"Why are you going to Iceland?" people had asked Brad, when he told them about his plans for the summer. After all, most of them had barely heard of the North-Atlantic island country, and didn't even know what the place was like. Which was exactly the point.

"Because no one I know has ever been there," he'd explained. It was to be an adventure, a chance to explore a strange new world.

Contrary to what most people assumed, Iceland was not icy... at least not along the coast, where everyone lived. In fact, thanks to geothermal energy from sitting on the meeting of two continental plates, there was always plenty of bubbling water available to heat things up.

Brad was fond of swimming (with a slim, muscular body to show for it), so he was especially pleased to discover that all this cheap hot water had led to a culture of public bathing. Almost every city or large town had a public heated outdoor swimming pool, where much of the population frequently went for a dip. Brad enjoyed the warm, Olympic-sized swimming pool. And the smaller "hot pots", where the hot water was piped in, uncooled, were relaxing. But he thought of the showers as heaven.

In the U.S., most people ignored or hurried through the showers at public pools. But to Brad's surprised delight, Icelanders took the showers seriously. They'd strip naked and spend several minutes carefully and thoroughly soaping and rinsing themselves before - and after - swimming. Bathing suits went on only for the "all ages" "mixed company" of the pool itself.

Another reason Brad liked the showers was that Icelanders are descended from Norse vikings and other Scandinavian stock, and he was a real sucker for that type. And almost by definition, the men who came to the pool tended to be in pretty good shape, since they all exercised regularly. But best of all was the variety. Men and boys (and females) of every age came to swim, to socialize, to sit in the bubbling spas, and/or to play.

This was Brad's first visit to this particular pool. He'd had the showers mostly to himself before his swim, but while he was swimming laps, he noticed several attractive teenage boys hanging out in the hot pot. They were obviously good friends, talking boistrously among themselves in Icelandic, periodically erupting in laughter. As Brad finished his 20th lap, the boys climbed up out of the tub. Watching four tight, young, bikini-covered asses wiggle toward the showers, Brad decided he was ready for the showers himself.

The teenagers had already stripped when he walked in, and had gathered at one end of the room, each squirting a handful of soap into his hand and turning on a shower head to wash the sweat and mineral-laced water away. Brad found a shower a short distance from them, where he could easily observe without drawing attention to himself.

The young man nearest Brad was the tallest, a couple inches taller than him, in fact. He had muscles to match, obviously the oldest of the boys, with the highest levels of testosterone coursing through his veins. His voice was the deepest, a rich baritone that resonated strongly through the shower room in his nordic language. And an uncut cock that hung nearly five inches, even soft.

The pup next to him was probably his younger brother, Brad guessed, because he had the same face but with smoother lines, and his cheeks showed no signs yet of whiskers. When he laughed it was a melodic, boyish giggle. He was a few inches shorter than Brad, and was more slender than his brother. His uncut cock wasn't nearly as long and thick, and had only a small patch of hair at its base, but it was semi-hard and sticking out a bit. No one - except Brad - paid any attention to it. After all, boys his age were always getting spontaneous hard-ons, and these guys were used to seeing each other nude.

The third teenager was a red-head, and the orangy hue of his pubes confirmed that his hair color wasn't just bleached by the midnight sun. Brad remembered that the Norse god Thor was supposed to have had red hair. But this boy wasn't ready for the big bushy beard the thunder god wore; his sideburns faded as away they passed his earlobes. He had his back to Brad most of the time, so Brad didn't get to see much of his dick, but the firm, well-defined ass he showed was a fine consolation prize.

The last of the youths, the farthest from Brad, was the most delectable. Not that the others were unattractive, of course, but this one was Brad's favorite. For one thing, had a positively adorable face, with beautiful blue eyes, cute-as-a-button nose, and firm slender lips. His wet, sandy-blond hair hung down in his face. Since he was facing his friends (who were between him and Brad) much of the time, mostly listening to them and watching as they chattered back and forth, Brad had a clear view of him from the front. He wasn't particularly brawny, but there was scarcely an ounce of fat visible on his body, so his muscles stood out in clear relief. He glanced over toward Brad from time to time while Brad was surveying his friends, not entirely sure what to make of the stranger who'd joined them in the showers. And a bit of a smile began to appear.

While the teenager was soaping up his hair and face, Brad took advantage of his temporary blindness to look him over intently, slowly moving his eyes down the glistening body, visually caressing the broadening shoulders, lingering on a nipple with its few thin hairs, gliding down the smooth hairless abdomen, admiring the four flaccid inches of dick, the plump head that peeked out from the foreskin at the end, and the almost hairless balls that hung behind it, taking in a leanly muscled leg, then working his gaze back up the other side.

When he got back up to the face, he was startled to see the young man looking back at him. Their eyes met for just a moment, then the teenager abruptly broke away, turned his back, and resumed washing himself intently. He glanced back at Brad briefly, and appeared to be blushing. Hastily, he finished rinsing the soap off his body, turned off the water, grabbed his swim suit, and headed for the lockers. His friends did likewise and followed him.

Not wanting to be obvious about following them, Brad lingered a while in the shower before heading for the lockers himself. The locker he'd used happened to be out of sight from the boys', so he could only listen to them chatting unintelligibly as they finished putting on their t-shirts and jeans. As they left the locker room together, and walked past Brad's row of lockers, the quiet and pretty one glanced very quickly at him. Brad happened to be tucking himself into his briefs at the moment, and smiled. Then they were out the door. Of course, by the time Brad was dressed and outdoors, they were gone.

The next day, Brad was back at the pool, hoping that he'd get another chance to watch the young studs he'd watched the day before. "Maybe they come here every day after school or something," he mused. Not likely. And he wasn't that lucky.

He was luckier.

He left his clothes in a locker, and walked carrying his bathing suit to the men's shower room. It was standing room only. The local football team (or "soccer" as Brad would have called it) had their practice field taken over that afternoon by some junior-high track and field event, so they'd decided to go for a swim instead. Everywhere Brad turned there was a buff young athlete, butt naked and washing every part of his body in preparation for a swim. Best of all, there were no showers open, so Brad was "forced" to just stand there looking around, waiting for one to open.

But it didn't take long before one of the footballers slipped into his racing suit and walked out to the pool. Brad was sorry to see him leaving, but was more than happy to fill his slot in the rows of flesh. Flanked by forwards, there was only one direction he could look without getting prime view of Icelandic beef. "And it would hardly be polite of me to face the wall the whole time I'm showering!" Brad thought, grinning.

As he was starting to soap up, one of the team members reached over and grabbed the bathing suit of the man on Brad's left. It quickly turned into a game of "keep away", as the swatch of nylon was tossed from one player to another. As often as not, instead of catching it, they'd bat it with their foot to another player, ignoring the protests (and attempts at blocking) by the victim. Brad didn't understand a word of what they were calling back and forth to each other, but it was a pleasure just to watch these muscular studs making their moves in the nude.

Without warning, the suit landed at Brad's feet. Delighted to be included in this little game (even if by accident), he snatched it up and lobbed it across the room to one of the other players. From then on, he was a frequent "intended receiver" for the ball (of nylon).

After a while, however, the butt of this little prank began to look dismayed, fearing that everyone was against him, and he'd never get his suit back. So when the suit next came to Brad, he caught it, then gently tossed it to its owner. The other players howled in protest, but the young man smiled warmly at Brad. "Tokk fyrir," he said in thanks, as he stuffed his cock and balls into the nylon pouch, then turned and headed for the pool. Their fun ended (for the moment), the rest of the team finished washing, donned their suits, and followed him.

Brad hadn't actually gotten around to washing himself yet, so he promptly turned to the task at hand, eager to join his new "playmates" in the pool. He lathered, rinsed himself clean, put on his suit, and walked toward the door. Then, out the corner of his eye, he noticed a figure lurking in the lavatory just off the now-empty showers. When he turned to look, the figure ducked behind the wall.

"Hello?" Brad ventured.

After a pause, a face appeared. "Hi." It was the youth who had caught Brad checking him out the day before. He was blushing brightly at having been discovered, and held his towel in front of him, obscuring the view of his naked crotch.

"Who're you hiding from?" Brad asked. "The um, 'football' team? I'm not with them..."

The kid laughed quietly. "No, obviously not. They speak Icelandic, for example."

"Yeah, I guess they do," admitted Brad with smile and a shrug. "My name's Brad, by the way, from America. Ohio."

"Hi-o," the youth answered, mistaking the state name for a greeting. "I'm Kristian." (Brad recognised that this was his name, not his religion.)

"So, Kristian," ventured Brad, slipping into small-talk, "Do you come swimming here every day?"

"No, usually just once a week or so. I came back today hoping... Oh, never mind."

"No, tell me."

"I thought you might be back."

"Same here."

"For really?" the teenager asked, not quite daring to believe it.

"Yeah. I think you're really cute."

Suddenly the teenager opened up. "So are you! I thought so when I saw you yesterday, but I didn't want to say or do anything because... well, I was with my friends and I didn't want them teasing me about finally having a boyfriend. They know I'm gay, and it's OK, but they think it's funny that I don't have a girlfriend or boyfriend yet when I'm already eighteen."

"That old?" thought Brad. "I would've guessed sixteen, but I can't very well ask him for ID now, can I?" Speaking aloud, he replied, "A boyfriend? So were you planning to ask me out tonight? Or were you just going to sneak around and watch me?"

"I... I don't know." Kristian fell silent and disappeared back into the lavatory.

Brad followed, getting increasingly turned on by the boy's shyness. "So, if you don't have a boyfriend, have you ever fucked?" Kristian shook his head. "Not even a blow job?" Another shake. "Kiss?"

"Would you?" He looked hopeful. "Please?"

Brad took Kristian by the shoulders and planted a soft, sensual kiss on his lips. After a moment's hesitation, Kristian began to kiss back, practically devouring Brad's lips. "Wow," thought Brad, "This kid's motor is really revving! Do I dare put him into gear?"

"What the hell... why not?" he said aloud, leading Kristian into a stall, in case anyone came in to use the toilets. Prying the towel from the youth's hands, he saw that yesterday's four inches had grown to at least six, not especially thick, but beautiful nonetheless. The foreskin had rolled most of the way back, revealing a tender and pink, but surprisingly large head. Brad sat on the commode, and proceeded to gently run his fingers up and down the youthful organ. The boy gasped quietly.

Brad looked up at the young man, as if to ask for final confirmation that he wanted to go through with it. But he was so smitten with the look of rapture on the face that looked down on him, that he knew he had full consent. Licking his lips, he pursed them, and in one slow motion, slid them down the full length of the shaft. A whimper of pleasure came from above.

Brad tried to take it slow from there, wanting Kristian's first blow-job to be gentle and special, but the kid's pent-up hormones had other plans. After half a dozen times up and down like this, Brad found Kristian's hips jerking forward, awkwardly a first, but quickly getting a rhythm that put him on a fast track to ejaculation. Brad stopped bobbing, and concentrated on maintaining a steady target for Kristian's piston to slide in and out of. The kid was fucking his face like a maniac, clearly shooting for the fastest possible release. Sure enough, within a minute the boy whimpered again, gasped "Oh!" and something Brad didn't understand, and unloaded stream after stream of hot cum into Brad's mouth. Brad nearly choked on the volume of semen, but managed to swallow it all.

Brad stood up and kissed the youth, first passionately, then gradually easing off. He figured Kristian needed some winding down before they parted, and a little afterglow kissing should do the trick. But as Brad started backing away, Kristian asked him please not to go. "No, I want to finish. I kissed, I had a blow job, now I want to fuck." Brad stood amazed at his luck. "Please?" Kristian begged. "Would you please fuck me?"

Brad quickly sneaked out to the showers and came back to the toilet stall with a handful of soap. He smeared his eager cock with it, then reached between Kristian's cheeks and fingered his ass. The kid was tight as a snare drum at first, but gradually relaxed enough for Brad to fit a finger in, then two, then the tip of a third. "I can work with that," he thought.

He maneuvered Kristian into position, bending him over with his hands on the commode. He started by nudging the Icelander's crack with his dick, then pressed the head of it just barely into the virgin hole. Kristian turned his head around, expectantly, and when he made eye contact with Brad, grinned from ear to ear, a smile warm enough to melt butter.

At that, Brad's hormones took over, and he pushed longingly into Kristian's ass. The boy cried out "Oooh!" quietly, and Brad stopped, but another sidelong smile - this one of pride and satisfaction - gave Brad the go-ahead to bury it.

Slowly at first, but with growing speed, Brad squeezed his cock in and out of the eager young ass. From time to time, Kristian wiggled his slender hips a bit, sending waves of pleasure through Brad's shaft. And before long, Kristian's hips were again thrusting in rhythm, this time bucking up against the invading rod. But it was Brad's orgasm they were working on, so he continued to set the pace himself. He wasn't prone to shooting quickly, and he wanted to make this fuck last as long as he could get away with. But the sight, the sensation, and the good old-fashioned infatuation he had for this teenager made it difficult for him to hold back. Any minute now....

"Wait!" cried Kristian. "Not like this. I want to see you." He pulled away from Brad, and sat down on the commode. Rolling backward on his hips, he spread his legs and offered his ass to Brad the other way around. Brad squatted lower, and eased his cock back into Kristian's hole. He liked this. It gave him more leverage, and he did like being able to see Kristian's beautiful face, now contorted with a mixture of pain, pleasure, and pride. He could see the teenager's chest muscles tense up and relax, and could watch as the cock he'd recently sucked off again grew long and hard. But his attention was repeatedly drawn back to Kristian's eyes, which stared intently at Brad.

It took Brad a few minutes to work his way back toward the brink of climax. Whenever he thought he might be going too hard, the look of satisfaction on Kristian's face - and the increasing hardness of the kid's cock - reassured him that he should keep at it.

As Brad was getting close to shooting his load, he noticed that Kristian's expression had changed. It was if he were choking, his eyes grew wide, and he began to whimper again. Kristian grabbed at Brad's arms and wouldn't let go. At first Brad was alarmed, but then he realized what was happening, and thrust harder. Goaded only by Brad's pounding from within, an ongoing rush of hormones, and the intensity of a youth losing his virginity, Kristian's cock erupted again, quivering by itself as it splattered his smooth tummy and chest with semen. Unable to hold back himself, Brad let loose with a grunt and flooded the teenager's ass with cum.