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A civilized ratio – ten days of work, followed by twenty of vacation. This was Jim’s second vacation day. His time at the University of Oslo had been very well spent – lots of interactions and some actual research.
Particularly nice was the campus’s landscaping specialty: at noon on day one, when he and his “Stay at my house!” host left the man’s lab to walk across campus for lunch, the fellow had intentionally not alerted him in advance. The sky was cloudless – and every green spot, or horizontal bit of granite building, was littered with people sunbathing, all naked at least from the waist up. Pinkish-white bodies bloomed everywhere like odd, pale flowers, most of them topped by blond thatching – the occasional more swarthy skin or darker hair stood out starkly. For Jim’s taste, the sex ratio was properly skewed – most were female, and most were more than just good-looking.
His host grinned as Jim goggled, and told him “A nice custom here, don’t you think? Actually it’s a holdover from aboriginal sunbathing for rickets-prevention. Clearly not necessary in days of vitamin-D enriched milk and such. But some things are best left unchanged. One should preserve one’s culture, no?”
Jimmy agreed, and when he had almost tripped over his tongue a couple of times he managed to ask, “Am I being impolite if I stare just a little, on occasion? An awfully high percentage of your females rate more than a glance!”
The host replied with a grin, “It is of course rude to stare too much… but it is also I think, from the women’s point of view, rude not to stare at all… a delicate balance is best!” Just about then a particularly spectacular, genuinely beautiful woman arrested the host’s attention and he stared blatantly, finally catching himself and turning to Jimmy – “But of course there are special events and times…”
That first Friday evening, the host held a small party. Another sea of blond heads, moving, bobbing, friendly, almost all conversation conducted in English, nice for him although not done entirely for his benefit. During the party Jimmy and one of the most senior female graduate students had become quite friendly, progressing quickly to significantly beyond casual flirting, but he wasn’t about to proposition her. It wasn’t necessary, either – late in the evening, she asked him, directly and unexpectedly, to spend the night at her place.
Jimmy was most appreciative of both the invitation, and (especially) of the utter lack of notice taken by all within earshot when she walked up to the host and announced, without any weaseling or embarrassment-“You have nice visitors! Jimmy is coming home to spend the night with me. Don’t worry about him, I’ll get him back to you at your office undamaged and well fed by mid-morning!”
It was a glorious night –they proved to be highly compatible and equally horny. Then, a week later, that is, yesterday, she took a day of vacation herself and they spent it together, plus last night. She had just now dropped him off at the ferryboat terminal in plenty of time to catch his departure. They parted with promises of more get-togethers “Sometime, somewhere, and SOON!”
Jim settled down on the steel deck in the early afternoon’s clear subarctic northern sunlight. Scandinavia yes, but hot and bright for the moment. He was looking forward to thirty-seven hours of coastal cruising northwards under an almost never-setting sun. This ferry was one of the huge Norwegian ones, over 200 meters long, capable of carrying hundreds of cars and thousands of people. But right here he was alone in that crowd. Years at sea on research vessels had taught him that on any ship there were always a few unknown, un-inhabited spots like this one, and also how to find them. He was alone, in a good approximation of a reflector oven made up of white bulkhead, funnel and deck, with a beautiful view of the passing mountains and fjords, completely out of the wind. He was on-deck because at the last minute he decided not to book one of the little overnight cabins. Not for want of funds or dislike of sharing spaces with strangers, but because he really wanted to spend the passage outdoors, with the world in view. If needed, he could always sleep in one of the deck chairs – his so-called “standing room” ticket guaranteed him that. He had stuffed his big backpack into one of the coin-operated lockers and then gone on the prowl, winding up here.
The steel deck was actually hot, not to mention rough with antiskid sand in the paint. He wished he’d had enough sense to bring his sleeping bag pad to sit on, but it was now several decks away, and retrieving it would cost him another fistful of coins – no in-and-out privileges on the lockers. Drowsy with the warmth and deliciously tired from a not-very-sleep-filled night with his impromptu personal hostess, he studied the hot metal against the backs of his legs, watched the landscape slide past at twelve knots. Fleeting, nearly subliminal memories bağdat caddesi şişman escort of his last-night’s partner stirred his cock slightly, raised a slender tickle of resurgent horniness in the bases of his groin and skull alike, which he tried to ignore. Beneath his butt, the ship was a living thing, vibrating, breathing, shifting like an enormously powerful animal. It felt good – a familiar, happy environment for a seagoing oceanographer.
Then, suddenly, an interruption.
Around the corner came a trio of young women, near clones, all of them of a size, one of them was clearly the eldest –by a scant year or so at most. Collectively, they were slender, with corn-silk blond hair, bright blue eyes, translucent skin. In short, fine specimens of young Scandinavian Womanhood. They carried a blanket and a thermos-box. “Crap! Damn the luck!” he thought to himself. He waited for the rest of the group, which he felt was sure to follow, and tried not to be upset.
He was wrong on both counts – as to followers and his own luck. N=3 was the entire herd. They looked as startled to see him as he was to see them. As Jim briefly scanned them he replaced his first uncharitable reaction with something considerably more mellow. After all, here were three pretty ‘native’ females – something he heartily approved of, especially in Scandinavia. As to luck, well, he thought, it could have been a gaggle of obnoxious twelve-year old boys just as easily.
His presence had them slightly rattled. Hidden behind his dark sunglasses, Jim studied them as the ladies very quickly reassembled their wits. They were all genuinely attractive. Long legged, all of them, underpinnings dangling down very nicely – one pair obviously shaved, the other two sets delicately a-glint, in the bright sunlight, with tiny golden shimmerings. One woman had a perceptible edge in age: she was clearly the alpha-female and current leader. She looked at least nineteen, more likely twenty-something-small. Without stretching things, the other two women were probably nineteen, not less… but that would be speculation on his part, yielding a guess rather than a deduction. Especially given how long such Scan-women stayed ridiculously young-looking. He dismissed as unfounded any concerns about age and proprieties, and thought to himself that it was nice, for a change, to be able to actually look long and thoroughly at a trio of pretty women without being crowd-constrained… or companion-constrained.
The two betas had remarkably similar physiognomies – meaning ‘visible body structures’. They could well have been fraternal twins, although not identicals. (For not the first time, he marveled at how a person’s good scientific training could lend itself to use in so many ways! Taxonomic eyes trained on mid-ocean plankton, now giving him detailed but disguised information about blond Scandinavian beauties. What a hoot!).
His eyes also told him instantly that the two betas were most likely unrelated to the leader – the facial and hip structures were too different for them all to share common genetics. Of course, at some level they would be related – to one another and even to blond, blue-eyed Jerry himself. Despite the visible external diversity, the Scandinavian gene pool wasn’t all that big, and had been for many generations relatively undiluted (ignoring trivia such as Viking problem!).
He did appreciate, instantly and unreservedly, their relaxed and revealing approach to clothing. Three near-clonal versions of the current style of ultra-small hiphugger shorts, the sisters wore literally- identical outfits not more than one size apart. All three pairs of shorts were very small and tight indeed – cut both low aloft and high below. As they moved about, he was presented with the exposed bottom edges of buttocks. The three had no slightest traces of belly-fat on them, the front edges of belt-lines hung suspended in the air between clearly visible pelvic wings, lateral abs dipping out of view as they went south. The leader’s beltline was so low that he really thought he should be able to see the foothill of her mound, if the angle were right. All were in short midi-blouses tied very high for maximum belly-exposure, apparently the day’s (week’s? month’s?) hot style. Serious hillocks of boob showing through the all-but-transparent blouse-fabric on the leader, but there was nothing quite so obviously visible on the others.
Short analysis – all three were extraordinarily sexy, and totally un-self-conscious. And so far as he could tell, the clothing and their wearing of it were completely unaffected; at any rate, the ladies seemed utterly ignorant of their effects on his libido. Against his wishes, his cock brittled slightly.
The trio looked at one another, then at him, until finally the leader said something to him in Norwegian – which didn’t help a bit. He recognized the language, but spoke it not at all. bağdat caddesi ucuz escort He shrugged, said “Sorry, I don’t speak Norge… English, Spanish, Russian even, maybe some French, but not THAT one!”
At that they all grinned at him, and she tried English. Very good English, in fact, with just a trace of off-idiom. He was impressed. “We are sorry to bother you…” she said: “We are just looking for a warm place in the sun, without crowds of people. My family rode on this ship once before, on vacation last year, and I found this place, so I brought my two friends. We were just going to put down our blanket and lie in the sun, sunbathing. But we should not bother you. This looks like your private place, no?!”
Six eyes studied him, seeking a reaction. He didn’t sense any uneasiness, rather a pique of curiosity, and a hopefulness that he might invite them to share “his” realm. He could be persuaded.
He smiled at them, waved his hand at the space beside him and said “I don’t own the ship, unfortunately. We are all just renting some ship-space for a while, aren’t we? Besides, I would certainly like the company of three beautiful young women, so please put down your blanket and join me!”
It was obvious from the two sisters’ reactions that they, too, understood everything he had said… more results of the region’s insistence on early and intensive English studies. The two sisters’ English turned out to be better than merely acceptable, but not up to their leader’s level. His compliment was accepted gracefully with three quick and very friendly smiles. The girls did a brief eye-to-eye cross-check, nodded, said “Thank you!” together.
The eldest was carrying their blanket, and said “Since we are interrupting your place, and making you share it with us, you should share with us our blanket. You cannot be very comfortable sitting on the hot metal floor! But why didn’t you bring a blanket from your cabin, for your sitting and lying in the sun?”
He shrugged, grinned, and told them he didn’t have a cabin, that he wanted to watch the scenery. They understood, and nodded as he scooted sideways a bit to give them enough room. Together they spread the blanket and finally made their introductions. Brigit, the leader, then Penelope-call-her-Penny and Marit. As his name, he offered them a choice of James, Jim or Jimmy, and they unanimously chose Jimmy. The fact that they got to “name” him seemed to warm things perceptibly.
The blanket was plenty big enough for four, if carefully laid out like sausages on a grille. They settled down in a row on their backs, leaning on their elbows so they could watch the coast sliding by. He was on the end, Brigit next to him. From behind his glasses he had a spectacular view down the three bellies – most especially down Brigit’s – if only he had a flashlight and freedom of movement, he was sure he would be able to see her mound now – the upper edge of hugger-fabric was literally half an inch above her belly, spanning the airspace between hip-bones.
And there was the edge of a tattoo showing at the edge of the shaded skin! “Probably one of those dime-store appliqué things”, he thought. But interesting nonetheless. Nifty! And if real, what might it say about liberalness, sexuality – and such? Speculation was so much fun!
All three were first-class chatterboxes when they got going – growing rapidly more animated and friendly. Conversation waxed and built, and nobody came along to interrupt. That unusual, ongoing privacy encouraged the exchange, and it flowed easily.
When asked, he told them about himself, oceanographer, general biologist, lots of seagoing experience, presently here by himself, on vacation for several weeks, and with no fixed schedule.
They were fascinated by the ocean and for many minutes the conversation became a Q&A session about the waters they were traversing.
He got their story as well… it involved a complicated causal chain. They were part of a mixed-ages group of 25, all members of some organization the English name of which they puzzled over, settling on “Young Women’s Nature and Culture Appreciation Society”. It was, apparently, quite an international organization, and quite popular across Scandinavia. It specialized in multi-day “nature-viewing, multicultural” treks. Their immediate group was off on a long-planned communal ten-day culture-and-nature hiking tour, sponsored by the Society.
It was an expedition organized, and supposed to be led, by a woman who wasn’t present – seems she had come unglued from her bicycle in a rainstorm, and broken something in her foot, a non-critical bone but one definitely required on this trip. As an emergency fix the group was now being captained by Margot, Brigit’s 24-year-old big sister, a schoolteacher and quite experienced in handling such events. Margot was up forward with the main contingent, getting them settled.
In bağdat caddesi yabancı escort addition to the broken bone, there had also been some minor scheduling foul-ups on the ship. Their assigned block of cabins couldn’t hold everybody, and couldn’t be augmented with another cabin next-door, all such being occupied. However, once blame was found to lie with the ship’s scheduler and not with the group, corporate responsibility had been immediately assumed and these three had been chosen by Margot to have their own slightly more deluxe cabin, separated from the main body by most of the length and height of the ship.
In their ‘special’ cabin they had found a vase of flowers, a card of apology, and a bottle of wine, from management. They roundly pooh-poohed the wine, for its quality… and did so in knowledgeable terms. And, they agreed, despite the quality, they would simply have to drink it tonight. It would be impolite to do anything else, wouldn’t it? But slowly – each had been drunk exactly once and didn’t want a repeat. Again, he was impressed. His own “never again drunk” epiphany had waited until midway through his time in the Marines, at age 23.
Explanations flowed: Margot, as overall leader, of course stayed with the main body. As to the immediate triad – Brigit was in charge of the subset, being both the oldest member of this isolated subset, and sister to the overall leader. The three were obviously pleased at being off on their own. Margot’s only requirement for the trio was that they should appear at muster tomorrow mid-day, at a specific locus and time, just before the ship docked. Against possible confusion, each carried her own railway ticket to the first night’s lodging – the failsafe was to show up at that station at the end of the train ride, if you got separated. Problems seemed unlikely – each was an experienced railway traveler in her own right, because that was the normal-mode for local transportation, private cars being monstrously expensive, the roads medieval, and the rail system superb.
In the conversation, Brigit’s age managed to slip out, the datum accidentally provided by the sisters. The disclosure was much to Brigit’s chagrin, because ever since lying down beside Jimmy she had been actively contemplating adding two or probably three years if the topic were to come up, purely to impress him, and she had been silently wondering how to do without getting an unfortunate rise from the two sisters, who knew the correct number! That revelation allowed Jimmy to trot out his genetic observations – when he declared it highly probable that the two sisters were, in fact fraternal twins, and also unrelated to Brigit, there was a collective gasp, followed by congratulations on his being correct, and a request for explanations. It also brought out the facts that at birth Penny had preceded Marit by less than ten minutes, and that the pair were only a couple of months younger than Brigit.
Conversation eventually languished, and they all lay there just soaking up sun. Jimmy wondered idly about the real possibility of sunburn this close to the Arctic Circle, and finally said something about it, much to the amusement of the girls.
That comment re-started things, and the three stood up, excused themselves politely and moved aside briefly for a short confab, instigated by Brigit. He enjoyed the changed view, especially of snugly-sheathed bottoms, and was only very slightly embarrassed when he noticed Brigit as she watched the watcher (“Gotcha!”), right through the conversation she was having with the sisters – good multi-tasking! Brigit was facing him, and he could see the gentle play of muscles under her belly-skin – she had a perfect, darkly indwelling navel, exactly the sort that could legitimately wear a piercing without ostentation. But there was no jewelry there – or anywhere at all on the group. No makeup, either – and no need.
At the end of the ladies’ private discussion, Brigit turned to him and said, “You know, Jimmy, we usually don’t wear our shirts for sunbathing, here in our own country. Or in most Scandinavian countries. We sunbathe whenever we can, because we all need the sunshine, you know, in order for our bodies to make our vitamins. And it is much more comfortable that way. We are already nearly sweating in this nice warm place. Would that be okay, for us to take off our blouses?”
She paused: all three studied him intently.
He tilted his head, blessed his sainted stars, managed to shrug nonchalantly and say “Sure!”
In perhaps five seconds the twins were nude to the waist. He let himself stare, and when, finally, they simply HAD to let themselves officially notice his examination, they blushed nicely. He grinned and let out a tiny low whistle, then said “You are both very pretty! Very! I like this view very much! I’m a lucky man today!”
They reddened more deeply but looked quite pleased, not the least upset by the attention, which he had somehow managed to lodge at just the right level – pleasing but short of causing real embarrassment. Penny stuck out her tongue at him – he reciprocated.
Neither sister had a particularly well-developed bosom – in fact, it was most likely that they had reached their genetic maximum by now…which was fine with him because of his love of “itty-bitty-titties”.
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