Date: Tue, 1 Oct 2019 15:41:05 +0100 From: Bill Jonners Subject: Europe with Spartacus: Prologue Europe with Spartacus Introduction Early summer ﾐ 1975 This is the story of a Norwegian youngster named Ivar, just turned eighteen. He has lived all his life in a small village in the middle of Norway. With the help of "Spartacus International Gay Guide 1975," he is on his way to explore Europe. 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. *** Ivar was sitting in the railway station in Trondheim waiting for the night train to Oslo. He had a wild birthday party in his hometown, some miles north, just four weeks earlier with a real reason to celebrate. He had turned eighteen, he was formally his own master and he had ended high school with good results, even though he was the youngest in the class. Ivar let his thoughts wander while he took another look at the set of photos he had just taken in the station's photo-booth. He had promised to send a photo to the buddy who had seen him off yesterday. Trym, his only close friend, had not been happy when they split up. Military service was his task for the next 12 months. One year older than him, Trym was to do his national military service, while Ivar could wait another year. It was their first time apart; the two had been in school together since Ivar was six and Trym was seven. "I'm happy that my mum didn't force me to get my hair cut," Ivar thought and grinned while looking at his long blond hair which was his pride. His model-like, nearly hairless face, looked a bit tougher with the Beatle-style long hair. There had been a fight at home over whether Ivar should wear the black `student cap', a cap he didn't want, but a cap that was his mum's pride; the first real academic in the family. His three years older brother, coming home from the winter season on board a huge trawler, had frowned when his mother had begged his junior brother to show off for the whole family wearing the cap. "Night-train to Oslo, track one. All on board please!" A metallic voice was heard. Ivar found his seat. He had not booked a sleeper; his money was to last for a long journey. That was his plan anyway. He found the ticket from the purse he had around the neck, a gift from the local bank when he bought the travellers cheques. In the purse he also carried his new passport, an international youth hostel card and the 500 Norwegian crowns his brother surprisingly had handed him last night. "Girls are expensive in the big cities, Kiddo," had been the farewell, beside a broad grin and a fist hitting his shoulder. First time a gesture like that from the older brother, whom he hadn't seen much the last three years. For Ivar the last few years had been a combination of hard studies, some wild parties and a part-time job in a local hotel. Ivar hung his black leather jacket beside the window, and had some trouble with the shirt. The flowered slim-fitting shirt was popping up from the low-cut Peter, Paul and Mary trousers that hardly covered the newest low-cut bikini briefs. When he rose to lift the backpack to the shelf above the window, he displayed a hairless young body, with a set of globe-round buttocks. When he bowed to pick up a book from the seat the top of his arse crack was tempting whoever was watching. A grey-haired man on the seat across the aisle polished his glasses. Ivar watched him in the mirror-like window and smiled. Not the first time he has noticed older men's glance. Ivar was happy to get the double seat alone. `Domb茎' said a reservation ticket on the neighbouring seat. He would be single for the first part of the journey across the mountains. He lowered the table in front of him and placed a book covered in grey paper on top. He smiled when he opened the package; his only book for the trip, and his favourite book on lonely nights while playing with his own naked body: `Spartacus International Gay Guide 1975'. A lot of dreams, a lot of fantasy, a lot of excitements were inside those covers. Ivar looked around and opened the book. He was blushing at the thought of opening the book in the middle of all the people around him. He had bookmarked Oslo, now he put the bookmark at the Copenhagen chapter and some stamps by Stockholm, his first planned stops. Ivar closed his eyes. He had read the Oslo text a hundred times. He had to adjust the boner inside his pocket-free, and fly-free, trousers. Three years ago he had been on a school excursion to Oslo, and of course all his mates visited Oslo's first `dirty-shop' in Town-Hall Street. Age limit eighteen for visits, but who wasn't eighteen? While the guys from school had bought condoms and porn magazines, he had just looked around. Half an hour later, alone, blushing like the school kid he was, he had bought his very first `Spartacus' guide. What his mother had thought when she found the book underneath his mattress once, had never been said. Ivar was sure that she never had told his dad or his brother about the find, otherwise he would have been met with a harsh confrontation. "All tickets, please!" The conductor entered the carriage. Ivar covered the book with the grey paper and smiled at the attractive man in uniform. He had started his first journey with the Spartacus Guide as his main helper.