A/N - I only visited Tromso the once during my time living in Europe. What happens in this story isn't true but there is a sembalcne of reality in what is mentioned at certain times. Whatever the case, I can only recommend a visit to northern Norway should you ever find yourself in that neck of the woods.
Previous stories in this series:
Love Around the World - Andorra (Mature)
Love Around the World - Bangkok, Thailand (Interracial)
Love Around the World - Colombia (Transgender)
Love Around the World - Dresden, Germany (Romance)
Love Around the World - Estonia (Group Sex)
Love Around the World - France (Anal)
Love Around the World - Guangzhou, China (Interracial)
Love Around the World - Hungary (Incest)
Love Around the World - India (Interracial)
Love Around the World - Japan (Mature)
Love Around the World - København, Denmark (Transgender)
Love Around the World - London, England (Transgender)
Love Around the World - Montenegro (Mature)
Love Around the World - Nepal (Romance)
Love Around the World - Oviedo, Spain (Incest)
Love Around the World - Phnom Penh, Cambodia (Incest)
Love Around the World - Quezon City, Philippines (Transgender)
Love Around the World - Reykjavik, Iceland (Incest)
Love Around the World - Sri Lanka (Interracial)
Australian / British standard English. There is a good chance of reading the following: lots of profanity, characters drinking, typos, and bad grammar at times.
Proofreading and editing suggestions provided by OhDave1. Any mistakes are still mine.
Comments are appreciated as always.
Feedback by email is always welcome. Enjoy chatting with anyone who likes my work.
*****
A man finds unexpected love in the north of Norway.
*****
As she cuddled into me, my fingers caressing the soft skin of her back, I couldn't hold back the sigh as I knew this would be one of the last times that I'd ever hold her like this in my arms. My flight was in a few days, and I wasn't sure if or when I'd return.
"It's okay, baby," she whispered, lifting her hazel eyes to look at me, "I'm going to miss you too."
"I still can't believe it's been five years, and she still hasn't said a word to me."
"Well, you are twenty-three now, Mark. And you were eighteen... Barely eighteen, but you were eighteen the first time we were intimate."
"Best birthday present ever," I whispered, "My mother's best friend..."
"I'm sure you were just living out the fantasy millions of young men have had."
"You were always my fantasy, Cathy."
"I know, baby... It's why I came around that night and asked you to join me for dinner. The only thing I wasn't aware of was the fact you were still a virgin."
"I wasn't interested in girls my age. I'm still not."
Catherine was my first lover. I'd had a crush on her for years. I had no idea she was interested in me in return. I wasn't really anything special. I was five-eleven. Kept myself fit by playing sports. Normal brown hair. Blue eyes. When I was eighteen, she was thirty-nine. Single mother to three children, all of them younger than me by a few years.
That first time was magical, and she taught me everything I now know about being with a woman. Not just in the bedroom. She knew of my interests, teaching me all about dating an older woman, and what they would expect from someone my age. She assured me that women her age were usually settled in life and wouldn't be interested in playing games. If they wanted to date me, they would. If they wanted to sleep with me, they wouldn't be shy in letting me know.
Catherine is twenty-one years older than me. I've never slept with a woman within ten years of my age. Catherine never expected me to be exclusive, she just asked me to be somewhat safe when it came to selecting any partner I chose to sleep with.
In addition to Catherine, I have enjoyed other mature women over the years. Ms Simonsen lives down the road and I'd often helped her out with some chores. She was always kind and friendly with me, and once I hit eighteen, the flirting definitely increased between us. I was nineteen when she gave me a call one afternoon, asking if I could come down and help her out with something.
Knocking on her front door, she opened it up wearing a silk robe, and I didn't miss the stockings and heels on legs and feet. That had me looking at her curiously before I stepped inside and closed the door, Ms Simonsen opened the robe to reveal some exquisite lingerie.
"I'm a fifty-two-year-old single woman, Mark," she said softly, "The last time I was intimate with a man, I was still in my forties."
"Ms Simon..."
"Call me Mary, Mark. And I need to know what you think?"
"Absolutely gorgeous."
"Would you like to join me in the bedroom? I'll cook us dinner afterwards and I'm hoping you might stay the night?"
"Um... Mary..."
Pressing her body into mine, she leaned up to kiss me. "I'm not after anything serious, Mark. You're nineteen years old with all your life ahead of you. But I know you're single and probably having fun. That's all I want. To enjoy a virile young man from time to time." When I lifted a hand to caress her face, the soft smile suggested it was a gesture she loved. "Ever been with a woman my age?"
"No. But I'm now rather curious as to what you'll look like naked."
"I hope you like mature women with big tits and a nice curvy butt!" Pressing my body into her, her eyes widened for a moment before she giggled. "I think the thing poking me is evidence of your approval."
"We should definitely move this to the bedroom."
Catherine knew all about Ms Simonsen the day after. Thankfully, she showed absolutely no jealousy, and when I told Ms Simonsen about Catherine, she laughed out loud at the idea that I was being intimate with my mother's best friend yet thinking my mother wouldn't know about it.
"Of course! She'd know all about it, but it's your life, and I know Catherine well enough. You put a smile on her face as much as you put a smile on mine."
My third mature lover was an unexpected surprise and yet another fantasy of many young men. I was out one evening with a couple of friends from work at a local pub when I recognised a familiar face sitting at a table by herself. She looked a little lonely, even sad, so taking note of what she was drinking, I bought a couple of drinks and approached her table.
"Miss Fredericks?"
Lifting her brown eyes, she took a couple of seconds to figure out who I was before a sweet smile formed. "Mark Jones? What are you doing here?"
"This is my local, Miss." I placed the wine glass down. "I saw you over here and... Well..."
"Take a seat, Mark. It's nice to see a friendly face."
I hadn't seen any of my teachers since I'd left school after my last exams. She's always been one of my favourite teachers and she had been my history teacher for four of my six years in high school. We spent a couple of hours catching up, Miss Fredericks interested in what I'd been doing since I'd left high school. When it came to asking about her life, the sadness returned. Moving to sit next to her, I held her hand as I thought she was about to start crying.
"I was happily married for nearly twenty years, Mark," she said, taking out a tissue as she sniffled a couple of times, "And I was still happily married up to three months ago. Or, at least, I was happily married. Until the night my husband came home and told me he'd fallen in love with someone else and he was leaving me."
"Man's obviously a fool to leave you for someone else." That made her look at me, curiosity in her eyes before I added, "I was never blind to how pretty you are, Miss."
"Janette. You can call me Janette now, Mark." She continued to meet my eyes before asking, "Do you mean that?"
"I'm sure I wasn't the only boy in school who had a crush on his history teacher."
"You're how old now?"