Enjoy Brad's earlier adventure in "Icelandic Baths #1: Chicken".

Brad had been in Iceland on vacation for only a matter of days, but as a regular swimer back home, he had quickly found the pulic pools, heated year-round by Iceland's geothermal springs. And it wasn't long after, that he discovered how much he enjoyed the entertainment prospects in the mandatory showers.

Brad had come to the pool today hoping that he might again see someone he'd encountered on a previous visit, but he was nowhere to be seen. So he showered, swam a set of laps, sat in the geothermally-supplied hot pot for a while listening to some women socialise in Icelandic, then headed for the showers. He was rinsing off and about to head for the lockers, when a man walked in from that direction, preparing to take a good shower before swimming. Brad immediately decided to start his washing over again, pretending he had just arrived in the showers himself.

This man was quite a bit older than Brad, probably around 50, with a bit of grey in the temples. But it was clear that this was not a man who was going to let his body get soft and weak as he aged. He had bulging deltoids on his shoulders, huge lats running down either side of his back, and each nipple was mounted on a firm slab of meat. This was a body that could only have been built through many years of regular exercise, a walking advertisement for the pools of Iceland.

What public ads wouldn't show, however, was what hung between the man's legs. From beneath a jungle of hair emerged a thick tube of flesh, with several visible veins, and a huge knob at the end, covered by a heavy foreskin. Brad's first thought was of a python that had just swallowed an elephant, leaving an obvious bulge just behind its mouth. And in a hairy sac beneath this were two plum-sized globes, each seemingly trying to hang lower than the other.

The man smiled politely and greeted Brad in Icelandic; Brad just smiled and nodded in reply, not wishing to draw attention to the fact that he was a foreigner by speaking in English. The man paid no attention to Brad, as he began to wash.

He approached the task very methodically, but not in any hurry... like it was an important and enjoyable ritual he performed. He started by washing his hair, then his face. But as he began to wash his left arm, he very slowly stroked his soapy hand up and down the limb, flexing and gently massaging each sinew as he went. He then repeated the process on his right arm. He rubbed both shoulders the same way, followed by a rotating rub-down of his smooth pecs, and a slow up-and-down caress of his back and abdominal muscles. Reaching behind himself, he grabbed his ass cheeks with both hands, flexing and rubbing them in unison.

At this point, he put another squirt of soap in his right palm. With his left hand he grabbed his cock and pulled back the foreskin. He slowly rotated his right fist around the exposed head, then pulled back to soap up the shaft. After five strokes, took a ball in each palm, and worked soap into the folds of his nut-sac. Leaving his half-erect cock dangling in mid-air, he proceeded to massage soap over each of his beefy legs, much as he had with his arms.

By this time, Brad had all but forgotten about his pretense of washing himself. The sight of this powerful daddy flexing and glistening with soap was just too distracting. Brad just stood there with the water spraying on his back, sporting a hard-on which he was slowly absently massaging himself. The older man was still paying him no attention, and proceeded to rinse off, a process which followed the same pattern as the lathering, but went more quickly. Still ignoring his audience, he tucked his puffy meat into his swim suit and went outside.

Brad couldn't stand it. Looking around him, he saw no one else in the showers. Squirting a fresh supply of soap into his palm, he began to jack himself in earnest. And with all this visual stimulation, it was only a minute before he spattered cum onto the shower floor.

The following day, Brad wasn't sure whether he should go back to the pool. He was sure the older man had noticed him watching, and had simply pretended not to. And Brad couldn't face the embarrassment of running into him again. Instead he spent the afternoon and evening playing tourist, visiting Geysir, the granddaddy of all geisers, and Gulfoss, a huge thundering waterfall.

But as the sun skirted toward the horizon, and the tour bus returned to Reykjavik, he decided to go to the pool after all. Not to drool over men, but just to relax. He shared the hot tub with an elderly couple, two middle-aged businessmen, and a trio of teenage girls. Tired, he just closed his eyes and enjoyed the soothing waters.

He opened his eyes to discover that the girls were climbing out, leaving him alone in the tub. The swimming pool was empty as well. He looked over at the clock, and realised that it was 10:55 pm! He hadn't realised it was so late because this time of year the sun didn't set until shortly before midnight, so it was still quite light out. And he remembered that the pool closed at 11:00.

Sheepishly, he climbed out of the tub and strode to the showers. The two businessmen were still there, rinsing off one last time. Brad noticed (now that he was rested a bit) that one of them was actually quite attractive. Forgetting himself, he let his gaze follow the man as he walked away into the locker room. Only then did Brad turn on the shower, take off his swimsuit and start washing his face and hair.

"Making a late night of it?"

Brad nearly lost his balance as the sudden voice startled him. "My God! You scared the shit out of me!" he exclaimed, turning to see a man in his early twenties standing in the locker room doorway.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to," he apologised. Walking closer to make conversation easier, he added, "I was just trying to be friendly. We don't get a lot of tourists in here, so I thought I'd show you some hospitality and keep you company while you finished up. My name is Leif, by the way... it's my job to close the place up."

"Oh... well... no problem. I just didn't realise there was anyone there, so you startled me. No problem at all." In fact, Brad was rather pleased by the sight of Leif, who had a charming and disarming smile. "In fact, I'm sorry for holding you up like this."

"Don't worry about it. I don't mind." He paused a beat. "Not at all."

"By the way, how did... I mean... you just started talking to me in English, not Icelandic..."

"We learn English in school," Leif explained, with a hint of exasperation.

"No, I mean... how did you know I was American... a tourist? Was it because I didn't notice how late it was, because the sun was still up?"

"No, everybody loses track of the time. It was just obvious from looking at you."

"What do you mean? It's not like I'm wearing bermuda shorts, a loud shirt, and carrying maps and a camera," Brad grinned and gestured at what all he wasn't wearing.

Leif chuckled. "No, but you still don't exactly look like you're from around here. For one thing, there's that dark, hairy chest."

Brad had never thought of himself as being especially hairy... he'd certainly seen hairier men than he... but now that he thought about it, most of the men he'd been admiring in the showers had been relatively smooth-skinned.

"And your... that is... how do I say this... Your foreskin is cut. Most parents here don't do that. Other Europeans either. So I figured you were American," he shrugged.

Brad blushed. He was unaccustomed to discussing the cosmetics of his penis with strange men... at least with strange men who were fully clothed, while he stood naked in front of them.

"Don't be embarassed. I like them that way." Leif removed his shirt. "Do you..." He slipped out of his shorts, "...like them this way?"

Leif's chest was muscular and, yes, smooth. Not entirely hairless, but with just thin wisps of light hair around his nipples and between his pecs. His firm, equally smooth abdomen led down to an ample, uncircumcised cock, which was now beginning to rise.

"Well... yeah!" stammered Brad.

Leif tossed his clothes aside and stepped forward, joining Brad under the shower head. He briefly kissed Brad on the lips, then moved down to his neck, his collarbone, and his chest, licking and kissing as he went. He moaned and rubbed his face in Brad's wet chest hair, running his fingers through it. Following the trail of hair downward, Leif made his way to Brad's groin, where his cock now stood at full attention, its bare head fully engorged. Leif licked at it, running the tip of his tongue along the ridge. Then he kissed the tip, slowly working his lips around it. When he had the head fully engulfed, he reversed direction, gradually easing it out through his puckered lips.

As he started to engulf the head again, Brad started to lose his balance and slipped a little on the wet floor. "Maybe we should find some place else?" Leif offered. "With everyone gone, we can go outside."

He led the way out to the hot pot, and motioned for Brad to sit on the upper ledge. The water covered Brad's thighs, but his cock stuck up into the air. Leif kneeled in the pool itself, and returned to kissing Brad's head. After a while, he began to take in more, a little bit more each time he went down. Soon he was drilling his face all the way down to Brad's balls, splashing it in the hot water with each bob. With the water stimulating his balls and the Icelandic cock-sucker worshipping his head, Brad was on the verge of cumming. "Oh... God... I'm gonna..."

Leif abruptly stopped. "Not yet." He grinned mischievously.

Brad was stunned, his balls aching to unload. But his momentum to climax had been interrupted, so Leif was right about that. This left Brad in a frenzy, desperate for something, anything to get him off. Sliding forward off the ledge onto Leif, he pushed him down onto a lower seat, leaving only his head and chest above the steaming geothermal water. Brad then pushed him further back, onto his elbows, so only his face cleared the surface. He then straddled him, easing the Icelandic cock into his ass. The minerals in the water gave it a slippery feeling, so it made a natural lubricant. Before Leif fully realised what was happening, the American had mounted his member.

Brad's buoyancy in the water had an strange effect on his movements. Rather than rhythmically dropping himself down on Leif's pole, it was more like bobbing up and down in waves. This natural rhythm was unlike anything either of them had experienced before, and this slow-motion fuck moved Leif ever so gradually toward climax.

Counting on the water to hold his head up for breathing, Leif reached for Brad's cock to tease. Gripping it just right, he stroked it in time with Brad's bobbing, adding more momentum to his thrusts in the process.

Brad, whose cock was still raging from his near-orgasm a couple minutes earlier, suddenly found himself on a rocket-driven ride to ejaculation. With each downward movement, he felt Leif's rod plunge deeply into his ass, and his powerful hand pull downward on his own sky-reaching cock. With each push upward, Leif's hand slid up and tugged on the swollen cockhead, as Leif's head slid nearly out to his asspucker. Riding each wave, with no control left, he growled savagely as a geiser pulsed from the depths of his balls, through his fist-clenched shaft, and splashed into the twilit midnight sky.

In the midst of Brad's frantic gyrations, Leif had slipped, and his head sank beneath the water. Unable to lift himself, and with Brad completely lost on the brink of ecstacy, Leif desperately fought the impulse to gasp for air, knowing he'd only get a lungful of water. The next moment, he felt Brad's ball-wrenching orgasm begin, both through the thrusting and throbbing cock in his hand, and the spasming bowels that were milking his cock. Already highly aroused, with the oxygen levels in his bloodstream depleting by the second, his brain let loose. His balls clenched, and he experienced the most profound and mind-blowing orgasm of his life. He thought for a moment that this was death, and that he was in heaven, and his body shuddered again and again, each accompanied by another wet thrust into Brad's ass.

The next instant, Leif knew he was still alive, though, as Brad had recovered enough of his wits to pull his head and shoulders up into the air. "Oh, God! Are you OK?"

Leif gasped for air for several seconds before mustering a reply. "OK?!?" Gasp! "That was fantastic!"

Follow Brad's further adventures in "Amsterdam Clubs #1: The Cockring"

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