The tourist in Oslo

One of the warm, lazy summer days in Oslo, I had agreed to eat dinner with a friend downtown, but for some reason I arrived in the centre of Oslo about three hours early. I decided to do as so many others: enjoy the sun on the lawn in front of Stortinget (the Parliament building). I took off my t-shirt, and lay down on the ground and just rested for a while.

It was great to do nothing, just look at the sky, the people around me, the buildings. On the pavement nearby, I saw a tourist with a camera, and I noticed that he was pointing the lense in my direction. As any reader of my blog will know, I didn't mind this at all. Quite to the contrary, in summer I often dress to make sure that people see me - this time I was wearing a pair of quite short denim shorts. I was wearing them low, to show off my slim body as much as possible. In addition, the legs of the shorts were wide enough to provide tantalizing opportunities for people wanting to look. As usual, I had no underwear.

I kept looking at the tourist, who was a handsome guy in his early 20s. He was obviously focusing on me now, walking around the lawn to find the best possible angles. I kept eye contact, but realized that he wouldn't be approaching me without being nudged, so in the end I signalled that I wanted to talk to him. He seemed surprised, but came over. Before I had a chance to say anything, he said, with a French accent, "I'm sorry, I hope you don't mind that I took a few photos?" "A few?", I asked and laughed, "it must have been a hundred." He seemed worried, but I went on "Don't worry - my only regret is that I didn't bring my camera to take photos of you..."

He was obviously relieved - he must have thought that I would be angry with him for being photographed so thoroughly. He handed me his camera and said "Maybe you could take my photo here?" I took his camera, rose up and shot a photo of him with the parliament behind him. He was very cute. "Maybe one without the shirt?", I asked, and of course he let go of his polo shirt. His torso was beautiful - not that of a man who works out every day, more a natural, slim but still defined body. I shot a few more photos.

I was searching my mind for a way to keep things moving - he was obviously intrigued with me as I was with him, but I didn't see any obvious way forward. But then luck struck - the camera was out of battery. "The battery symbol has appeared", I said. He looked surprised - "already?" he said. "Okay - so we can't take any more photos..." But then he seemed to realize something and said "But I have another battery that I'm charging in my hotel room over there" (he pointed in the direction of Grand Hotel, the hotel right next to Stortinget - I couldn't believe my luck), "If you don't mind, we could go up to check if it's ready?" Of course, I nodded and went with him.

He did actually have another battery up there, and as soon as it was in the camera, I asked if I could photograph him in his room. He readily accepted. I asked him to stand by the window, then to sit in the chair, then to lie on the bed. I guess we both knew where we were going, so when I asked him if he could open the button on his shorts, he did without hesitating. Then I didn't even have to ask him to open his zipper, and then he threw the shorts on the floor. He still had a pair of briefs on - certainly too small to hide the considerable bulge. He seemed both embarrassed and proud at the same time, and I tried to catch that look on his face - and then, just as I wondered what to say to make him pull down the briefs, he did. His cock was erect, slim and long. By now, I guess he wanted me to stop worrying about the camera, but I wanted to do one more thing: I asked him to go to the window. I took a few photos with his erect cock in the foreground and the centre of Oslo in the background.

He reached for the camera and asked me to get down on the bed. I still had only my small shorts on, and he asked me to spread my legs so that he could get some nice photos of my balls. Then, without further ado, he undid the button, opened the zipper and pulled off my shorts.

Now he was in charge. He put the camera away, got down on the bed and started working on my dick with his mouth. It felt wonderful, but right now I was in the mood for something else, so I asked "Do you have condoms here?" He opened the drawer in the bedside table, and I saw he had a pack of Norwegian condoms (five left of a pack of ten) and a bottle of lube. He went down on all fours on the bed while I put on the condom. Then I put lube on the condom, as well as on a finger which I softly prepared him with. I didn't want to waste too much time on this, however, so I quickly entered him.

I don't know about you, but I think the "quality" of "bottoms" varies tremendously. There are the people who don't move, of course, who are quite boring. Then there are the ones who moves rhythmically, but never seem to get in the same rhythm as me. This guy, however, very quickly showed that he was a very active bottom. And while I often try to enter a guy carefully to avoid hurting him, here I couldn't do that - he more or less thrust his ass towards me so that I was deep inside him earlier than I expected. Actually, the whole thing combined the physical sensation of fucking with the feeling of being fucked by someone. I loved it.

Then, he decided to switch positions. He made me lie down on my back, and sat down on my dick. He started to jerk off while at the same time riding me. I was looking at his beautiful dick that was shooting up and down in tune with my cock and his ass. Then, surprisingly, he came - a spurt of sperm shot across my upper body and created a pool between my nipples, and the view of his sperm, his dick, his sexy body - and of course his still more powerful moves - made me come. A huge load entered the condom, and he kept moving up and down just long enough to get me to the edge of pain - then he lay down on top of me and kissed me.

By this time, my friend was already waiting for me in the restaurant, so I only had time for a very quick shower before I headed out of the hotel room. I asked if I could see him again, but he was heading back for Paris on that very night. I kissed him goodbye, but never even got his email address. It was only later in the evening that I remembered that I would really, really like to have the photos - both the ones of me and the ones of him...

But of course, if I ever go to Paris and have a rest on a lawn there, I will be looking out for guys with cameras.