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 17 London (1975)
The light breeze played with Ivar's hair. Even on a December day it was possible to sit outside and he had found himself a deckchair on the ferry from Calais. At the other side of the English Channel was London, another city in the young man's dreams. Again he felt tingling in his body; a new city, a new country, a lot of new possibilities.
Ivar opened the Spartacus Guide, his written adviser for the gap year he had given himself. Soon he had to take some serious decisions for his future. He knew that! Now he looked forward to meeting his three years older brother Ragnar, who would be docking at Tilbury harbour in the north-east of the River Thames the following afternoon.
A small note with an address fell from the book. His mother's neat handwriting. Ivar swallowed. It was almost half a year since he had left home. The address was for the Norwegian YMCA quarters in London, not far from Holland Park, out west. Ivar had studied the London map night after night in his room up north, and he had done map travelling on the underground map more than once. But first of all, he had learned about two hot places: Soho for gay excitement and Carnaby Street for young fashion. He could hardly wait.
A man in his forties moved his chair close to Ivar. "I love your flag, young man; reminds me of some young brave men whom I met years ago." Ivar had been thinking how it would be to change from French to English, and this man had a strange way of speaking English.
"Where did you meet young Norwegians, sir?" Ivar looked at the redheaded man with lots of freckles.
"It was during the war. I was fifteen and lived with my parents in a small Scottish port west of Glasgow. Four young Norwegian soldiers moved into our house and became both brothers and friends for me." The man spoke with a strange, slightly harshly voice.
"One of them, his name was Ivar, stayed with us for two years, until the end of the war." The man pronounced Ivar the Norwegian way, `eevar'.
"Another Ivar here!" The lad gave the Scot his hand.
"What a coincidence!" The man grinned. "My name is Archie, quite a common Scottish name."
"Are you checking me out and making up an interesting story?" Ivar wondered. "Or are you telling a real story?" There was a small label with his name on his backpack. MaybeÉ
"Ivar!" Archie sighed. "I really miss him." He was hardly audible. The music from a not too good loudspeaker changed to another song. `Love hurts' Ð this summer's number one hit in Europe filled the air. Ivar could not help singing along. He looked at the man beside him, a boyish man with smiling, maybe teasing, eyes.
Archie let Ivar finish the song. "You know the group `Nazareth' is Scottish?" he asked.
"I didn't know that. Really nice song, nice melody too!" Ivar knew that the ferry was soon to dock in Dover and he had no tickets for the London train. But he was curious.
"How was this wartime `eevar'? Ivar asked.
"He was a fair lad like you. Crazy guy, and a very serious guy. We did all brothers could do when he wasn't on duty. When he received his orders he became very distant, maybe afraid, hated questions." Archie looked at the waves. "When back from the action, he was exhausted and slept for days." Again the man paused. "When he left, I cried. I was happy for him, but I missed him, reallyÉ." He continued.
"Did you love him?" Ivar suddenly asked. He could have bit his tongue off.
"Yes, I loved him, like a seventeen old lad can love!" He smiled and placed a hand on Ivar's shoulder. "We'd better hurry downstairs. We are docking now."
"Did you meet him after the war?" Ivar asked when they left by the gangway.
"No, we stayed in contact for some years. I got a picture from him when he baptised his first son. That was the last time I heard from him." When the man fronted Ivar on the quayside his eyes were filled with tears. "He was from Trondheim, by the way." Archie left for the railway station.
"A nice man!" Ivar thought. "Wish the boat trip had been longer!"
Ivar found a direct train from Dover to Victoria station in London and was happy to get a seat in the old-fashioned train. Now the fatigue hit him; nightly sex-play with Ken and Henrik, the train from Paris and the boat-trip to Dover had taken their toll. He closed his eyes and slept for more than two hours surrounded by lively backpackers and serious-looking business men.
The special sound coming from a train passing over a long bridge, woke him. He was in London. He had crossed the River Thames and the train was entering Victoria station.
`Victoria station' Ivar had fantasied about it feeling very special but his first impression was that the station was extremely noisy and crowded. Ivar needed a break to plan his next step. He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Could I offer you a cup of tea?" Archie was behind him. "I searched for you on the train, but I didn't see you."
"Thank you, sir. I need to find the entrance to the Tube, but I would love something to drink first. Tea is fine, and I could do with a sandwich too," Ivar answered the man, just carrying a document map. Archie was well-built, about Ivar's own height and had a sporty crewcut. He looked much younger than the 47 Ivar had calculated.
The tea, the sandwich and the chatting kept the two occupied for a long time. Archie looked at his watch; time to split up.
"How is it to work for the EEC questions after the referendum?" Ivar asked. Archie had told him about his job in London and Brussels.
"Hopefully things will calm down!" Archie answered. "I agree with you. Why a referendum two years after we became members of the EEC? Power, Ivar! Power!"
"Very nice to meet you, young man." The man stood up and was about to leave the table but he turned back. "You meet your brother tomorrow I understand. Any plans for tonight?"
"I just want to check in and find my bed Ð maybe look around the neighbourhood and find out about the train for Tilbury tomorrow," Ivar answered.
"I live in the area myself, and usually take an evening constitutional' - a walk - and then maybe have a beer in a local pub. Would you like to meet me?" The formally-dressed man smiled at Ivar. "It's a busy street called Queensway with a big department store. You will see an old pub across the street from the department store Ð a pub called Prince Alfred', my favourite. If you feel for it, please look for me about seven o'clock."
Ivar nodded as he got up and found his backpack.
"If I don't see you tonight, please make contact before you leave the country. You have my London address, my address in Greenock, and you have my phone number." Archie found Ivar's shoulders and hugged him.
"I loved him, Ivar, but not the way you believe perhaps!" Archie whispered as he hugged him cheek to cheek. Then he turned around and left in the crowd.
Ivar, feeling a bit confused, sat down again. The two hadn't chatted more about the Norwegian soldier, but Archie had asked if he had a girlfriend, and Ivar had told the truth about his lack of girl experience without pointing out the alternative. Now he tried to return to his maps.
"Victoria line to Oxford Circus, then Central line westbound to Holland Park!" He repeated while he found the correct escalator. He got a smile from an old lady who probably wondered who he was talking to.
The YMCA room was okay, and so was the bed. He hadn't seen the three persons he had to share the room with though. Now he looked in the bathroom mirror. Well-tanned from the outdoor work in France; bigger upper arm muscles too after all the lifting of salad boxes. He had chosen a tight, very short-sleeved, t-shirt, a bit high cut to show parts of his hard, hairless belly. He knew he had to buy some new jeans and looked forward to visiting Carnaby Street very soon. In a way he wished he was still in the south of France. December in England was cold.
"Stupid!" he said to himself. "You behave like you're having a first date. Maybe he just thought you looked lost!" He talked to the mirror while he tried to arrange his sun-bleached hair. He found the glossy black coat he had bought in Paris and a knitted scarf to keep the coming wind away.
Ivar walked east along Bayswater Road, with Kensington Gardens to the right, and soon Queensway to the left. Strange smells and sounds met him, it was a very cosmopolitan street. In front of him now was Whiteleys department store, sometimes referred to as the white warehouse, and there was Archie's pub - "Prince Alfred", a very English pub.
Ivar saw Archie at once. A big grin met him from a small table just inside from the street flower market. Casually dressed in denim, the man looked very boyish. Ivar knew that in France they would have met with a kiss on both cheeks, but here? He gave Archie a hand. The man answered with a powerful handshake while he squeezed Ivar's other upper arm, the closest you could do in a crowded English pub.
"I would like to see you naked, Ivar!" the man whispered after the third beer and nearly an hour of chatting. He was standing beside Ivar at the old-fashioned pub toilet.
"And I would like to suck the white liquid out of you, sir!" Ivar looked down to see if the man sported a hard-on like himself; difficult to see in the dark room. "But not here in this dirty shit-house!" At last he managed to get rid of the beers.
"I think I know a place you will like, Ivar. Not shy, are you? We find a cab!" Archie zipped up.
"If shy, it's a new habit since I arrived in old Britain!" Ivar grinned and tried to cover up his erection inside the tight underwear.
The cab took them to a small street not far from Marble Arch. Archie went up to an anonymous door. The button said `club', nothing more. Ivar saw the three security cameras.
The smell inside was very much like the sauna in Copenhagen, a combination of chlorine and male aroma. Behind the desk was a young Adonis, shirtless in tight shorts. He greeted Archie who just showed an identification card.
"My guest!" The Scot used a head movement to present Ivar. "One of the Vikings, you know! They are here to take back the country."
"You like those Viking kids up north, don't you sir? Pity that you have to go south to plough them, eh?" The youngster squeezed his bulge, winked at Archie and gave Ivar a big smile while he handed him a towel and a sort of loincloth.
"What you put on here is optional," Archie advised Ivar as he led him into a very private part of the fashionable locker room. "Many of the youngest guests go fully nude, while the elderly ones use some cover. You need the towel in the pool and in the sauna."
Archie looked at Ivar while he undressed. Ivar was probably shyer than normal in front of a man he didn't know at all, but they had made a sort of contract in the pub toilet. Archie wanted to see Ivar naked and Ivar had promised the Scot a blowjob. Ivar undressed without turning away. The situation was very erotic and Archie swallowed and coughed when Ivar pulled down the white bikini with two wet spots in the front.
"May I touch you? May I look with my hands? Such a beauty! Such a beauty!" Without waiting the man cupped Ivar's hot balls and let the stiff dick rest upon his wrist. Ivar, who had loved Hector's tough fucking in France, was in a way very turned on by Archie's soft touch too. Now the Scot played with Ivar's foreskin, opened his piss-slit and used the pee-cum to grease the glans.
"You like my dick, sir? Not very special though!" Ivar gasped at the treatment.
"Aye, aye. Very special! A huge boy-cock on a grown-up body. You should be a model." Archie now used both hands to touch Ivar from neck to butt, both back and front. "Do you always shave?" He touched the smooth pubic area.
"My room-mate in France teased me. He shaved me and dressed me like his girlfriend and then screwed me. I will let it grow now. What do you think?" Ivar's cock was rock-hard now.
"I love you smooth! How is your arse?" The still-dressed Scot was trembling with excitement and Ivar could see the outline of a huge boner inside the cowboy-style jeans. Being naked, or semi-naked, in front of dressed men, had become a sort of fetish for him in recent months, as he liked to be admired but also controlled. The hard sex with Hector after the whipping or caning had been carried out with the man in boots and working gear.
Ivar turned around, spread his legs, and opened up using his hands to show his crack and boy-cunt. Despite having been heavily fucked in the last few days, he was tight and pink.
"Wow!" was the Scot's short expression. He licked his fingers, spat in the arse-crack twice, and started a search inside. Ivar was close to cumming already. Not a real orgasm building up, but the youth needed to shoot his load. Archie had three fingers inside him now, up to the knuckles.
"Please stop, sir! I'm gonna cum if you go on. Your fingers are like a huge dick. You make me crazy. Please Archie, Archie! Stop, stop! Sir, I'm...! God! I have to pee or, I don't know. I'm, I'm..." Ivar wriggled like a worm when he started to shoot. His spunk fell against the metal door, over the bench and down to the floor. It was like a wave. Archie pulled him tight and sniffed his hair.
"Was it good for you, kid? Did I do you good?" Archie whispered. Ivar turned around. He could not speak. Their lips just met in a wet and hard kiss.
"Let me undress you sir, my first Scottish gentleman!" Ivar grinned. They hadn't entered the club yet.
Very passive now, enjoying the situation completely, the Scot let Ivar unbutton his blue denim shirt and strip him. The white singlet underneath covered a lightly-haired upper body, more red than blond hair, nicely trimmed on a man that for sure liked to be seen. Without a word, Ivar freed Archie from the singlet too and let his hands follow the chest muscles to find the nubs that went hard because of the sudden play. Ivar let his lips touch the nipples while his nails very carefully followed Archie's spine. The man closed his eyes and sighed quietly at Ivar's teasing treatment.
"Please...another kiss, bonnie lad!" Archie found Ivar's neck and kissed him tight. Ivar knelt down after a while and buried his face in the man's bulge, biting and sniffing while cupping the hard buttocks. Archie, more active now, impatient and horny, opened his belt and unbuttoned the top of his fly. Ivar, still teasing, knelt on the floor and helped the man off with shoes and socks before he very carefully helped to strip off the jeans. The loose boxers, American-style, gave suddenly full freedom for the rising cock. Again Ivar tasted the goodies outside the fabric, but eager to get the cock into his mouth he found the waistband and stripped the man completely. Archie, pale and freckled, had a very hot body. The hanging balls with very visible eggs were close-shaved, and so was the shaft of the huge erection. For the first time Ivar met a guy with a carrot-red bush, trimmed and connected to the sexy trail.
"Wow!" It was Ivar's time to use this intelligent expression. He placed his lips around the wet, naked cockhead. "Strange!" he thought, the man was not cut, but he had a next to naked glans. Now the proud 25 cm (10 inch) Scottish wood waited for Viking treatment. And Ivar was there, ready to give the man what he had promised him. The sucking-master did his job, with lips and tongue. The cock was not among the thickest, but it was too long for him to swallow.
Archie went soon from a passive receiver to a very active mouth-fucker. Ivar had some problems taking the cock - tears and slime and spit was dripping - but Archie bent his head backwards and managed to fill Ivar's throat without trouble. After a while Ivar noticed a change. He saw Archie's balls contract and he tasted the sweet pre-cum. To give the Scot some extra stimulation he found the man's nipples and squeezed them with fingers and nails.
With a howl, Archie withdrew from Ivar's mouth, placed both hands around his cock, and shot his man-cream all over Ivar's face and upper body. The spunk was really white and dripping. Ivar got to know the smell and the taste of Archie's cum for the first time. With a finger he caught some milk dripping from his chest and put it inside his mouth. He looked at the sweating Archie as if seeking permission.
"Eat it, bonnie lad. Take it all! You are still a growing kid, but you are a great sucker already. Well taught, eh? A good father, or maybe your brother?" Archie grinned and helped Ivar to clean up the eruption. When they had finished Ivar found his way back to Archie's still half-hard cock and cleaned it with his lips and tongue.
"Maybe you want to see this place now. First time I have spunked off in the changing room, but a nice change!" He smiled and put on the loincloth. Ivar recalled the previous information and stayed completely naked. He nearly dammed his still super erection when they entered the hall with fifteen to twenty men, younger and older, who were standing or sitting around. The video show on the screen seemed to be less explicit than the Scandinavian ones, but when they passed an open door to a lounge the screams told of advanced porn.
"We go straight to the shower, I think." Archie crossed through the group. All of them looked at Ivar. Some smiled, but the young Norwegian was used to attention now and kept both his heads upright! "Could be nice to have a hot sauna in the cold weather, don't you think? And a dip in the pool afterwards perhaps?" Archie talked while the two shared the shower with two similar couples.
The stay in the Finnish sauna was a dream for Ivar. He loved it at home. Archie was not that happy, but did not complain. From the notice on display, all users had to sit on their towels. Ivar's amusement was to follow the men in there. The older ones pretended to keep private, but the four younger guys played a sort of game with watching eyes, then some small wanks, then a light grin, and then another round. Ivar smiled when he could finally see five young hard-ons including his own.
"We will go to the pool, okay, before you kids organise an orgy here," Archie whispered. Ivar had no objections, but smiled at the young students when he left.
The cool pool was what was needed after the hot sauna, and then a lazy half hour on a resting chair in a sort of green indoor garden. Ivar was still horny. His eruption in the changing room was not a real orgasm for him. Either he needed a cock up his boy-cunt or he needed a man's arse for a hard fuck. Archie had closed his eyes. Ivar, still a bit uncertain about his new companion, used a hand underneath the covering towel and found the Scot's cock that grew in his hand in seconds.
"You want to fuck me, sir?" Ivar asked.
"I was afraid you were done, bonnie lad!" Archie answered with unclear voice.
Minutes later Archie locked the door inside a private cabin containing a black leather sofa, a high stool and a TV set. "We don't need porn to stay hot, do we?" Archie closed down the video before he lay down with spread legs, very macho.
"Dance for me, Viking. Play with your cock, pinch your tits and finger-fuck your cunt. Please bonnie lad, bring yourself close to heaven, then ride me and let me eat your cream." Archie squeezed his huge weapon, but did not wank.
"Love hurts! Oh! Love hurts!" Ivar used a tube of lube as a mic. His voice was not good enough for a solo, but the Nazareth lyrics were good enough to accompany his strip show without clothes. When he ended up with the tube like a cock deep inside his boy-cunt, he was about to reach another climax.
"You ready for me, sir?" Ivar looked at Archie with begging eyes.
"I'm more than ready, baby." Archie winked. "Let me open you with my tongue."
Ivar climbed onto the bed and knelt with an open arse close to Archie's mouth. He opened the tube and dripped the gel on the waiting cock. While the Scot penetrated him with a working tongue, Ivar changed between hard and soft movements when he greased up the beauty.
"Do you wear a kilt?" Ivar suddenly asked. He had to cool down a bit, or he would spunk off again before he climbed the pole.
"Occasionally," Archie answered. "Why do you ask?"
"I'm sure I would be hard all time if I should wear a kilt!" Ivar turned his head and grinned. "You don't wear knickers underneath, do you?"
"Never!" Archie answered and dived back into Ivar's boy-cunt. He was close to the edge again but managed to reduce the fight inside his balls by fingering Archie's strange foreskin.
"Why are you half-way cut, sir? Your dick is a masterpiece!" Ivar pulled Archie's small foreskin skin back with his lips and teeth. The man shivered with excitement.
"My dad didn't want me to stay a baby like you, kid!" Archie gave Ivar some hard spanks on his buttocks. "Is this an inspection, boy, or are you soon going to ride me?"
Ivar took the signal, turned around, opened his buttocks wide and placed the wet cockhead outside his love entrance. Archie did not wait, but penetrated the lad from underneath. Ivar lowered his body on the huge cock quite easily. It was as long as Col's from Paris, but did not have the thickness.
"Yeah, yeah! Do it hard, just go on, don't wait!" Ivar screamed in the small room and Archie responded.
The next fifteen minutes was a fight, a fight about who was the top of the two. Archie fucked from underneath and Ivar fucked the man with his own body.
Archie won. Ivar's movements became slower, but Archie fucked him like crazy. Ivar couldn't resist any longer; his cock started to shoot. Archie opened his mouth and was hit by several blasts. Archie went on. He was a hard stayer, but Ivar followed too. His ability to stay hard, and be on the top even after cumming, was special.
After five more minutes Ivar felt Archie's cock grow even more, and his whole body was lifted from the bed. Ivar really rode the man now.
"I'm cumming, baby! Let me fill you. Let me make you my property. Let me ruin your ass!" He erupted at every sentence he cried out.
Ivar orgasmed again. "Eat me, sir. Please. Please!" Ivar had cum for the second time, but he did not stop; his white spunk changed to clear liquid and sprayed all over Archie's reddish body hair. Ivar fainted after his multi-orgasm; his best for a long time.
Archie let him rest for a while. He played with Ivar's hair while still deep inside his body.
Ivar was happy. The time in this sauna had been his very best. Archie was a combination of a soft, pleasing guy, and a tough devil. Ivar liked both.
"Did you fuck me now, sir? Or did you fuck `eevar'?" Ivar whispered.
"Both!" Archie combed the lad's hair with his fingers. "You are two of a kind. Never thought I should meet him again!" Archie closed his eyes when Ivar let him withdraw, and let out a light sigh when he cleaned his cock with a rough tongue.
The cab stopped just outside the YMCA building.
"Will I ever see you again, love?" Archie whispered. "I hate to think that you don't want to meet me again. I leave for Scotland tomorrow to celebrate Christmas with my old mum, then I have to go to Brussels over New Year."
"I promise to call you before I leave Britain." Ivar put an arm around the man he had known for less than a day; a man who had drained his balls, a man who was one of the most decent he had ever met since he left home.
"You have three numbers here, Ivar; mine in London, then the number for my secretary in Brussels, and the third is for my Mum in Greenock." He handed Ivar a business card.
"And now I go inside to find my snoring and farting company!" Ivar grinned, and paused. "And you go home and make love to your wife, sir!" Ivar touched Archie's plain ring.
"Wish it was like that. You know that love between men still is a crime at home in Scotland. Just read your Spartacus Guide. We all need a cover! Take care! You brought back my youth, `eevar'."
To be continued.