This erotic short story was written for SnakkOmSex. If you would like to read Norwegian language stories click here.
For more English language stories click here.

So, I’m sitting there, halfway through a kinda meh kebab at this little dive on Storgata in Lillehammer, Norway, when I catch her staring at me from the counter. Not even trying to hide it, just full-on gawking while she waits for her food. Now, I’m not one to get all weird about a stare, but there’s something about her, maybe it’s the half-zipped jacket with some old, faded band tee peeking out, or that messy bun with hair just falling everywhere, that makes me slow down my chewing, like I gotta figure out what’s up with her. Lillehammer’s tiny, right? Like, barely 28,000 people, so you’re always bumping into the same folks at spots like Ali’s Kebab. But her? Never laid eyes on her before.

Look, I’m not exactly a prize, okay? I’m 34, got a bit of a beer belly from hitting up Ølhallen too much, and my beard’s patchy as hell. I work at the local Coop Extra, stocking shelves, dealing with grumpy old ladies who can’t find their oatmeal for the life of ‘em. It’s not a dream job, but it keeps the lights on. Oh, and I’m Torvald, by the way. Sounds like some Viking nonsense, but nah, it’s just what my folks stuck me with. So anyway, I’m sitting there, sauce dripping all over my hoodie, when she finally grabs her order and comes over. Doesn’t even ask, just drops down across from me at this rickety-ass table. “You’re not from around here, are you?” I blurt out, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Real classy, I know.

She smirks, peeling open her shawarma like she’s got nowhere to be. “Nah, just passing through. Got a job interview tomorrow at the hospital up on Maihaugen. Thought I’d grab something cheap to eat tonight.” Later, she tells me her name’s Ingrid, which is like, the most basic name around here. Her voice has this rough edge, like she’s smoked one too many or hasn’t slept in days. Maybe both. Says she’s from Trondheim, down on her luck after some ugly breakup, trying to start fresh as a nurse or something. I don’t dig too deep, honestly, I’m not into hearing everyone’s sob stories, but I like that she doesn’t bullshit. She just talks, straight-up and blunt, while I nod and shove more food in my face.

Lillehammer’s not exactly popping with excitement, y’know? Winter’s all about the ski tourists, and the rest of the time, it’s just us locals griping about the weather or the damn potholes on Kirkegata. Ali’s Kebab is one of those late-night spots you end up at when you can’t be bothered to cook. It’s got these harsh fluorescent lights that make everyone look like zombies, floors sticky from spilled soda, and a bathroom you wouldn’t touch without gloves. But hey, it’s cheap, and the food’s not bad if you’re drunk enough. That night, I wasn’t drunk, just bored out of my mind after a long shift. Ingrid showing up? Easily the most interesting thing to happen to me in weeks.

We start chatting about random crap, like how the kebabs here are way better than the stuff at Nille’s Grill across town, or how the buses on Elvegata are always friggin’ late, or if Hunderfossen amusement park is even worth the ticket. She’s got this laugh, sharp and kinda loud, that makes the dude behind the counter shoot us a dirty look like we’re being a nuisance. I don’t give a shit. Something about her keeps me talking, even though I’ve got nothing clever to say. I’m no smooth talker, never have been, but I figure, what the hell, might as well try. “So, you got a place to crash tonight, or you just wandering around?” I ask, trying to sound chill, not like some weirdo. Probably sounded like a weirdo anyway, but whatever.

She raises an eyebrow, takes a bite of her food before answering. “Got a room at the Scandic over on Turisthotellvegen. It’s alright, but boring as hell. Why, you got something better in mind?” I shrug, feeling my face heat up a little. “Nah, just curious. My place isn’t much, just a crappy apartment above the old bakery on Storgata. Smells like stale bread half the time. But it’s close, I guess.” She doesn’t say much at first, just looks at me with these eyes that feel like they’re sizing me up. I’m not used to women looking at me like that, so I just keep eating, acting like I don’t notice. But my head’s already running wild, probably places it shouldn’t.

I mean, I’m not kidding myself, I know I’m not some stud picking up girls every weekend. Last time I got lucky was months back, some messy hookup after a night at Sigrid’s Pub with a girl I can’t even name. But Ingrid? She’s got this vibe, like she doesn’t care what anyone thinks, and that’s kinda hot in a weird way. We finish eating, and I’m thinking that’s it. She’ll head back to her hotel, I’ll stumble home and crash watching some lame reruns on TV2. But then she leans back in her chair, crosses her arms, and goes, “So, Torvald, you always this exciting, or is tonight special or something?”

I snort, almost choking on the last bite of my kebab. “Oh yeah, super exciting. Stocking shelves and scarfing down greasy food. That’s my whole deal. What about you? What’s your thing when you’re not out job hunting?” She grins, but it’s not all cute or flirty. More like she’s messing with me. “I dunno. I get restless, y’know? Gotta find ways to kill time. Back in Trondheim, me and my ex got into some crazy stuff. And not just the two of us, if you catch my drift.” That throws me for a loop. I’m not an idiot, I think I get what she’s getting at, or at least, I hope I do. My brain’s straight in the gutter now, imagining all kinds of crap I probably shouldn’t. But I don’t wanna look like a dumbass, so I just play it cool, or at least try to.

“So, what’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, kinda pushing her a bit. She didn’t reply right off the bat, just stared at me, chewing on the inside of her cheek like she was figuring out how much to let slip. “Let’s just say I’m not the shy type, ya know? And I’m gettin’ the vibe you’re not either, even if you play it all quiet and cool.” I let out a laugh, mostly ‘cause I felt so damn awkward I didn’t know what else to do. “Me? Nah, I’m dull as dirt. But now you’ve got me curious. You gonna spill, or just keep teasin’ me with hints?” Ingrid tilted her head, and for a sec, I thought she’d dodge the whole thing. But then she leaned in, elbows plopped on the table, her voice dropping a notch. “How ‘bout this? Let’s grab a beer or whatever at Ølhallen. I’m not ready to call it quits for the night, and you look like you could use a little fun. Maybe then I’ll share a story or two.” Didn’t even have to think about it. Ølhallen’s this old-school brewery spot just a few blocks down Storgata, all wood walls and dim lights, stinking of hops and spilled beer. It’s where half of Lillehammer lands on a Friday night, but since it was a Tuesday, I figured it’d be pretty dead. I wasn’t sure if she was just bored outta her mind or actually into me, but honestly, I didn’t give a damn. Something about how she said “fun” stuck in my head, like there was some kinda unspoken promise there, even if I couldn’t quite figure it out. “Alright, yeah, let’s do it,” I said, getting up and chucking my trash in the bin by the door. “But I’m tellin’ ya now, I’m no good at stories. You’re gonna have to do most of the talkin’.” She smirked again, snagging her jacket. “Don’t sweat it, Torvald. I’ve got plenty to ramble about.”

We stepped outside into the cold night air, the streetlights humming above us as we started down Storgata toward Ølhallen. Lillehammer was quiet as hell, just the odd car cruising by or some drunk guy staggering out of a bar down the way. There was this weird sorta tension building up in me, like I could sense something was gonna go down, but I had no clue what. Ingrid walked real close, her shoulder brushing against mine once or twice, and I couldn’t tell if she meant to or if it was just the narrow-ass sidewalk. Either way, I wasn’t about to say a word against it. As we passed the old post office, all dark and shut up for the night, she gave me a little nudge. “So, you got anybody waitin’ for ya back home, or are ya just a lonely bastard like me?” I chuckled, shoving my hands deeper into my pockets. “Just me and a crappy couch, that’s it. What about you?” “Same here,” she said, but there was somethin’ in her voice I couldn’t quite pin down. “For now, at least.” I didn’t dig deeper. We kept on walking, the neon sign for Ølhallen popping into view up ahead, and I had this gut feeling that whatever was comin’ next, it sure as hell wasn’t gonna be just another lame night in Lillehammer.

We shoved through the heavy door of Ølhallen, and the smell of old beer and damp wood hit me like a wall. The place was half-empty, just a couple of old dudes nursing their pints at the bar and some younger guy in the corner glued to his phone. The bartender, this guy I’ve seen around named Bjørn, gave me a quick nod as I ordered two Hansa lagers. Ingrid didn’t argue, just slid onto a stool next to me at the beat-up bar counter, her knee brushing mine as she settled in. I don’t know if she did it on purpose, but it got my heart pumpin’ a little faster anyway. We clinked our glasses, didn’t say much at first. The beer was cold, bitter as hell, just what I needed after that greasy kebab earlier. Ingrid took a big gulp, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, not givin’ a damn about lookin’ all proper. “So,” she said, turnin’ to me with that half-smirk thing she does, “are ya really as borin’ as ya claim, or are ya just playin’ it safe with me?” I snorted, settin’ my glass down a bit too hard. “What ya see is what ya get. Work, drink, crash. That’s my life. Don’t got time for much else.” She tilted her head, eyes narrowin’ like she wasn’t buyin’ it for a second. “Nah, that’s bullshit. Everybody’s got somethin’ tucked away, some itch they can’t scratch workin’ at the damn Coop Extra.” That got a laugh outta me, even if it felt like she was callin’ me out. “Okay, fine, maybe I got an itch or two. But I ain’t spillin’ my guts to some random chick who’s probably just passin’ through town.”

Ingrid leaned in closer, elbow on the bar, her voice gettin’ low. “Who says I’m just passin’ through? Maybe I stick around if this job pans out. Maybe I find a reason to.” Her eyes locked on mine, and damn, I felt it right in my chest, this heavy sorta heat I hadn’t felt in ages. I suck at readin’ signals, but that wasn’t exactly subtle. My brain was already runnin’ wild, thinkin’ about stuff I probably shouldn’t, but hell, I couldn’t stop it. “Oh yeah?” I said, tryin’ to keep my voice from shakin’. “What kinda reason are ya lookin’ for?” She didn’t answer straight away, just took another swig of her beer, lettin’ the silence hang there. Then she set her glass down, turned her whole body toward me, and said, “Why don’t we figure that out? My hotel’s just a ten-minute walk. Scandic ain’t exactly the Ritz, but the bed’s plenty big.” I damn near choked on my drink. Straight to the point, no messin’ around. I’m not used to women bein’ that upfront, and for a split second, I didn’t even know what to say. But my body was already sayin’ yes, even if my head was still catchin’ up. “Screw it, why not,” I mumbled, downin’ the rest of my beer in one go. “Lemme settle up real quick.” Bjørn didn’t even blink when I paid the tab, probably seen plenty of guys like me stumble outta here with someone. Ingrid was already up, zippin’ her jacket, that smirk still plastered on her face like she knew exactly how this was gonna play out. We stepped back out into the cold, the night air bitin’ at my face as we headed down Turisthotellvegen toward the Scandic Lillehammer Hotel.

Man, the streets were dead quiet at this point, just our boots slapping against the pavement and every now and then a car cruising by. I had my hands shoved deep in my pockets, debating whether to open my mouth or just keep it zipped. Honestly, I didn’t know what to say. She didn’t seem to give a damn either way, strutting along with this easy confidence that made me feel like a total klutz just walking next to her.

When we got to the hotel lobby, it was a ghost town. Just some clerk at the desk, looking bored out of their mind, not even glancing up as we passed by. Ingrid took the lead, heading straight for the elevator. The second those doors slid shut, she turned to face me, stepping in close, close enough that I caught a whiff of tobacco on her breath, mixed with the stale hint of beer. “You good with this?” she asked, her voice low, kinda rough, while her hand was already on my arm, fingers pressing into my skin just a bit. My throat felt like sandpaper, but I managed a quick, “Yeah, I’m cool.” Didn’t wanna sound like a wimp, ya know?

Her room was up on the third floor, nothing special, beige walls, stiff-ass bedspread, a window with a view of Maihaugen’s dark outline way off in the distance. She kicked her boots off by the door, slung her jacket over a chair, and I followed suit, just kinda going through the motions. My heart was pounding like crazy, but I didn’t wanna come off as some shaky teenager, so I just stood there for a beat, hands dangling at my sides, waiting to see what she’d do next.

Ingrid didn’t mess around. She stepped right up, grabbed the front of my hoodie, and yanked me in. Her kiss hit hard, all rough and desperate, teeth grazing my lip a little. I’ll be real, it threw me off, I’m used to things starting slow, a bit awkward even, but I rolled with it, kissing her back, my hands finding her hips. She tasted like beer and salt, her tongue pushing in like she owned the place. I was already half-hard in my jeans, the pressure against the zipper damn near painful, and I knew she felt it when she pressed her hips into me. “Fuck,” I mumbled against her mouth, and she let out this deep, throaty laugh that hit me like a punch, sending a shiver straight down my spine.

Her hands slipped under my hoodie, fingers cold as hell against my stomach, and I flinched a bit before just ripping the thing off over my head. My t-shirt came off with it, leaving me shirtless in the chilly room, skin prickling from the cold. I ain’t exactly ripped, got that beer gut I’ve mentioned before, a few random hairs on my chest, but she didn’t seem to care one bit. Her eyes flicked over me, like she was checking out a slab of meat at the butcher, no judgment, just… interest. “Get these off,” she said, tugging at my jeans, and I wasn’t about to argue. I fumbled with the button, zipper catching for a second, felt like a total idiot, before shoving them down along with my boxers. My dick popped free, already hard, kinda bobbing as I kicked the clothes away. I ain’t packing anything crazy, just average, decent thickness, uncircumcised, with a little precum already at the tip. Standing there, butt-naked, I felt exposed as hell, but Ingrid just looked at me, no weird vibes, just this raw, hungry kinda stare.

Then she peeled off her own shirt, showing a plain black bra, her pale skin dotted with a few freckles along her collarbone. Her tits weren’t big, but they had a nice perk to ‘em, and I couldn’t stop staring as she unhooked the bra and let it fall. Small, dark nipples, already hard, maybe from the cold, maybe from the moment. She wiggled out of her jeans next, left in these mismatched gray cotton panties, nothing fancy, just practical. Didn’t matter to me one bit. My hands were itching to touch her, twitching at my sides like I didn’t know what to do with ‘em.

“C’mere,” she said, plopping down on the edge of the bed, legs parted just a little. I stepped closer, and without a second thought, she reached out, wrapping her hand around my cock. Her grip was tight, almost too much, and I grunted, hips jerking forward on their own. She smirked up at me, stroking slow, her thumb brushing over the tip, spreading the precum around. Felt so damn good, too good, and I had to clench my jaw to keep from letting out some stupid sound. “You got a condom?” I asked, voice all rough and scratchy, ‘cause I sure as hell didn’t bring one. Didn’t think my night was gonna turn out like this. “Nah,” she said, not even pausing her hand. “I’m on the pill. You clean?” “Yeah,” I shot back, maybe too fast, but I ain’t dumb, I get tested often enough. “You?” “Same.” She didn’t say more than that, just leaned in, and before I could even wrap my head around it, her mouth was on me. Hot, wet, her tongue flicking over the tip before she took me in deeper. I groaned, couldn’t hold it in, my hands going to her hair, fingers getting tangled in the messy strands. She sucked hard, no teasing, just straight to business, lips tight, the wet sound of it echoing in the room. My knees felt like they might give out, and I had to brace myself, watching her head move, feeling the slight scrape of her teeth just enough to keep me on edge.

I didn’t wanna finish like that, not yet, so after a minute, I pulled back, breathing all ragged. “Fuck, hold on,” I muttered, and she looked up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, grinning like she knew she had me all messed up. I pushed her back onto the bed, maybe a little harder than I meant to, and she just laughed, scooting up toward the headboard. I climbed on after her, hands grabbing at her panties, yanking ‘em down her legs. There she was, a neat little patch of dark hair above, lips already slick and shiny. The smell hit me, not bad, just real, kinda musky and warm, and it made my mouth water, even though I ain’t usually the type to dive in like that. I didn’t ask, just spread her thighs wider, settling between ‘em. My fingers slid over her, feeling how wet she was, and she hissed, hips twitching up toward me.

I slid two fingers in, taking it slow at first, feeling her tighten around me, all warm and snug. Her hand latched onto my wrist, not to stop me, nah, just holding on, her nails biting into my skin a bit. “Fuck, yeah,” she muttered, her voice kinda shaky, and I curled my fingers, trying to hit that spot I’ve heard about. I mean, I’m never totally sure I get it right, but her moan? Yeah, that told me I was damn close. I pulled my fingers out, all wet and sticky, and got myself ready, my dick pulsing, the tip just brushing against her. I didn’t go in right away, just rubbed against her, soaking in that heat, watching her face scrunch up like she was losing patience. “C’mon,” she growled, wrapping a leg around my waist, tugging me closer. I let out a grunt, propping myself on my elbows, and started pushing in, real slow, feeling her stretch around me, tight as hell. She gasped, her hands clamping onto my shoulders, and I paused for a sec, only halfway in, making sure she was good. Her eyes were half-shut, mouth hanging open, and she gave this tiny nod, like she couldn’t wait any longer. So I went deeper, all the way, and damn, it was raw, no rubber, just skin on skin, hot and wet. I pulled back a bit, then thrust in again, harder this time, getting into a rhythm while the bed creaked under us. Her nails dug into my back, sharp enough to sting, and I hissed, but hell, it just made me speed up, my hips smacking against hers, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Sweat was already dripping down my forehead, and I could feel her getting even wetter, that slickness making it easier to move, but I knew I wouldn’t last long like this. Not with how she was gripping me, not with those little noises, half moans, half grunts, right in my ear. I shifted a bit, trying to hold off, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, hard. Ingrid’s breath caught, her legs tightening around me, heels digging into my ass like she was egging me on. “Fuck, don’t stop,” she rasped, her voice rough and desperate now, and trust me, I wasn’t planning to. My hips kept snapping forward, over and over, the wet slap of us mixing with the creak of this cheap-ass hotel bed. I could feel every bit of her, tight and hot, squeezing me like a damn vice, and it took everything not to lose it right then.

I ain’t no porn star, though, you know? My arms were starting to shake from holding myself up, and my back was aching from the weird angle. Sweat dripped off my chin, landing on her chest, and I couldn’t help but notice her tits bouncing with each thrust, small, but firm, nipples hard as hell. Without even thinking, I ducked down, sucking one into my mouth, tasting the salt on her skin. She groaned, loud as fuck, her hand grabbing the back of my head, pushing me harder against her. My teeth kinda grazed her, not on purpose, just me being clumsy, and she hissed but didn’t pull away, instead, she arched up like she wanted more. “Flip over,” I mumbled, pulling out for a sec, my dick all slick and throbbing in the cool air. I was breathing heavy, chest heaving like I’d run a mile, and she didn’t argue, just rolled onto her stomach, ass up, knees spread on the bed. Man, the view, damn, it was something else. Her pussy was glistening, swollen from all the friction, that patch of dark hair all matted with wetness. I could smell it now, stronger, that raw, musky scent of sex mixed with a faint tang of sweat. Ain’t pretty or romantic or any of that crap, just real, messy as hell, and it made my dick twitch even harder. I grabbed her hips, fingers digging into the soft skin, and lined up again, pushing in with one hard thrust. She grunted, her face buried in the pillow, muffling the noise, but I felt her push back against me, matching every move. From this angle, it hit deeper, tighter somehow, and I groaned, low in my throat, as I started going at it again, fast and rough. The bedframe banged against the wall, probably loud enough for the neighbors to hear, but screw it, I didn’t care. My balls slapped against her with every thrust, heavy and tight, and I could feel that pressure building, that ache telling me I wasn’t gonna hold out much longer. “Fuck, I’m close,” I warned, my voice all rough and gravelly, slowing down a little to try and stretch it out. My hands slid up her back, slick with sweat, and I gripped her shoulders for leverage, pulling her back onto me. She turned her head to the side, cheek pressed against the mattress, eyes half-open, mouth slack. “Do it,” she panted, “just fuckin’ come.” Her voice was sharp, almost like an order, and damn, it flipped a switch in me. I didn’t hold back after that, just pounded into her, hard and fast, chasing it. It hit me like a damn truck, that tight knot in my gut snapping. I groaned, loud, probably too loud, as I came, spilling inside her, hot and messy, hips jerking with each wave. I could feel her clenching around me, dragging it out longer than I thought possible, and my vision got all spotty for a sec. I slumped forward, catching myself on my hands so I didn’t squash her. My dick twitched a few more times, still deep inside, before I finally pulled out, real slow, watching a trickle of cum leak out, mixing with her wetness, dripping onto the bedspread. Ain’t some sexy movie shot, just sticky and real, a mess we’d have to deal with later. I rolled off to the side, collapsing on my back, chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. My dick was still half-hard, slick with cum and her juices, cooling off against my thigh. Ingrid stayed put for a minute, ass still up, breathing hard, before she finally flopped onto her side, facing away from me.

I could see those red marks on her hips, right where I’d grabbed her too hard, and her hair was all over the place, sweaty and stuck to her neck. We didn’t say a word at first, just sprawled there, the room dead quiet except for our heavy breathing and this faint hum from the heater over by the window. Look, I’m not gonna act like it was some deep, life-changing thing or whatever. It was just sex, messy and raw, the kind you don’t sit there analyzing. My legs were shaky as hell, like jelly, and there was this weird, nagging ache in my lower back from going at it so hard. I stole a quick look at her, wondering if she’d break the silence, but nah, she just reached over to the nightstand for a tissue, wiping herself off without even glancing my way. Straight to the point, no drama. Gotta respect that. “You good?” I croaked out, my voice all rough, mostly ‘cause I felt like I had to say something. I wasn’t looking for a pat on the back or trying to turn this into a big deal. “Yeah,” she mumbled back, tossing the tissue aside and dragging the flimsy hotel blanket over her legs. “You?” “Fine.” I pushed myself up, wincing a little as my back gave a sharp twinge, and started hunting for my boxers on the floor. My clothes were everywhere, and I felt kinda stupid crawling around buck naked, but I wasn’t about to just lie there making small talk. Finally found my jeans, yanked ‘em on without bothering with the boxers, and kept looking for my shirt. The room reeked now, all sweat and sex, heavy in the air, but I couldn’t be bothered to crack a window or anything.

Ingrid just watched me get dressed, propped up on one elbow, not saying much of anything. Her face was still flushed, lips kinda puffy from before, but there was no warmth in her expression, no sappy lingering glances or any of that. Just this blank stare, like her mind was already somewhere else. “Guess I’ll see ya around if I get the job,” she said after a bit, her voice flat as she rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “Maybe,” I grunted, pulling my hoodie over my head. I didn’t really have much else to say. I wasn’t about to promise I’d call her or feed her some line of crap. This wasn’t that kind of thing, and we both got that. I shoved my boots on, didn’t even bother tying the laces, and grabbed my jacket off the chair. Checked my phone real quick, still in the pocket, 1:47 a.m. Shit, I’ve got a shift at Coop Extra in like six hours. Should’ve thought about that earlier, but whatever, too late now. “Later,” I said, heading for the door without waiting for her to say anything back. She just gave this half-hearted wave, already reaching for the TV remote on the nightstand like I wasn’t even in the room anymore.

I stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind me, and the fluorescent lights overhead were buzzing like crazy as I walked toward the elevator. My legs felt like lead, and there was this gross, sticky feeling in my jeans I’d have to deal with when I got home, but I wasn’t gonna sit there overthinking it. Outside, the Lillehammer night was dead as ever, the cold slapping me in the face as I trudged down Turisthotellvegen toward Storgata. A lone taxi rolled past, headlights slicing through the dark, but I didn’t bother flagging it down. My place isn’t that far, and honestly, I needed the walk to clear my head a bit, even if tomorrow’s just gonna be the same old crap, stocking shelves, dealing with annoying customers, acting like tonight never happened. Passed by Ali’s Kebab again, that neon sign still flickering even though they’ve been closed for hours, and for some dumb reason, I started wondering if they’d ever fix that wobbly table we sat at earlier.

Halfway home, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I figured maybe it was Ingrid, y’know, sending some random text or whatever, but nah, just a stupid reminder from my calendar app about a dentist appointment next week. I snorted, shoved it back in my pocket, and kept on walking. The only sound was my untied laces flapping against the pavement, keeping me company in the empty night.