" He grabbed his bulge and squeezed.
"Guess there are!" Ivar hurried through the gate.
"Nick has booked a hotel room for us in London. Three nights. I won't stay in that monastery of yours. You move in with me, okay?" Ragnar thumped Ivar's shoulder. "I have a note of the address. You know me, Kiddo. I'm hopeless on land. You must find this hotel."
"Tottenham Court Road," Ivar read. "Easy to find, and it's within walking distance of your whorehouse!"
"Don't be stupid, Kiddo. I'll find some real chicks here, I'm sure. Some happy tight ones for this monster." Ragnar squeezed his bulge again.
Ivar found the hotel without problems. The old lady at the reception desk was not the most service-minded person Ivar had met on his trip so far. "The man on the phone did not ask for a double!" She looked at Ivar with some suspicion.
"My brother stays with me. Find your passport, Kiddo!" Ragnar did not ask, just ordered, and the bitch produced a sort of smile when she checked the two names.
"I'm sure she thought I had picked up a call-boy," Ragnar said when they entered the lift.
"Maybe you have, Bro?" Ivar pushed the button. Seventh floor. The old open lift took ages to reach the correct floor.
"One bed, but really king-size. Long time since we shared a bed, eh? Room for a chick between us here." Ragnar threw away his bag, stripped off his pilot-jacket and jumped onto the bed. "I have some rum, bought in Bilbao. We'll take a drink, and then you can go for your backpack, okay!" He found a bottle of coke in the room-service fridge.
Ivar let Ragnar decide. He was very happy to move into the hotel, even if he had to share a bed. He hung up his coat and stretched out on the bed beside his brother.
The two acted like historic Romans, half laying, half sitting, among blankets and cushions drinking rum-and-coke. The chat between them was easy, both had a lot to tell.
"We have to call Mum!" Ragnar said suddenly. "She insisted about being told if we met."
"I'll call her from the YMCA," Ivar said. "Cheaper than this horrible hotel-phone.
"Have one more, Kiddo!" Ragnar mixed another drink. "I need a shower before we conquer London." He jumped out of bed and stripped out of his t-shirt and jeans. Ivar tried to concentrate on the drink, but the body in front of him was very interesting. It was a long time since he had seen his brother naked and he tried not to stare. To Ivar's surprise, Ragnar had a sports-thong under his tight denims, and the pouch was well-filled.
"No more clean briefs!" Ragnar grinned. "I have to buy some new ones. But you like my thong, don't you?" He pulled down his jockey-gear and threw it at his brother. "Nice to wank your baby-cock wearing these, eh? Just smell them, Kiddo. You like my scent, don't you? Sniff your brother's sweat, piss and cum. A bit pervy but we tease each other among the crew too, so you are not the only one."
Ivar blushed, but said nothing. He was surprised that Ragnar knew about his habit. He took the thong and put it in front of nose and mouth, sniffed and licked, then he made a ball out it and threw it back; hard! Ragnar was faster. He turned aside. The `ball' hit the reading lamp.
"You need more training, Kiddo. Cheers!" He lifted his glass. Totally nude, with a fully-grown cock and large balls, he knew he looked good. And he knew that Ivar liked what he saw. Ragnar's dick was larger than Ivar's when flaccid, but compared to Ivar's 19 cm (7.5 inches) he was a bit smaller when erect. Because of Ivar's long foreskin Ragnar had called his younger brother's a `baby-cock' during puberty, not nice for a young teenager.
Ragnar grabbed his cock and scratched his balls; very macho. He turned around and went to the bathroom. Ivar had to make some adjustments to his erection that was about to pop out of the low-cut jeans.
"Damn! No shower here. Just a bathtub. Okay, will you scrub my back then, Kiddo?" Ragnar shouted.
Ivar knew he should have left for his backpack now, but he waited until he heard that the tub was filled up. He pulled off his socks and entered the bathroom. Ragnar closed his eyes when Ivar started to scrub him. The younger one was not comfortable. His boner betrayed him, and Ragnar's body was hard and fit. He lifted his arms and Ivar took the signal. He soaped and washed his brother's sweaty, hairy armpits.
"Do my bum as well, Kiddo. You are great!" Ragnar went up on his knees showing his round hard buttocks, dripping with soap and water. The cock that broke through the water surface was red and swollen. Ivar swallowed. He was not ready to go on. The drinks had made him warm and the whole situation was erotic, but his own brotherÉno.
"Wash your own ass, stupid!" Ivar spanked the waiting buttocks. Water splashed all over the bathroom. Ivar's front was hit too, and the almost see-through t-shirt hid nothing. Red-faced he went up to the toilet, pulled down his briefs and tried to piss. After a while he succeeded. The yellow stream filled the bowl. Ragnar grinned when Ivar turned around and faced him.
"Think we have to find two girls Kiddo, or maybe we could share one. Student discount, you know!" Ragnar did nothing to cover up in front of his blushing brother. Ivar hurried out of the bathroom.
"Please wait for me, Bro! I'll be back as soon as possible!" Ivar shouted.
"Forty five minutes later Ivar was back, carrying his huge backpack. Ragnar was sitting in the reception bar, chatting with three girls. He raised his glass when Ivar arrived. "Meet my virgin brother!" Ragnar shouted. "He will show me Soho tonight!"
Ivar answered with a very direct, "Hey!" and lifted one hand in a salute, as he went for the lift.
"Sexy bum, kid!" one of the screaming girls shouted. Ivar hated screaming girls so he was happy to leave the party behind.
Ivar changed into evening clothes. He had found his black leather jacket, a bit crushed after the stay in the backpack, but not too bad. "I must buy some new clothes tomorrow," he thought, trying to pull a pair of low-cut jeans back into shape.
"What happened to your brides?" Ivar found Ragnar alone in the bar with a new drink.
"Damn chicks!" Ragnar sneered. "Only here for free drinks!"
"Okay Bro, forget them. There are hundreds waiting for sexy guys like us," Ivar said as he thumped his brother's shoulder.
"Yeah, Kiddo. You are the right one to talk, eh? Never had a chick in your knickers!" Ragnar grinned, but put a loving arm around his shoulder. "Let's have some real beef now. I'm starving!"
Ivar easily found his way back to Old Compton Street. He had seen a steakhouse across the street from the gay pub he had visited with the old gentleman that morning.
The meal was superb. The two brothers were happy together, sharing events and stories. Ragnar paid for the two, and Ivar invited him for a real pint at the pub on the opposite side of the road. No visible signs telling that this was a gay pub, but if you looked carefully you would see that a lot of the men inside looked at every newcomer with special interest.
Ivar found a table with stools. "I'll buy us some real ale, eh? You keep the seats, bro!" Ivar was excited when he walked up to the bar. He felt the guys' eyes as if they tried to strip him.
He was back after some queuing, and found Ragnar close to a guy in leather. No other seats were left. "Meet Aron!" Ragnar said. "He's into veteran cars. And find yourself another stool!" Ivar handed Ragnar the pint, gave Aron a tight handshake and looked around. Seconds later three men made room for him at another table. The Viking had been used to male interest during the last half year, and he dived into the small group with an open mind and a flirting mood.
"Nice of you to take care of Old Ben this morning!" one guy said. "You made his day. Not often he has company with youngsters anymore."
"Fine guy! He had a lot to tell about the area here. You know him, all of you?" Ivar watched their faces.
"We all grew up around here; Ben and his mates took care of us. Now he's the last one! Ten years ago and he would had been in your knickers, boy!" One of the others lifted his glass and cheered the newcomer.
The next hour was a dream for an eighteen years old lad that enjoyed being at the centre of guys' attention. They bought him beers, patted him on the butt, rubbed his thighs and listened to his stories. Even when he went to the toilet, with a long, old-fashioned urinal, one or two followed him and watched and showed off their weapons. But Ivar was not for sale, not that night. From time to time he had some glimpses of his brother, totally occupied with the fellow dressed in black leather. He saw that his brother was into a deep conversation, but he also saw that this Aron in a way played with Ragnar's body, but in a very discreet manner. Ragnar looked very happy with the situation even if the room was free of ladies.
The bell rang for the second time. Ivar smiled at his drinking companions. He was pleased to be invited to return another day and went up to find Ragnar.
The two brothers shared a bed for the first time in years. They had walked back to the hotel, both of them quite pissed after too many beers, but happy with their own company. Some offers had been rejected, and even the three girls, now back in the front bar, were passed without any sign of interest from Ragnar. Ivar, who had slept naked as long as he could remember, had kept his tiny briefs on. Ivar tried to lie down close to the edge of the bed but it was very uncomfortable.
"Don't be afraid, Kiddo, I'm not going to rape you!" Ragnar used an arm and helped Ivar closer.
"Did you like Aron? He seemed very friendly," Ivar asked.
"An interesting man," Ragnar answered. "He collects cars and motor bikes. He owns an old garage out in Greenwich and he invited me to visit him tomorrow."
"Will you go?" Ivar suddenly sounded a bit jealous.
"Only if you don't mind, Kiddo. I thought you planned to visit Carnaby Street tomorrow, and that's not my thing as you know." Ragnar had turned his front to Ivar and looked at his face and fair hair in the light from the streetlamp outside. He placed one arm around his brother's bare upper body and pulled him closer. Nothing was said. The bodies touched now. Ivar was stressed and breathed heavily. His boner was growing.
"You are a cocksucker, Kiddo?" Ragnar suddenly asked. The question was followed by silence. Ivar felt that Ragnar's hand rested on his belly, very close to the waistband of his underwear.
"Did you suck any of the guys in the bar today? Or do you only suck your boss at home?" Ragnar was close to Ivar's neck. Ivar did not move away.
"How do you...? Ivar turned his body to Ragnar who cupped Ivar's stiff cock outside the thin gear.
"All the lads in the street have sucked him, Kiddo. One round, one 10-pack of cigarettes or a cinema ticket." Ragnar let his fingers work.
"Have youÉ?" Ivar couldn't believe that his macho brother has been sucking the hotel-director for tobacco.
"Since I was twelve! But I stopped when I met girls, you see. I'm not a faggot!" Ragnar squeezed his brother's balls.
"That's a dirty word, Bro! I don't knowÉ" Ivar let Ragnar pull down his briefs. He felt Ragnar's working hands find his wet erection.
"Dad called you a faggot when Mum found your magazines after you left," Ragnar whispered again.
"What magazines? You mean the wrestling magazines? The ones Trym's brother brought from New York? More innocent than dad's `Cocktail' mags, I think!" Ivar was furious and tried to get free from Ragnar's hand.
"Cool down, Kiddo. Take it easy. More male sex on a hockey tour among my mates than what is shown in those posing mags!" Ragnar pulled Ivar as close as he could, and made him relax. Ragnar found Ivar's hand and placed it on his own wet cockhead. Ivar swallowed deeply and let his brother's stiffy fill his fist.
"I want you to suck me, Kiddo. I want you to blindfold me and make me believe that you are the black whore I had in Alexandria. She was great, really great. She sucked me dry night after night. Go on Kiddo, don't be shy. Pretend I'm Trym! You would have sucked him if he was here, I'm sure!" Ragnar pulled away the blanket. He was completely naked. His black pubic hair ended in a trail below his navel. The hairy balls were warm and hard when Ivar touched them, and the thick 18 cm (just over 7 inch) cock with a naked cockhead, was very inviting.
Ivar pulled his briefs all the way off and placed them like a helmet around Ragnar's head and face. Ragnar sniffed with pleasure and spread his legs. Ivar spat on the already wet cockhead and used his tongue to play with the piss-slit, the string and the small creek that divided the cockhead in two very visible parts. The 21 year old sailor was back in Alexandria, and young Ivar tried to recall his mate's body from some warm nights last summer.
Ragnar was far away. He didn't really give his younger brother much pleasure. This was one-way job for Ivar, who really felt like a whore, but suddenly things changed. The forceful sailor lifted Ivar and turned him around, found his leaking cock and sucked it like crazy. In a 69 position the two bodies fought; they fought to the very end. Ragnar filled Ivar's mouth with his spunk and Ivar drenched Ragnar's face and upper body with boy-milk. Ragnar used the briefs to clean himself, but Ivar had nothing left. He ate every drop and liked it.
"You ate my spunk, Kiddo? Ronaldo does that too!" Ragnar was about to leave for the bathroom.
"Who's Ronaldo?" Ivar asked full of surprise regarding his brother.
"He's our pantry-boy! Comes from The Philippines. Cute lad. Sucks for cigarettes and liquor. Good service!" Ragnar pissed in the bowl still with the door open.
"You were better Kiddo, but not as good as the chick in Alexandria. Her clit was like your cock Ivar, and she sprayed like you." Ragnar, still pissing, turned his head to Ivar. "We must find you a girl tomorrow, Kiddo. I don't think you are homo. You just pretend to make yourself interesting, don't you?"
Ivar closed his eyes. He was so tired. He didn't even go to the bathroom and he let his briefs stay on the floor. When Ragnar finished, Ivar was already asleep. The elder brother lay down as close to Ivar as possible and spooned against him. With free hands he touched Ivar's body, his nipples, his belly, his shaved pubic area and his thighs. Then he cupped the growing cock. Ivar moaned in his sleep at the touch. Ragnar pushed his own new erection between Ivar's crack. Then he went to sleep too.
The two woke up in the morning as close as when they had fallen asleep the night before.
"Good to see you, brother! Nice to know you better!" Ivar grinned at Ragnar, still far away in dreamland. "Pull away your morning wood! I need to piss."
"I am invited to the Norwegian seamen's church this afternoon for Christmas Eve celebrations," Ragnar said when Ivar was back. "I hope you will attend with me!"
"Of course, I will. But you are to see your new friend out in Greenwich, aren't you?" Ivar tried to find some clothes in the small room.
"I will! We meet back here at five, okay, and you must find the way to the church for us." Ragnar went close to Ivar and hugged him. "We have a secret, Kiddo, haven't we?"
"Brothers always have, don't you think?" Ivar pulled his brother very tight.
To be continued.