ONE FOOT IN SWEDEN
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
"No need to go back to hotel, Eric." Lina Larsdotter assured me. "We keep you here all right."
"Well...thanks." I said. "I'd appreciate that." I wasn't being asked to stay a single night, Fru Larsdotter was inviting me to stay in her house for the rest of my stay in Arvidsjaur. Arvidsjaur is a beautiful small town in northern Sweden on the shores of a beautifully clear lake, called Arvidsjaurjon, boasting only a few thousand people and hectares and hectares of nothing but clean lakes, fir trees, reindeer, a handful of errant tourists...and me! I could explain what I was doing in this small Swedish town even though I spoke almost no Swedish (living in a place will make you pick up a language fast, though) and had no business there. But it would take quite a while and involve me telling you a lot of things that have nothing to do with this story. So take it that I was there for another six weeks and had ended up as a guest of people I barely knew, the Vesterbergs (Fru Larsdotter was actually Mrs. Vesterberg if this were America, but this was Sweden and her father's name was Lars). The rest of my stay would be with this family, these people, and I'd have to try to find some way to make myself useful or interesting to them before they tired of their American guest and I found myself back on the streets again with my money running low. "But are you sure you have enough room for me?"
"Sure we do." She assured me. "You share a bed with Olaf."
"With Olaf?" I was surprised and pleased, and didn't dare show either too much. Olaf was the consummate Swedish hunk, tall, muscled, blond-haired, blue-eyed, square-jawed, and lusciously fair-skinned. He also had a habit of not wearing as much clothes as you're supposed to. When the weather in northern Sweden turned warm, your average Swede turns his nose up at clothes save for the bare minimum to keep decent. Olaf was currently wearing only a pair of rather brief shorts, giving me an unobstructed view of a splendidly sculpted body whose muscles danced lightly about as he moved and turned and shone with an inner light of sheer beauty, like now. He was turning to face me and I just enjoyed my silent show of masculine magnificence.
"Sure you can share with me." he agreed. "My bed, she is narrow but she is long. We both can share."
"Oh...kay!" I said slowly. How do you share a narrow, long bed? Well, I'd find out tonight, and if it was intolerable, I'd search for a better place tomorrow. I liked the Vesterbergs, and hoped for the best, staying with them. I could live with a narrow bed...especially if it let me snuggle up against Olaf!
Well, Olaf had warned me but the bed was more than a little unusual. His entire room was, it was dinky and must have been part of a closet or hallway at some time in the past. Ten feet long but only about six feet wide. Half of this room was taken up by the bed. Nine feet long and three feet wide. He had a chest of drawers at one end of the room and a computer desk with computer at the other end, both were only a few feet wide. There were two windows on the far side's long wall, the door we'd entered by was in the middle of the other long end. "You see, we share easy." Olaf said as he gestured at the bed.
"Okay." I said, then when he didn't say anything else, I said, "How?"
"My head goes up here, yours goes down there." he gestured. "We both lie easy."
I looked at the bed again. "Oh. I see now." I'd heard of doing such things but never done it. Sleeping head-to-foot, that is. With my head at one end of the bed and his at the other, we'd be... "I still don't see how we'll do it." If the bed were fourteen feet long instead of nine, or if Olaf and I weren't both over six foot tall, I could see it. "If you lie there and I lie here."
"We sleep on our backs, our legs share the middle." Olaf explained. "Now we get ready for bed."
It's a weird feeling, northern Sweden in June. The sun stays in the sky way too long, it was almost ten o'clock and the sun was still above the horizon! A bit further north and it wouldn't even set!
I looked over at Olaf and gulped. He had just stripped off those brief shorts of his and was now stark nude. And he started to get in bed like that, with one knee on the bed, and looked at me. "You get ready for bed, too." he said, misunderstanding me. "It be dark soon."
"All right." I gulped, and pulled off my t-shirt. My shoes I'd already taken off (they were slip-ons) before I got a look at Olaf, so it was just my pants left. I went ahead and unzipped, slid them down and shucked them off (I'd have to wear them again tomorrow, these clothes, for my luggage was all still back at the hotel), and started to get in bed wearing my briefs.
"No, no, Eric, not that way." Olaf expostulated. I looked at him, he was pointing at my jock!
"What do you mean?"
"Take off clothes. Sleep without. Better for your skin."
"Oh, it's all right." I said, bashful all of a sudden. "I can bring my pajamas tomorrow."
"No." Olaf said emphatically. "Your skin must breathe. It is not good to have clothes in bed. Take it off, Eric. Please?"
How can you argue with a gorgeous blond hunk naked under the covers on a request like that? "Well...okay." I said. Maybe it was innocent enough, the Swedes have funny notions (funny to an American, I should say, it's normal notions where they live, that makes me the weird one) about clothing and nudity. If he said I should sleep naked, I'd better play along. Six weeks of free room and board is worth a bit of sleeping in the buff.
I crawled in and my legs immediately ran into Olaf's. "How is this going to work?" I asked him.
"Put one of your legs inside mine." he answered. I tried that and he was right, it worked. We were both lying in the same bed, and though our bodies were touching from high up our thighs down to our feet, we weren't in actual competition for any room in this bed. And our feet missed resting against our crotches by what must have been a few inches.
I settled in to try to sleep with the sun still shining and the sky still blue, though it was now a dark blue. Olaf was right, we'd have darkness in another fifteen minutes or so, I'd guess...
Olaf wriggled in the bed, I guessed to get a more comfortable position. But his wriggle brought him down my way a little. Not too far, you'd never notice it in a regular bed. But now...
His foot now rested smack up against my ballsac. My own foot still missed his, but only by the barest margin, I could move my foot and brush his testicles if I wanted to. I figured he'd realize his mistake and shift back upwards, so I waited.
And his foot began to move back and forth, the foot pivoting on the heel and he was stroking my cock with the ball of his foot and his toes. Those toes...they rubbed my glans like a series of small balls. "Uh...Olaf? What are you doing?"
"It feels good, yes?"
"Yes." I admitted. "But why are you doing it?" Okay, it's a dumb question; let's see you come up with a better one under the circumstances!
"Because it feels good to do it." Olaf supplied. "You feel good and I feel good. It is good, yes?"
"Yes." I agreed and gave up. A little bit of footsie wasn't the worst thing to do while waiting to get sleepy. I mean, it was only a foot, it wasn't like he was doing anything more than rubbing my ballsac and my cock a little.
And he pushed his foot forward and I gasped. He had caught hold of my prick (which had stiffened up quite a bit under his ministrations without my realizing it, it was semi-hard now) between the big and second toes and his foot moved back and forth, and that moved my cockskin back and forth as adeptly as any hand could have!
"Olaf, what...? What...?" I gasped as he manipulated my dong, now in full turgidity.
"I make you feel good, yes?"
"Yes." I gulped. My own foot slid downwards as I shifted and I caught his own cock in my own toes.
I should explain that I grew up on a farm in the country and like the poetic barefoot boy with cheeks of tan, I had run around with no shoes. When you don't confine your feet in shoes, you can train them to do a lot of other things. I'd pick up things with my toes and ferry them up to my hands. Enough of that and your feet become a lot like a second pair of hands. I'd wowed my frat brothers back in college by drinking a mug of beer with my feet. It's not hard, if you can't do it yourself, it's because you've locked your feet up in shoes and never let them exercise like they were supposed to. Flat feet and fallen arches are the hallmarks not of bad engineering by God, but of bad treatment by the men He gave them to!
So I was fully ready to perform as the equal of Olaf in this, though I'd never jerked another man's cock with my toes before. I scrunched my toes in a grip on his dong (not using just the big toe and its neighbor like pinchers, but the entire set like you use your fingers, wrapping them around Olaf's pud. It didn't reach all the way around but you don't need to wrap anything entirely to pick it up...or whack it off!
So in our different styles of foot-jerking, we pumped at each other's dongs, there under the light covers of Olaf's bed. Even this quilt was special-made, it was only about five feet wide but a full nine feet long, and thus covered us both fully from neck to toes to neck again. A pair of bulges along at the third and two-thirds points were our feet and cocks, the covers bucking up and down in the failing light. From my vantage, I could jerk Olaf and still watch his face at the same time. The strong blond features had become gentler, his eyes were lowered but not closed, for he was watching me as carefully as I was him. And under the covers, our feet moved.
I wanted to touch him with my hands, too, as well as my foot. I kept pumping him but my hands moved over his legs where I could reach them and my fingers found his free foot and threaded between the toes and held them in a sort of interlocking clasp. His toes flexed and it was like he was gripping me back and I felt the power in those toes, in that foot and I knew its mate held my cock in a tight grip and was flexing itself in a manner that I was now beginning to truly appreciate...my own muscles were getting tired fast with all his pedal-pushing motion it took to jerk his cock.
I cheated somewhat, in that I released my grip and recaptured him in the way he had mine, big toe and its best toe-buddy caught it between them and now I could concentrate only on pumping on that dong!
And Olaf began to groan in a way I recognized easily. This big hunk was about to come. Just from my toes jerking him off, too! Hot, oh, God, so fucking hot! Sex by foot!
Oh, shit, I was riding my own climax right up to the top!
"Ah, ah, Eric, this is good, this is very good!" Olaf groaned.
"Yeah, it is, yeah, damned good!"
"I am ready now, I am ready!" Olaf gasped.
"Me, too, oh, God, me, too!"
"Now it is, now, now!"
"Yeah, now, now!"
"AHH-HOOH-RAGGGHHH!"
"Oh-oh-oh-OH-OH-OH-OHHHHH-OHHHHH!"
I felt Olaf's spunk as it sprayed out and soaked the quilt and more ran down over my toes. It made his cockshaft slippery, my toes slipped and I had to release and regrip time and again to keep pumping on him. My own climax was also making me clumsy, for I had fireworks and was spraying my own jizz out and it was running down over Olaf's feet. I had a sudden vision of those feet, which I had seen splayed out on a coffee table earlier this evening, those big, beautiful, athletic feet, they now had my spunk dribbling down them, I could see that white fluid creeping down those big, blue-veined feet of his and it consumed my passion. Oh, God, I wanted to see those feet, I wanted to see them!
I had only a bit of daylight left to use but it would work, I tossed off the covers and looked at his foot, still gripping my pud and my own foot still on his, both of them shining with the last of the daylight, shining with our jizz.
Olaf slid further down the bed the same time I did, and soon we had each other's foot in our hand, and we were both, by common consent, licking each other's feet. I'd never enjoyed the taste of my own jizz, but flavored with Olaf's foot, it was delicious! We licked each other clean.
"That was good, yes?"
"That was damned good, yes!" I agreed emphatically.
"We sleep good now, yes?"
"I can sleep now." I agreed. And after a pause. "On one condition."
It was crowded as hell in that narrow bed, sleeping with Olaf in my arms, both of us on our sides, wrapped around each other.
But I never slept sounder.
THE END
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