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'.
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Europe with Spartacus
Chapter 21 York (1984)
Ivar had looked forward to the opening of the new Jorvik Viking Centre in York nine years after his first visit to England. As a 27 year old academic, he was one of the Norwegian delegates to the splendid occasion.
Now he had escaped from the hotel and the formal dinner, and found the pub where he had stayed during his first visit in 1975. He found a free table and watched the man behind the bar. Robby, for sure, and he hadn't changed much. His hair was a bit thinner perhaps, and his face more lined, but he still had those smiling brown eyes. Ivar went up to the bar and asked for a pint of the local brew. He was met by a huge grin.
"Good to see you back, old chap! Nine years since you get drunk down here, eh? Nine years since you danced until morning." He opened the bar and hugged Ivar tight. "I've been looking for you. I saw your name on the guest list. You haven't changed. Well, you are dressed like a gentleman now, not a hippie any more, butÉ" He hugged Ivar again.
"I've looked forward to this visit, and I hoped to see you and your parents." Ivar's eyes searched the room.
"Mum and Dad have a small country home now. They take care of our kids while Agnes runs the kitchen here. You remember Agnes, eh? I shocked you bringing her when you thought you had a date with me, remember?" Robby was teasing his Norwegian visitor.
Ivar blushed. What should he say? What Robby said was the truth.
Robby turned around, opened the door to the kitchen and gave some orders. A youngster entered. "Look after business for a while, Dick, and close down at eleven as usual. I'll show this guest around. And please drive Agnes home for me. Tell her I'll be late!" Robby put an arm around Ivar and led him to the stairs. They didn't stop at the guest-room this time. Robby pushed Ivar further upstairs to the attic, into a small but cosy room. He found a whisky bottle and poured Ivar and himself two well-filled glasses.
"Why didn't you come to the attic that night, Ivar? I waited for you." Robby tried to look sad.
"You never invited me Robby, you said Agnes was your only one." Ivar nipped the glass.
"But I told you I slept up here, didn't I? And you called my name when you fucked yourself with this!" Robby pulled something from the side table. He handed Ivar the black conical dildo, the one he had bought in Copenhagen when was eighteen.
A shocked Ivar was almost speechless, but he managed to smile. "So you found it, eh? I always wonderedÉ"
"Better than if my Mum had found it when you left, don't you think? I've had a lot of pleasure with that black cock!" Robby grinned.
"But you heard me, you said? HowÉ" Ivar blushed again.
"Old doors, my friend. Old doors. Nice, nice! How is you buddy Trym, by the way? You called his name while you fucked yourself too, remember?"
"A long story!" Ivar said. "The short version is that he was my best man when I got married, but we still play games from time to time."
"As you did with the best man at the stag party down in the pub that night." Robby grinned. "He came to your room, I heard!"
"The groom too. Robby. He had a hot threesome on his last night of freedom, during a hot stag party! Cool, eh? I was young at that time and could manage." Ivar lifted the glass and emptied it.
"You are still young Ivar, and handsome, and damn sexy!" Robby went in front of Ivar and helped him off with his formal jacket, tie and white shirt. "Please show me if you still shave you balls, Viking."
Ivar smiled, and helped Robby with the trousers. "We don't need this substitute, do we?" He cupped Bobby's very visible boner and threw the dildo aside.
"We don't, Viking, as long as you offer me this Viking weapon!" Robby put both fists around Ivar's 19 cm (7.5 inch) super hard cock, which was wet like a teenager's.
Ivar placed his hands around Robby's neck and found his lips in a wet, hard and long-lasting kiss.
Robby needed air and gasped. "But Agnes!" he said. Then he smiled. "Let's forget about our shields tonight, Ivar. I'm all yours tonight. Please undress me. I've been horny since I saw your name on the visitors list!" Robby helped Ivar with the strip and soon both men were as naked as they were when they changed for the swimming competition nine years earlier.
Ivar knelt in front of Robby and for the first time he studied the cock he had dreamt about. Not the biggest, but a sexy mushroom shape ended the super hard tool. He grinned and looked up. "So you have started shaving too!" Ivar stated, cupping the smooth balls.
"Have you finished your inspection, Viking? Suck me or I'll spit my load in your face!" Robby was dripping pre-cum and Ivar licked with great pleasure. Shortly afterwards he pushed the pub host down on the comfortable sofa, turned around and then fed him his own hard weapon.
"Who needs a cock the most?" Robby asked. "I haven't had a real cock inside my arse for ages. Please, will you?" In a hurry he bent over the sofa, spread his legs and opened his love entrance. Ivar inspected with fingers and tongue.
"You are no damn virgin, Yorkie! The black one has done a good job, I see!" Ivar took the lube Robby offered him. The church tower struck ten.
The next time Ivar heard the church tower, it struck five. All night the two men at their best fucking age, sucked, fucked and spunked. Now the two were close to exhausted, flaccid and with dry balls for the first time in hours.
"I can't wait another nine years for your Viking cock," Robby said, still lying naked with spread legs on the sofa.
The well-dressed Ivar went up to him and kissed him lightly. "I have to get back to the hotel before breakfast," he said. "But maybe I will see you at the lunch-break tomorrow?" He didn't wait for an answer. He simply opened the door and hurried down from the attic.
York Ð Blackpool - Edinburgh (1975)
Both Robby and Agnes accompanied Ivar to the railway station. Ivar had been served a huge pub lunch by Robby's mother and the local beer had tasted good after the tough night at the stag-party.
"Wish I could follow you to Blackpool!" Robby said. "It's one big party around this time of the year. Watch out for the Scottish girls coming down in search of youngsters like you." He pinched Ivar's butt.
"Don't listen to him!" Agnes blushed. "But take care of your money. Casinos up there, you know."
"I'm not a gambler, not regarding girls or money!" Ivar smiled as he lifted his backpack decorated by the Norwegian flag. The train pulled into the station and Ivar gave Agnes a very formal hug. Then the two boys hugged a bit tighter than normal protocol allowed. Away from Agnes' sight, Ivar gave the blushing Robby a wet kiss on his neck. Then he hurried onto the train, found a free seat, and waved to the smiling couple on the platform. "Strange!" he thought. "I always seem to fall in love with the wrong boys."
Ivar found his Spartacus Guide and he opened his railway map. There were a few direct trains to Blackpool but rather than wait Ivar had chosen a service with an easy connection in Manchester.
"You have to change at Manchester Piccadilly, young man." The elderly conductor smiled at the polite young man. "Platform 14 there for the line to Blackpool," he continued.
Not many backpackers on the train at this time of the year, but the old carriages of the local train to Blackpool were filled with shouting and already partying youngsters on their way to pre-New Year celebrations in the party capital of the North West. He opened the guidebook again and tried to decide where to go and what to do.
"The UK's most popular holiday resort. A golden beach, piers, tower, 11 roller-coasters and vibrant gay nightlife Ð Blackpool has it all." The Spartacus Guide told Ivar. He read about bars and hostels, and a very special sauna. "All nude night!" he read. "It is Thursday today...so..."
The train pulled into Blackpool North. Ivar left and looked for the tram. He had read about the tramline which following the seashore. His plan was to look for a hostel or a cheap hotel not so far from the famous piers and the area with most of the gay bars. The Spartacus Guide had many addresses. Ivar pulled his jacket tight. "Golden beach?" he thought. "Not this time of the year!" The wind was cold. "Sauna will be perfect, I'm sure!"
Ivar had thought that all the cars on the tramline would be the double-decker vintage ones, so he was a bit disappointed when he entered the rather ordinary single deck car.
"You should change at the South Pier young man and try an illuminated tour in an old tramcar. Oh, and it's better to buy ahead. Lots of people tonight though; special illuminations tonight, you see, because of New Year." The tram driver was happy to help Ivar with all his questions. "You're a French lad?" The man was curious.
"Why do you think I'm French? Ivar asked. "Not many blond French around!"
"Your accent, and the way you use your hands, as if you are painting." The man stopped to let new passengers enter. "And your hot outfit. You look like a model, handsome."
Ivar blushed. "Goodness!" he thought. "The first man I meet in Blackpool is flirting with me, and he drives the tram!"
"No sir, I'm Norwegian and I'm just on a short visit. Must find a room, but I have an address!" Ivar showed the man a piece of paper.
"I knew it!" The man talked to himself.
"What did you say, sir? The tram is so noisy." Ivar looked at the grinning man.
"Well, nothing, son. Nothing. I know that place. Good place. You should leave at the Blackpool Tower stop, then walk four blocks east. Have a good time in Blackpool. You will love it, I'm sure!" The man gave Ivar a bright smile before he had to take care of the passengers waiting to board behind Ivar.
The late afternoon was cold. Ivar shivered a little when he waved off the driver. The man saluted with a hand to his uniform cap. He looked more a general than a tram driver.
"Charming man!" Ivar thought. "I seem to trigger all the daddies around!" He gave some thoughts to Archie who he was to date in some days.
One pound fifty and he had bought a so-called illumination trip on a vintage double-decker later in the evening. It was close to sunset when he entered the small hotel, and was welcomed by an old-fashioned doorbell.
"All the rooms have gone young man!" The white-haired man with a ruddy complexion saw that Ivar was disappointed. "Well, except for a room behind the front desk here. It's a bit small and you'll likely hear some noise from the pub, but you can rent it cheaply. You'll have to use the bathroom in the corridor...and take breakfast in the pub."
Ivar was happy with the room and paid 6 pounds for two nights. He didn't know when he would leave for Edinburgh. He only knew that he was to meet Archie in Glasgow Jan 3rd but he would love a New Year celebration in the Scottish capital. Now he smiled when he saw the bed. It was not built for a Norwegian Viking who was 1.88 cm (6ft 2in) tall. When he lay down he had to put his feet on the windowsill, and be careful not to break the single glass.
The illuminated tram tour was a dream, apart from all the screaming girls. But he was comfortable with all the youngsters, even if he had some trouble with the accents. Two redhead youngsters were sitting beside him. They told him that the student group was from the Glasgow area. They also told him that even people from England had trouble with the Glasgow accent.
Ivar was sorry when the tour ended. He suddenly felt very lonely so when the two guys asked him to accompany them to the amusement park, he was very happy to accept.
At the top of the Ferris wheel the two youngsters kissed, mouth to mouth, arms finding young bodies. Ivar was a little embarrassed. He did not want to be an uninvited voyeur.
"Did we shock you, Norwegian?" One of the guys was close to Ivar. The three sat side by side. "I love this guy, you see." He had a hand on his friend's upper leg.
"And I love him, a lot!" The other commented and put a hand on top of his friend's.
"Why should I be shocked? I have seen you two admire each other from the first minute. I wasn't sure if you were lovers or just mates, and it's not my business. Thought you Scottish lads were shy though? What you did is illegal in Scotland, isn't it?" Ivar tried to be serious. The Ferris wheel started again on the way down.
"That's why we are here. If we were seen kissing at school back home, we would probably be expelled, and if somebody saw us in bed together, we could be reported to the police." The speaker among the two looked angry.
"Well, that's horrible!" Ivar said. "How can true love be illegal, as long as you both agree? Any of your family know about your feelings?"
"My grandpa caught us in bed making love when we were visiting his cottage!" The boy who said that grinned. The wheel started on another round. "He wished us all the best, and said he knew the situation too well. He has never told anybody." The two kissed again while hands played with bulging crotches.
"Tunnel of Love next!" The two boys found Ivar's hands and hurried on in the cold weather.
"No!" the other shouted. "Let's take the Ghost Train. Longer and darker ride. Come on, Viking! Not afraid of ghosts, are you?"
Seconds later the small carriage had entered the dark tunnel, and Ivar felt wet lips on his own. At the same time a hand tried to free his stiff cock from the tight jeans. With his own help, the guy succeeded. He swallowed the cock while squeezing Ivar's balls. Ivar's moaning was hardly heard through the heavy noise in the tunnel. When one guy used nails on his nipples Ivar screamed, but with lust rather than pain. Ivar was technically raped by the two Scottish students and he loved every moment of it.
The ride in the dark tunnel ended too quickly, and Ivar had problems getting his stiffy into the pants. The two lads covered him and pushed him through a door by the exit. Three horny youngsters were inside a small toilet. Without asking, the two red-heads, both a bit shorter than Ivar, knelt in front of him and stripped him. Quick satisfaction in a public toilet was not Ivar's plan for the evening, but these lads knew their tongue business. He was about to cum. Fingers, tongues and lips worked on his iron-hard 19 cm (7.5 inches), while the two wanked their own dicks. Ivar did not think. He just let them go on. His last spunking had been in bed with the groom and his best man last night in York, and he had been hard since he met the lads on the tram.
Three students were pressed together in a small public toilet. Not a word was said, but the hand action and the mouth action was wild. The two pressed Ivar down on the toilet seat and pointed two wanking cocks against his face. Ivar knew what was coming. Two wanking nice-looking cocks surrounded by carrot-coloured hair started to cum simultaneously and shot their white loads into Ivar's wide-open mouth, on his forehead, on his nose and on his t-shirt.
The two hurried down on their knees again ready to catch Ivar's load. Just some hard jerks later and he was done. Alone he shot a lot more than the two young loads. The strange position and the wild wank made Ivar's boy-milk hit the door and the walls, and some landed on the two freckled grinning faces.
Nothing was said, but when the two lads were about to end the show, Ivar felt very dirty. "Clean me, fuckers! No paper! Eat me! Every single drop!" he said. The two Scots blushed, but went on and ate every wet spot.
"And my cock!" Ivar forced the two down on their knees again and gave the two his still hard cock. This quickie was not enough for the Norwegian Viking, just a dirty aperitif. The two did not hesitate, but finished the job like two school-kids, who had received an order.
Ivar had no trouble finding the entrance to the sauna even though the door signs were hard to see in the dark street.
"Free entrance for juniors on Thursdays." The man behind the desk, dressed only in a sports jock, handed Ivar towels and slippers. "Nude youngsters are good for business!" The athletic guy in his thirties had a welcoming smile. After undressing and making a visit to the bathroom, Ivar found the shower area. Six or seven men, all in their sixties or seventies, watched him with interest. He did not complain, and he did not hide any parts of his body. Soaping his crotch and cleaning his lower parts were done without shyness. He even pulled back his foreskin from the half-hard dick and washed the cockhead and the furrow without turning his back to the many voyeurs. When using two fingers for a final cleaning of his boy-cunt, he closed his eyes and let his cock stiffen.
With the towel over his shoulder, Ivar entered the hot-pool room. There was a cold-water pool there as well, but the temperatures and the wind outside had chilled Ivar. He longed to relax in the hot-water tub. The air-bubble system was off so the room was very calm, with just some oriental music in the background. A man, very hairy, in his fifties Ivar guessed, had his eyes closed. Opposite him in the pool were two young lads who could be twins. Their faces suggested they were about twelve but since there had been an `Over 18's only' sign by the entrance Ivar guessed they were of high-school age. The two were sitting very close, possibly one was sitting on the other's lap.
Ivar let his body slip into the water. He had to adjust his legs when he touched the youngsters. Both of them smiled, and he saw that both had braces for teeth correction.
"Sorry, guys. I hope there is room for one more!" Ivar moved closer to the hairy gentleman who opened his eyes.
"New blood, I see." He welcomed Ivar with a hard fist. "Make yourself comfortable." A light stream of air made small teasing bubbles from the bottom. Not easy to see, but no doubt the two youngsters were playing with each other, and the man seemed to have a tight grip around a huge tool.
Ivar closed his eyes and tried to relax. `No sex in the tubs!' The poster on the wall was very clear. Suddenly he felt a touching of his crotch. The youngsters' play had turned into giggling and diving. A stern look from the man was enough to calm them. They hurried out of the pool, water dripping from their smooth hairless bodies. Two small cocks were like wooden sticks, and their balls were hanging free after the hot water treatment. Ivar had to admit, they looked as if they came from a classic painting of angels. Now they hurried upstairs hand in hand. Ivar could have moved away from the man, but he didn't. "Cute lads!" the man commented. "They do shows here every Thursday. Free entrance and free poppers, you see!"
"Shows?" Ivar was still `far away', close to dreamland.
"The lads are good suckers...and fuckers as well...but strange guys. Not for sale!" The man changed position. A hairy leg touched Ivar. He did not move. A hand followed the touch and was placed on Ivar's inner thigh.
"Are you for sale?" the man whispered.
"Yes, I am!" Ivar answered.
"How much?" The man let his hand cup Ivar's balls. Ivar spread his legs.
"What do you want to buy, sir?" Ivar's voice was husky when the man wrapped his fist around Ivar's super-hard dick.
"The full package!" The man wanked him.
"No sex in the tubs!" Ivar grinned and pointed at the poster.
"Massage is not sex!" he said. "You like massage, don't you?" The man rubbed Ivar's foreskin and glans, then played with his piss-slit and string.
"I have to piss, sir. Be careful or I might piss in the pool. I'm just a baby, you see!" Ivar jumped from the pool and left waves behind.
"Public pissing in the old toilet upstairs if you want to be seen, or there's a more private one behind the showers." The man pointed at the bathroom Ivar knew. Ivar hurried upstairs. He passed a sort of bar, and found an arrow pointing to the toilet. The small room was filled with people, all naked. Ivar saw the urinal; no real wall behind the trough, just glass. Onlookers could follow the business from all sides, even have a frontal view. He had to piss, so he just went up to the trough and hoped his stiff cock would work. Nothing happened.
"Can I help you, kid?" The man from the pool stood behind him. His half-hard huge cock started to spray, and Ivar relaxed enough to release a yellow stream. He looked at the man who wanked his huge cock when he was finished pissing. The man had a green and black tattoo of a thistle on his pubic area, all the way down his cock root.
Ivar noticed movements in the crowd. Nearly all the men present gathered in the inner part of the room. A bodybuilder figure lifted one of the kid-like youngsters Ivar had seen in the pool and placed him on top of a wooden bench. Another helper spread the youngster's legs and greased his hairless arse with cream. The second young lad was pushed forward. With well-practiced movements he penetrated his friend with a short, but super-hard cock. The boy on the bench howled while his mate fucked him like a rabbit. One of the men opened a box of poppers and let him sniff again and again. His young body curled like a feather. The youngster acting as the top began sniffing as well, and his actions speeded up. Minutes later the show changed. The fucking guy was placed doggy on the bench, and after a new round of sniffing he was the one subjected to a rabbit-fuck.
Ivar felt a stiff cock near his arse crack. Instead of turning away Ivar opened up. He could feel a hot cockhead against his boy-cunt. He also felt hairy arms around his upper body, and a mat of hair teased his back.
"Have you set a price?" the man who just had pissed beside him whispered close his ear.
"Free entrance for a Scot!" Ivar grinned and whispered back.
"How do you know I'm a Scot?" The man spat on his fingers and found Ivar's entrance.
"The thistle!" Ivar answered. Seconds later he opened his cunt and the man forced his cockhead inside him. Since the man was a bit shorter than him the entrance was quite easy, but the intense pain filled Ivar's eyes with tears. The hairy arms lifted him closer. After a while the pain changed to heat.
"You want some of this?" The bodybuilder had opened a new popper bottle and placed it if front of Ivar's face.
"Fuck, no! I'm not into drugs!" Ivar's voice was clearly heard in the room. Nothing but mumbling followed, in addition to the two fucking youngsters' theatrical sounds. One was now wanking his little stiffy to a piss-like eruption all over his mate's body.
"Let's move upstairs, bonnie lad!" The man withdrew his cock from Ivar's arse and took his hand.
The small room they entered was dark, open by holes to three sides, and had a comfortable floor mattress.
"You want the full package, you said! Still want my cock?" The Scot let Ivar kneel and presented him a hard and thick veined cock, probably 25 cm (almost 10 inches). Ivar had no problems showing his new admirer his sucking skills. He swallowed and used his fist to dry the wet eyes after the hard mouth-fuck.
"Please fuck me now, sir. Please bring me to heaven. Let me cum, sir. Take me hard. I want it hard, really hard." Ivar turned around and placed himself doggy.
"No, laddie! I want to see you, all of you!" He found a cushion and placed it underneath Ivar's butt, then he lifted Ivar's legs and placed them on his shoulders.
"May I kiss you, laddie?" the Scot begged. Ivar answered by placing his hands around the man's neck and raising his head with an open mouth with a playing tongue.
Ivar spunked off hands-free after a few minutes of direct fucking. The boy-milk was seen all over the black mattress cover. The Scot stopped.
"Don't stop, sir! Don't stop! Go on harder...please. Make me cum again!" Ivar locked his legs around the man's neck.
This time the Scot was hard, really hard. He battered Ivar again and again. He filled him with his hard tool, and he drew fully out before he penetrated him again.
"I'm cumming again. I have to. I have to! Fuck! Fuck!" Ivar saw faces in two of the windows. He wanked his cock hard and brutal and sprayed more milk.
The Scot did not wait for Ivar this time. He just pounded and pounded, then he turned himself around and let Ivar sit on top of him. The Norwegian did the job now. He fucked the man with his arse muscles and he did all the tricks old Andersen had taught him in Copenhagen.
With a roar, the man lifted himself and Ivar from the mattress and stayed inside him. He howled with every ejaculation and filled Ivar with real grown up man-milk. Ivar had another orgasm and in the end another. He was dry now; no more spunk, but clear slimy spit was dripping. Ivar fainted after a new multi-orgasm, this time in public.
"My name is Ivar by the way, and I'm Norwegian! Please let me clean you!" Ivar was back to earth and found the Scot's half-hard cock with his lips.
"My name is William, but everybody knows me as Bill. I live just outside Edinburgh and I drive down here for fun quite often." The man grunted when Ivar used his tongue on the swollen glans.
"You can give me a lift to Edinburgh then perhaps, sir?" Ivar licked the hairy balls.
"My pleasure, bonnie lad. You have a room in the city?" Bill asked.
"No sir, I haven't. Maybe you know a place. I hope to watch the New Year fireworks from the Castle Hill!" Ivar curled up close to the hairy man. He had fucked this Bill for the last hour without thinking of Archie.
To be continued.