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 2 Oslo (1975)
"Too early for the youth hostel," Ivar thought. "I'm not in a hurry to share a six-bed room with a bunch of farting high school kids." He checked the left luggage office. Open until eleven'. He knew from last year that there was an old-fashioned men's pub' at the seaward side of the station. He had been denied entrance last year while his best friend Trym, one year older, could get a beer with the other mates. It had been Ivar's challenge over the years that he always was `too young!" Back in Oslo, one year later, he had his age-certificate and he had the Spartacus guide.
Ivar went to the pub entrance. The body-builder at the door asked him to prove his age. He was prepared; he knew that even though he was 18, he looked much younger. Just now he wished he had put on the leather jacket.
The brown room was filled with beer-drinkers. The thick smoke made it difficult to get a clear view. He went up to the bar, bought a pint and turned around to look for a free table. He sat down in the inner corner. The old chaps at the nearest table lifted the glasses and saluted. Ivar toasted the men. "Off from kindergarten, boy?" One of the men shouted. The others laughed. Ivar blushed, but just smiled and lifted his glass again.
"Shut up idiot, or return to the old-men's home," a younger man at a table behind Ivar responded.
Ivar was comfortable. Just silly jokes from lonely old men. He opened his bag and pulled out the guide book.
Cruising': "Public toilet in lower Karl Johan Street," he read. "Area behind Monolitten' in the Vigeland Park. Akershus Castle by night."
Bars and coffee-shops; Ivar knew the text by heart. Now he was free to do whatever he wanted. A new situation, very easily handled in his room at home, but not so easy on the spot. But the reading and the pictures it created, made him rock hard again. Two hot cummings with Thor this afternoon had not drained the youngster's balls.
Ivar emptied the pint, smiled at the old guys and left. As a non-smoker he felt more comfortable outside. He had to piss, but he had a plan. He crossed the square in front of the railway station and continued into Karl Johan Street, a very different street now compared to the empty street early in the morning. Some blocks west and he found what he looked for, a strange semi-circular brick building formed like an oriental bazaar. He also found the sign for the public toilet. Men were coming and going.
"Too heavy traffic perhaps," Ivar thought. He stopped outside and leaned one shoulder against the wall. With searching eyes, he watched the arriving guys. Some of them met his eyes, most of them looked down or continued like they hadn't seen the kid-like youngster trying to make contact.
After some minutes a man dressed in denim arrived and the man in his thirties met Ivar's eyes. As a reflex he let his hand grope his crotch, then he went inside. Ivar followed. The man had placed himself near the inner wall and was about to unzip when Ivar dropped his bag and placed himself beside him. The lad followed the unspoken rule and looked straight ahead at the ceramic wall. He pulled down the tight jeans and fly-free bikini with one hand and managed to lift his stiff cock and balls above the thin ribbon. In a glimpse to the right he saw the man's brown cock, stiff as his own, trying to piss or just showing off. Ivar couldn't tell but after the beer he was really in need of relief so he tried his best to let his hard-on allow room for a yellow stream. Not a normal piss, but he managed. At the same time he felt that the man beside him move nearer. He pushed Ivar's hand away and took hold of the stiff dick. While pissing harder, Ivar pushed his hips forward and the man went on wanking him.
On the left side of the lad something happened. When Ivar had entered he had met a well-dressed man who just zipped and organised his trousers. Now that man was back inside the piss-house and had placed himself tight next to the pair. He quickly found his half-stiff cock and pretended he was to piss again. What he did was to use one hand to play with Ivar's golden liquid; he virtually washed his hand in the stream. Ivar was serviced by two men on his first visit to a dirty public toilet. Some other guys were coming inside, pissing and leaving, nobody seemed to interfere with in the action in the inner corner.
Ivar had done his job but the two beside him did not take their hands away. One wanked, the other played with his balls. The lad found the situation a bit odd, and placed a hand on each cock and just squeezed. The younger man to the right was about to manage his errand now, and even the returned gentleman managed some drops.
"Police in the street." A young guy gave a sort of signal as he entered with a grin. The elderly gentleman hurried out from the now crowded room. Ivar dressed too, found his bag, and turned to the wash basin. The younger man in denim passed him on his way out and whispered, "See you at midnight by the cannons!"
Ivar did not see any policemen around, and guessed the whole warning had been a teenage joke. But he was hungry after no real food since the lunch on-board Thor's boat. He found a nice table in the upper floor of a restaurant close to the Parliament. The famous square outside was a huge building area. He had read that this would be a new underground station for the planned Metro. "Lasagne and beer please," he ordered.
"I have to pass the Grand Hotel and then take the first right," he said to himself as he remembered Thor guiding him that morning. The upper part of Karl Johan Street was lit all the way up to the Royal Castle. "Still three hours until midnight." He looked for the waitress and hoped she would change a travellers cheque for him. Then he remembered the cash he had from his brother. Even alone he blushed. "What would my brother say if he had seen me in the piss-house today?" he wondered. "Well, it's not any worse than the sailor stories he tells about whorehouses after some drinks, I guess!" Ivar was to find the next check-point in his Spartacus guide.
Ivar passed the building. He heard music from the ground floor, and shadows were seen through the low windows. He turned and passed the entrance once more. For the first time in his life he was about to enter a gay pub. In his mind this was the point of no return! For a young man, far from open about his sexuality, this was an important step.
Once inside, he followed the stairs down to a basement room. The atmosphere was relaxed. Ivar was greeted by a smiling bartender who saw immediately that the youngster was new to this old establishment. Ivar went through the room followed by several pairs of eyes. He entered a new room with an inner bar, close to an open space where two Asian boys were playing billiards with a smoking senior. Ivar found a high stool by the bar and ordered a pint. He had a full view of the place; the benches around were in the darker area, the bars were well lit, and the billiard table looked like a stage. The lightly-dressed Asian boys were quite acrobatic and showed off some bare skin when they played. Tight trousers did not hide what was inside.
Ivar looked around. Most of the men were between forty and sixty, well dressed. "Office or business types," Ivar thought. "At meetings in Oslo, with wives and kids at home." He had heard the rumours. Some men looked more weary, happy to have a warm, cosy place for a beer while dreaming about some nice views passing in front of them. Ivar felt like a magnet. Men made errands to look at him, stopped outside the toilet, ordered beer here instead of in the outer bar. The lad met the looks, and gave some smiling feedback. His practise behind the bar at his hometown hotel gave him credit.
"Are you free tonight, honey?" He heard a voice from close behind. A hand was placed on his upper leg. He also felt the smell of heavy drink.
"Sorry friend, I'm just in for a beer!" Ivar turned to the man and smiled. He did not move, until the barman put his very expressive eyes at him.
"Sorry if I annoyed you, son," the man said as he turned away.
"No problem!" Ivar said. He touched the man's hand when he left him.
"You new here?" the barman asked. "Very quiet tonight. The youngsters are attending a new disco down the street this week. More your kind of music, I guess." He did not wait for an answer, but went on serving beer to thirsty men in the crowded bar. Ivar moved to a table across the room and was soon accompanied by two guys his own age, students they told him, on their way to the new place. After another round of beer they invited Ivar to follow.
More than one hour in a queue to get into the new disco, and a long discussion with the security man about his bag, but Ivar loved every minute in the middle of the hot young crowd. He had another drink before he dived into the floor among dancing guys, some of them truly only eighteen, but some up to their thirties and forties as well.
"Where are all these guys when they are not gathered in a hot disco," Ivar wondered. "I would never have guessed there were so many in Oslo." He danced and showed off and flirted and forgot his luggage at the station and the booked bed in the youth hostel. Ivar was wet with sweat, all the way. Even after some drinks, he was not in need of a toilet, but finally he moved downstairs to the find the toilet-room. It was a fight to get close to the urinal. He placed himself between some youngsters howling and pissing. He saw one guy openly wanking not far from him, and he saw a couple of elderly men just visiting with searching eyes. The situation was electric. Ivar just pissed. He grew hard while standing there, but he managed. A hand groped his arse, and he just returned a smile. Then he hurried back to the dancing crowd.
During a short break he noticed a passage at the back of the establishment which was covered by a sort of fishnet, and youngsters were coming and going through a door. Ivar had of course read about dark-rooms in the Spartacus guide, but he had believed that saunas were the place for them. His curiosity made him cross over the room and walk inside to see. There was nothing but a long corridor, very sparsely lit with guys standing at the sides. The newcomers had to walk through the room while the ones at the sides did what they could to touch and grope without shyness. There was a possibility to leave by another entrance, but most guys returned the same way. Hot bodies met, and hands found bulges and buttocks. Ivar felt a bit uncomfortable, too many people. His light claustrophobia made him search for the exit. Suddenly he was in the middle of a group of youngsters, two in front and two behind.
"Let's check the princess's jewels," one guy said. "And let's give him the finger," another one said. Ivar felt his jeans being pulled down and he struggled to keep his bikini on. "Don't be afraid, baby. We just want to fuck you!" The third man, a bit older, managed to get inside the underwear and found Ivar's sweaty arsecrack.
"Better not struggle!" Ivar thought.
"Stop, you fucking idiots!" A well-built giant at the side of the corridor placed a hand on one of guys.
"Just kidding! Just kidding!" was the message back, and the situation ended with smiles; the lad from the north a bit wiser. He looked at his watch, 2:30am and the party was still running. He was standing close to the bar when he heard his name. He turned around. The barman shouted his name again.
"How does he know my name?" Ivar thought as he went up to the man in his thirties.
The man, just in trousers and a small singlet, smiled at him. "Have you lost anything, kid?" The man asked. Ivar was suddenly sober. His purse - the one he carried around the neck - was gone. He had lost his passport, the travellers cheques and the hostel booking papers. All he had left was some cash placed in one of the shoes. What a start to his gap year!
"You'd better check if you have been robbed!" Roy was the name of the barman according to the rainbow button on his singlet. Now he handed Ivar the purse with a broken cord. With trembling hands Ivar checked. Everything was there. Ivar almost entered the bar, put his arms around the barman and kissed him. He kissed him again, a hard boy-to boy kiss, but a kiss where lips met and tongues invited.
Four o'clock Ð late night in an Oslo street. Ivar had the purse and the money, no luggage, no room, but after all he was happy, very happy. He had enjoyed his new freedom.
"I'll have to find a bench in the Palace Garden!" he thought. The night was not that warm, but he would manage. The entrance to the disco opened again, and barman Roy left for the night.
Roy saw the youngster standing under a streetlight and went up to him. "You are okay?" he asked, thinking that the lad looked a bit lost.
"I'm fine, Roy. Thanks to you!" He squeezed the purse. "But I have my luggage locked at the station and the youth hostel is closed for the night. I will find a place in the park." He pointed up the street to the Palace Garden.
"A lot of dirty goings-on up there. You're not a tough guy, are you? New in town, eh?" Roy smiled. "Come on, I have a sofa not that far away. My friend is asleep, but he doesn't bite! Come on!" He went around the corner and unlocked a bike. "Come on, kid. Sit on the crossbar." He grinned at Ivar.
A short time later they reached the old apartment building across the river, passing the fairy-tale bridge. The one-room flat was dark. Ivar could see a body asleep in a double bed that took up more than half the room. A small, short sofa was placed under the old-fashioned windows. Ivar felt a bit weird, as if he was interfering in the young couple's private space but he was happy to be indoors.
"Take a shower! You are still wet from your dancing!" Roy handed him a towel. "I'll find some blankets for you. Very hot here, no need for clothes."
The man stripped down to tight boxers. Ivar couldn't help place his eyes on the impressive bulge he had felt during the bike-ride in front of the bar-athlete.
When Ivar was back from a short shower, Roy was already beside his room-mate in bed. He saw the naked body, and he saw one arm around the sleeping body.
Ivar's tall body had trouble on the short sofa; he was more sitting than lying down. He had skipped the `wet' underwear and stayed naked like Roy had suggested.
The visitor did not know if he had slept much or not, but he woke up to the sound of two young men sucking each other.
"Damn!" One of the guys said. "I think we woke up our guest!"
"Forget him! He can sleep all morning but you are soon off for work, darling." Roy spoke between the slurping sound from a heavy sucking.
"Why can't we...?" The first man giggled.
"You horny devil! You hope for a hot threesome eh?" Roy responded, but sat up in the bed looking at Ivar, just two metres away. Ivar was awake.
"Come here, Ivar! Forget that silly sofa, room for all of us in bed here. Meet Carl, Oslo's horniest guy in the morning!"
Ivar was easy to ask. Roy placed him between the two, both naked, both with real erections, Roy's huge, Carl's very normal. The lad from the north was hugged from both sides, and his cock was groped and so were his balls and upper body. Soon both men played with Ivar's dick. They kissed each other with the dripping dick between the lips; and then they started to suck him. Ivar turned around and managed to play with both cocks using hands and mouth while the two sucked him every second. Roy tried to put a finger inside Ivar's arse too, but the boy wasn't ready for that and gave a clear stop signal.
Ivar was about to cum, but was uncertain how to end. He was horny as hell, and his balls were painful. Carl suddenly placed himself doggy, with broad legs and the butt lifted. Ivar looked at the smooth arse cheeks.
"Open him for me, Ivar. You are quite a sucker! Fuck him with your tongue." Roy was in command.
Ivar hesitated. He had never rimmed a boy or a man before, but he dived into the inviting crack and found the man's cunt. Very different from the horror he had felt when his brother had forced him to suck a paid girl at home.
Carl showed every sign of being well treated, and he moaned each time Ivar put his tongue inside him. At the same time Roy worked on the youngster. Ivar couldn't resist, he just had to spunk off. He tried to get his cock out of Roy's mouth, but in vain. He cum and cum and cum inside him. Ivar was ecstatic, but also embarrassed. He had interfered in these two guys morning fuck, and now he was the one to get a heavy orgasm.
"Let me!" Roy stood up on his knees, placed his stiff cock in one hand, and found his mates now opened arsehole. In one thrust he bottomed him. Carl had only one expression: "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
Ivar understood the English dirty words without translation. He lay down on his back and placed himself under the two bodies. There he found Carl's dripping cock. To watch Roy's huge cock fucking Carl, while he worked Carl's thick man-cock made the youngster rock hard again.
Carl could not take more, and Roy was close too. The two spunked off together, probably not for the first time. But for the first time Ivar took a load with great pleasure. He did not try to get away from it; with a sort of new knowledge he swallowed the man-milk that Oslo morning.
Ivar woke up to the sun shining into the room. He was curled up in Roy's arms. He looked at his watch. Twelve o'clock, midday!
"You are well, my dancing queen?" Roy bit his earlobe. "A hot night for you in Oslo." He used his nails to squeeze the boy's nipples, also a new experience for the learning boy!" His erection wet Roy's upper leg.
"I have to pee!" Ivar said. "Or IÉ piss É in your bed!"
"Help yourself, boy! I join you for a shower afterwards, okay?" Roy pushed Ivar out of bed. He saw for the first time in daylight the huge man-cock, pointing upwards. His mate had taken this rod without complaining.
"Dear Mum. I had some marvellous days in Oslo, seen a lot. The Palace was fine. Didn't meet Aunt Olga. No time. Theatre last night! All well. Love, Ivar."
Ivar put the postcard of the Royal Palace in the red box before he entered The White Line ship for Copenhagen.
Roy had followed him to the Outdoor Pool the day before, and the two had sucked each other to climax behind half-walls in the changing room.
Thor, the high school-teacher, had met him with his two sons and the four of them had enjoyed a fine performance of "Fiddler on the Roof" in the theatre. They had shared a box, the sons sitting in the front, Thor and Ivar behind. Thor had touched Ivar's bulge and upper legs for the whole play. The presence of the sons made it impossible for Ivar to give Thor a hot thank you. But now he had two telephone numbers in his travel diary.
To be continued