Date: Wed, 30 Oct 2019 10:38:13 +0800
From: Bill Jonners <colin4men@gmail.com>
Subject: Europe with Spartacus 5

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.

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Europe with Spartacus

Chapter 5
Copenhagen (1975)


"Stupid! Stupid!" Ivar spat the words out. He tried to read the Spartacus
guide, but the eyes were filled with tears. "Why did you run away? Why
Steven? You were as horny as me." He tried to find an address. He wiped his
eyes with the back of his hand and placed himself underneath a street lamp
to read. "Church Street," he read. "Not far!" He looked at the map.

Ivar was horny, horny as hell. He had been like that since the sex in the
park-toilet. He had been hard all the way through the roller coaster ride
close to Steven's body. He had felt Steven's hard-on when he suddenly
kissed him in the crowd.

"Ivar, you are stupid!" Again he talked to himself. "Second day on your
travel and you believe you are in love. Man! You search for freedom! Find
the places you have dreamt about!"

"Problems, son?" A man on a bike stopped in front of him. Ivar woke up from
his own thoughts.

"EhÉ I'm okay, sir. I'm just looking for Church Street" He put the
guide-book back in the shoulder bag.

"Not far." The man smiled. "Cross the Town Hall square, turn left and then
right. "Let me walk with you." He jumped off his bike. "Nice to speak to a
Norwegian! What are you searching for in Church Street in the middle of the
night? The sauna perhaps."

"How did you?" Ivar blushed.

"I know your guide book, and I have heard about the new sauna," the man
answered.

"You have been there, sir?" Ivar felt suddenly very free. The nice man,
probably in his early forties looked both handsome and sporty.

"No, I haven't. You see, I'm notÉ" The man suddenly paused and looked
straight ahead.

"Do you have to beÉ" Ivar was not used to the words that home in his
village up north could be both shameful and stigmatising. "Can't you just
be curious?"

Ivar smiled. He was checking out a man - his first - in the street, like a
rent-boy from his dirty magazines hid in the attic at home. "I'm Ivar!" He
gave the man his hand. "Would love it if you came me. My first time, you
see."  The handshake was powerful, "I'm Peder, very Danish!" He
grinned. His eyes were grey in the dark street; the teeth white, his lips
wet like a kid's, and the open shirt showed a sweaty hairless upper
body. Ivar felt that his cock was about to betray him again.

"On the right you find a nice cafŽ in daytime, a bar nowÉ. and down
in the basement there's a disco in the weekends. You're a dancer aren't you
Ivar?" Now Peder was the flirter.

"How on earthÉ? Ivar stopped and put his hand on the handlebar. This
Peder both excited him and scared him.

"You walk like a dancer Ivar, not like a shuffling football player, and you
are dressed like one too? Am I rightÉ?" Peder looked Ivar up and
down. He must have noticed the bulge in the boy's tight trousers. Ivar did
not try to hide his young weapon; the stiff dick told his own story.

"If you follow me inside, you may see me naked, Peder. Just try not to
undress me with your eyes." Ivar couldn't believe his own words.

"Here we are! Go through the gate, cross the yard, up the stairs. You will
find a button!" Peder explained in detail.

"How do you know all this?" Ivar did not take his hand away from the bike.

"I've been here many nights since they opened," Peder almost
whispered. "But I have never pushed the button!"

"Okay. I see. We are probably two of a kind. Come on. We press together,
eh?" Ivar took care of the bike and walked in front inside the dark
yard. Peder looked at the two round globes in front of him, got a glimpse
of Ivar's upper arsecrack when he bent. He had to adjust his own
bulge. Another night hunter had found his prey.

"I'll let him believe his own story!" Ivar thought. But he had seen hunting
men before.

"Good evening, gentlemen!" The young host behind the bar welcomed them in
Danish, polite and joyful. Without any comments he handed them white towels
and a key attached to a rubber band. "Half price for you, Norwegian! We
need eye candy here!" The youngster grinned and Ivar blushed.

"How could youÉ?" Ivar grinned back.

"I know the Vikings when I see them!" The answer was like a new flirt for
the young Norwegian.

The locker-room was like the high school at home, Ivar thought. He was
suddenly too shy to undress beside the man he just met in the street, a man
he would follow more or less nude into the sauna, and perhaps have sex with
later during their sauna evening. He hurried to lock the locker door and
used the towel to cover himself up. From the locker-room they headed into
the huge shower-room. In his fantasy, when studying the Spartacus guide, he
had imagined a dark, half-hidden room. Here he was in a huge white,
well-lit shower-room without separate cubicles. On the opposite wall was
room for towels. You were not private here. Three men, of different ages,
were already cleaning up.

"Different ages and different stages of erection!" Ivar thought, when he
removed his towel, collected shampoo, and found his own shower. The
situation could probably have been overwhelming for the young man, but now
he was exactly where he had wanted for the last few years, among nude men
hunting for sex and play. Without trying to cover up with Peder beside him,
Ivar showed off the stiffest cock among the five men there and washed his
naked cockhead without blushing.

"You want me to wash your back, kid?" Peder asked. The next to hairless
Dane had his hands on Ivar's shoulders. Turning around Ivar had to admire
the well-hung man with all signs of arousal. With soapy hands he found
Peder's balls and stiffening dick. Peder spread his legs, just when the
oldest among the guests past them and pointed at a written sign high up on
the wall: NO SEX IN THE BATHROOM! He grinned and held open the
frosted-glass door to the next room as if to invite the two newcomers
inside.

The bathroom had been well lit, but now Ivar entered something that felt
like hell, or the opposite. The steam sauna was completely dark, wet with
the steam; warm like a Finnish sauna, but the moisture made it tough to
breathe.  The main sound came from the fans that blew out the steam, but it
was mixed with sounds from men having sex; different stages of sex. After a
while Ivar could see some shadows, and every time the door opened, he saw
men lying down, sitting men and standing men, most of them indulging in
different sorts of sexual activity.

Ivar crossed the room to the inner wall. Within minutes he had hands
touching his body, every part of the body. His cock was wanked, his nipples
were squeezed, his arse was inspected, and he let it happen. His only fear
was that he would cum at once, here in the middle of everybody. This was
more than the village-boy from up north had dreamt of in his nightly
fantasies.

"Let's go upstairs, kid!" Peder whispered in Ivar's ear as if he understood
that the youngster was already close to a climax.

"Help me then, I'm close toÉ closeÉ" Ivar felt Peder's strong arms
around his shoulders and together they left the hottest sauna the young man
had ever been in. Another visit to the shower, and they found their towels
and went up a steep staircase. The landscape was very different from
downstairs. The place was sparingly lit, some small rooms, some bigger,
screens showing porn, men wandering around covered like Asian monks in
their huge white towels searching contact. Some doors were open, some
closed; inside some doors were lonely men showing off their tools as if in
a market, waiting for customers. Holes in the walls in different sizes and
locations invited open or closed activity.

"Not many youngsters here!" Ivar whispered.

"I've heard they arrive later on. During the weekend they will stay here
all night. Saves paying for a hostel room, I guess!" Peder could tell a lot
for a newcomer, Ivar thought.

"Maybe we could try one of those double cabins with the holes?" Peder
touched Ivar's round butt while he adjusted his own towel in front. Ivar
had been dripping hard since the sauna and had been about to suggest some
action too. They were about to return to a dark room when they were
stopped.

"Would you like to visit the special rooms upstairs?" A hairy man in his
fifties, with a black harness above the white towel, almost blocked the
corridor in front of them. "He must be two metres tall (over 6ft)," Ivar
thought.

"Could be interesting, Viking!" Peder answered for both of them and pushed
Ivar behind the huge man and on up to the next level. The attic rooms were
rough; looking like an old barn or store-room. The video-screen in the
small theatre gave Ivar a short view of a bound-up man being hit by a
whip. A couple of men were watching. Handworks inside the towels were, as
far as Ivar could see, the only sexual action.

The huge man, his language told Ivar that he was a Dane, brought him very
friendly into the corner room and Peder followed. The very dark room was
only lit by two spotlights. One light pointed at the rear wall. On the wall
was a strange cross; a cross like an X. Ivar hadn't seen a cross like that
before. A young naked man was standing in front of the raw materials; well,
not standing, rather hanging. Ivar was scared. He thought the youngster was
bound to the wall, and in the shadows he saw another guy, dressed more or
less like the huge Dane. He had no towel on though, instead he wore a black
leather jockstrap, similar to what he had seen in his brother's sports-gear
when he returned from the ice-hockey training in Trondheim.

The jockstrap man had a black mask too and he grinned at the
newcomers. "Another youngster who needs whipping?" He displayed a tawse.

Peder stayed close to Ivar and whispered, "It's fake. The boy isn't even
bound. Play with him Ivar Ð just for fun!"

Ivar knew this whip from the school museum at home and was not in the mood
for that kind of treatment. "Thank you, sir, but I have finished with
school. It's too late to teach me good manners!" Ivar was not as tough as
he sounded.

"Don't be rude Norwegian, and address me as Master! I run this place!" The
man released the youngster's arms and legs and dragged him by his hair up
to a sort of metal barrier making a cell in one corner. "I'm not finished
with you!" he snarled at the kneeling youngster.

"This Viking is mine," said Peder. "Forget the whip, brother. He's not here
for punishment, but for sex."

The huge Dane spoke. "Look how horny he is!" He grabbed Ivar's bulge and
squeezed. We help him off with his milk, don't you think?"

The two men followed Ivar up the other side of the room. Lit by a spotlight
was a leather swing attached to the ceiling by four chains. "Ever used a
swing like this?" The thong-dressed man asked.

"No, sir. No, master, I haven't. Not since kindergarten." Ivar tried to
make jokes, but either the Danes didn't understand Ivar's Norwegian, or
they were in a very serious mood.

"You want to try then?" Peder suddenly asked. The bulge in his towel showed
a man very excited about what was going on.

"If the masters will teach me, maybe I could try!" Ivar was not quite sure
what was going on, but he was very curious about this. The `swing'
instrument had been mentioned in the guidebook in many dark-rooms he had
read about.

"Undress!" the huge Dane commanded, and he stripped Ivar before he had
started to loosen the towel himself. The three men grinned when they saw
the body in front. The lad 1,85 m (just over 6ft), well built, but slim,
showed a body which was hairless except for some wild pubic hair, and some
blond summer-hair on the tanned legs and arms. The Beatle-long hair was
just now pushed backward because of sweat and excitement. But the men's
eyes found the round, hard balls and the very hard cock pointing upwards to
the left. Even rock hard the cock's glans was half covered by a boyish
foreskin. In the light from the spot a gleaming drop of pre-cum was seen on
the pink piss-slit.

Both the masters used their huge hands to explore the young body when they
lifted him up in the swing. Ivar missed a bit. The swing was moving. With
one leg in the swing and one hanging outside he showed off his arse globes
for the men. The split round butt with a hairless crack, and a puckered
entrance in the middle, was a hot sight in the spotlight.

Ivar was placed with his back down in the swing. He was commanded to hold
two of the chains. Then they cuffed him. His legs were lifted by the two
`leather men' and cuffed high up in the other two chains. Then they
adjusted his body and his legs so his arse was fully visible. He was locked
completely and was in the custody of three strange men.

Peder placed himself behind Ivar who let his head fell backwards. He let
two fingers play with his tongue and lips. The lad started to suck and lick
with pleasure.

"You have sucked before, haven't you?" one Dane commented. He used his huge
hands to play with Ivar's tits and belly. "You need something bigger to
suck on, don't you? Give him a mouth-fuck, Pervo. You brought the youngster
here so I guess you wait for payment."

As if he waited for permission from the masters, Peder stripped off his
towel, wanked his long thin cock, and gave it to the waiting Ivar who went
on sucking.

"The baby is leaking. You are back in kindergarten, eh. You pissed when the
uncles played with your tiny prick in the swing, didn't you baby boy?" The
huge Dane used a big tongue to clean Ivar's cock. When he pulled the tight
foreskin all the way behind the cockhead Ivar stopped sucking and shivered
in the chains, and when the man used his hard lips to mouth-fuck the
sensitive glans, Ivar screamed like a kid.

"You want me to stop? Wink three times if you really want me to stop!" The
man patted his cheek to be sure Ivar understood.

"Please master, let me cum. Let me cum!" Ivar tried to speak, but Peder
forced his cock back into his throat.

"Not yet, not yet. No hurry baby, you have just arrived! And we haven't
checked your ass yet. Bro, check if he really is the virgin Pervo Peder
says." The huge Dane handed his partner a dildo that he had taken from the
various items hanging on the chains. He spat on the golden ass-plug and let
it play along the naked arse crack. Ivar tightened and tried to block the
entrance to his arse-hole. He had been in heaven when Tom finger-fucked him
last night, but then he felt more in control of the situation. Here and
now, one part of him felt close to heaven, the other part was still afraid.

Peder mouth-fucked Ivar like a teenager, and suddenly he pulled his cock
out and started to spunk all over his body. The boy closed his eyes but
took care of the spunk that landed in his face. He knew this play from his
boss at home.

"Isn't this guy a bit old for you, Peder?" One of the Danes grinned. "Find
your bike now, and go back to your old lady."

The sudden explosion made Ivar open up and in seconds, and with a howl, the
dildo was inside.

"It's really tight here. You never had a cock in here, baby?" the masked
man asked as he fucked him lightly with the smooth item.

"I've never had a cock sir," Ivar whispered. He could hardly talk because
the combination of sucking and now the arse treatment was about to take him
over the edge. "Please let me cum, sir!" Ivar begged.

"I didn't hear you!" The masked man rotated the dildo.

"Please let me cum, master!" Ivar tried to lift his body from the swing.

"You think there are some boy-milk in here?" The huge Dane squeezed Ivar's
balls. "Maybe we could use the milking machine on this Viking. I've never
heard of a Viking-virgin before, but it could be true!"

The milking machine was made of clear plastic and fitted tight around
Ivar's 19 cm (7.5 inch) leaking cock. A handle made it possible for the
milkman to create the milking movements. The cockhead, now dark red, was
shining in the spotlight. With his cock being milked and his arse treated
with the dildo, Ivar went to heaven like the night before. The young Viking
sent his load up in the air like a geyser, again and again, and the two
Danes did not stop the action until Ivar was dry.

"Junior! Come here! Milk for you!" The masked Dane called the boy from the
other corner. "Drink it all! Helps you grow!" He grinned and unfastened
Ivar's legs from the chain.

Half an hour later, the two Danes served Ivar coffee in the small
coffee-shop downstairs. They had just left an upstairs shower where Ivar on
his knees had served the two masters who, after all, had treated him well
in his first real darkroom visit.

"Use the butt-plug and come back tomorrow and we will free you from the
virgin nightmare," the two said as they were about to walk back upstairs.

"Why did you call Peder names?" Ivar said.

"Just kidding. He's a good man, but he always finds the young ones Ð
like you!" The man thumped Ivar's shoulder.

Coming outside Ivar went straight to the Town Hall square and found the
sausage kiosk; three red Danish with bread and mustard. He was suddenly
hungry and thirsty, and very lonely. He missed Trym, his buddy, the only
guy who knew all his secrets. They had never been lovers or boyfriends,
just buddies. Ivar licked his fingers and opened the Spartacus guide. The
Town Hall clock showed two o'clock. If he remembered correctly, there was
night-pub around, open late, closing even later, the description said.

Ivar went up towards the parks, but turned right. He saw the sign in a dark
window, and he heard some music. He went inside. The room was bare and
smelled of old smoke; nobody there but an elderly man with grey untidy
hair.

"You look like you need a beer, young man!" The barman opened a bottle and
placed it in front of Ivar without waiting for an answer.

"I really do, sir. Dry as a desert." Ivar liked the man.

"A lonely young Norwegian, eh? No place to stay? I'm Caspar, with a C," he
grinned. On the jukebox Judy Garland sung `Over the rainbow'.

"Ivar!" The youngster gave Caspar a real handshake. "Not much life here."

"Early night!" Caspar wasn't into long phrases. "Just wait. Discos close
now and they will all be thirsty."

Half an hour later and the room was filled with smoking and beer-drinking
guys, a group of them dancing in front of the jukebox. Judy Garland was
replaced with Village People. And in the middle of the group a shirtless
Ivar was performing. The tight low-cut jeans hid nothing, and he didn't
seem to bother. With a dripping sweat body, closed eyes and a beer in one
hand he danced himself into the Copenhagen morning.


To be continued