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 was halfway through this godawful kebab at this little dive on Storgata in Lillehammer, Norway, just minding my own business, when I catch her staring at me from across the counter. And I mean *staring*, not even trying to play it cool, just straight-up drilling holes into me like I owe her cash or something. I’m not exactly the type who turns heads, you know? Average build, scruffy beard, probably got some sauce smeared on my shirt. So I’m thinking, eh, she’s probably just bored out of her mind or maybe a little high. This place, Kebabhuset, it’s a total dump anyway. The fluorescent lights flicker like they’re about to die, the tables are sticky as hell, and it reeks of old fryer grease mixed with whatever cheap cologne the guy behind the counter decided to drown himself in. It’s the kind of spot you only end up at 11 p.m. on a Thursday ‘cause you’re too lazy to cook and too broke for anything decent.

Lillehammer, man, it’s not exactly a thrill-a-minute kinda town. Small place, freezing cold most of the year, and unless you’re into skiing or faking interest in culture at the Maihaugen museum, there’s jack all to do. I’ve been here my whole life, 34 years, and I still don’t know why I haven’t packed up and left. Probably ‘cause I’m too damn comfortable, or maybe just lazy. I do odd jobs, plow snow in the winter, fix fences when it’s warmer, and drink at the same three bars with the same five dudes. That’s my life. Anyway, back to this chick. She’s sitting there, picking at some pita wrap or whatever, chipped black nail polish on her fingers, wearing a hoodie that’s seen better days. Turns out her name’s Ingrid, found that out later. Real typical Norwegian name, nothing special. Blonde hair, kinda messy, thrown back in a ponytail, and a face that’s not, like, stunning or anything. Just… normal. Tired-looking, maybe. But her eyes, man, they’ve got this sharp edge, like she’s sizing me up for something.

I wipe my mouth with a napkin, probably didn’t help, I’m a total slob, and give her a little nod. Not a flirty one, just a “what the hell you looking at” kinda thing. She doesn’t even blink. Just keeps staring, then smirks a bit, like she’s in on some joke I’m not. I figure she’s just another weird local. Lillehammer’s got a bunch of those, people who’ve been stuck up in these mountains too long and start acting a little off. So I go back to my kebab, thinking that’s the end of it. But nope, she gets up, walks over, and plops down right across from me without even asking. Pretty ballsy, right? I look up, mid-bite, and mumble, “Uh, can I help you or something?”

“You look bored outta your skull,” she says, her voice low and kinda scratchy, like she’s smoked one too many. Her accent’s pure Oppland, same as mine, so I know she’s not some tourist chasing the old Olympics hype. “I’m bored too. Wanna do something stupid?” I just blink at her. Didn’t see that coming. Most folks around here don’t just walk up to strangers and start chatting, let alone suggest… well, whatever the hell she’s suggesting. I swallow my bite, probably too fast, and cough a little. Real smooth, Erik. Yeah, that’s me, by the way. Erik Hansen. Boring name for a boring dude. “Stupid like what?” I ask, trying to sound chill but probably coming off like an idiot.

She shrugs, leaning back in the cheap plastic chair. “Dunno. Something to shake us up a bit. I’m so sick of this town. Sick of just sitting around waiting for life to actually start.” She’s tapping her fingers on the table, all restless, like she can’t sit still for two seconds. I notice her hands, rough, a little calloused. Probably works with ‘em. Maybe a carpenter or something. Doesn’t seem like the office type, that’s for sure. I let out an awkward laugh. “Yeah, well, Lillehammer ain’t exactly Vegas. Not much stupid to do around here unless you wanna steal a snowmobile or, I dunno, jump in the lake naked.” I’m half-joking, but her eyes light up. Not in a cute, flirty way, more like a “oh, I dare you to back that up” kinda way.

“Naked, huh?” she says, tilting her head a little. “You offering?” My face gets hot real quick. I’m not some prude or anything, but I wasn’t expecting her to just… go there like that. I’m used to the slow, polite nonsense people pull around here, small talk about the weather, maybe griping about gas prices. Not this. “I, uh, I was kidding,” I stammer, scratching the back of my neck. “I mean, it’s freezing out. You’d lose a damn toe or worse.” She doesn’t laugh. Just keeps looking at me with that smirk, like she’s testing me or something. “Cold don’t bother me,” she says. “I work outside half the year. Forestry stuff. You?”

“Odd jobs,” I say with a shrug. “Plowing snow, fixing crap. Nothing exciting.” I don’t even know why I’m telling her this. I don’t even know her name yet. But something about her just keeps me talking, like if I stop, she’ll get up and leave, and I’ll be stuck here with my crappy kebab all alone. “Figures,” she says, not in a mean way, just straight-up. “You’ve got that look. Hard worker, no real ambition. Same as half the guys around here.” She leans forward a bit, elbows on the table. “But I bet there’s something in you. Something you haven’t let out in a long-ass time.”

I don’t know what the hell she means by that, but it kinda twists my stomach. Not in a bad way, just… weird. Like she’s seeing right through all the boring, predictable crap I’ve built my life around. I take a sip of my Coke, mostly to stall for a second, and try to switch gears. “So, uh, you come here a lot? To Kebabhuset, I mean. Haven’t seen you before.” “Sometimes,” she says. “Usually late, when I can’t sleep. You?” “Way too often,” I admit. “It’s cheap. And close to my place. I’m just off Jernbanegata, near the old train station.” “No shit,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “I’m on Kirkegata. We’re basically neighbors.” She pauses, then adds, “Small fuckin’ town, huh?” “Yeah,” I say, not really sure where this is headed. I mean, I’m not clueless. I can feel something building, some kinda weird tension, but I’m not gonna be the dumbass who assumes too much.

Man, I’ve been down this road before, y’know? Thought some girl was into me, went for it, and got laughed at right to my face. Definitely not my proudest moment. So there I was, just sitting there, poking at the last bits of my food, waiting for her to say something more. She didn’t, not for a while. Just stared at me, like she was sizing me up or figuring something out. Then, out of nowhere, she got up, snatched her jacket off the chair, and said, “C’mon, let’s get the hell outta here. I’ve got an idea.” I probably should’ve said no. I mean, I didn’t even know this chick. Could’ve been a total nutcase for all I knew. But, damn, I was bored, just like she pointed out. And curious. And, if I’m being real with myself, kinda into how straight-up she was. Not because she was drop-dead gorgeous or anything, but because she didn’t mess around. No games, no pretending. So I chucked my trash in the bin, wiped my greasy hands on my jeans, and followed her out into the freezing cold.

Stepping outside felt like a punch to the face. November in Lillehammer doesn’t play nice, already below freezing, with that wet, biting wind rolling off Lake Mjøsa. The street was dead quiet, just a couple of cars creeping down Storgata, their headlights slicing through the dark. The neon sign for Kebabhuset was buzzing behind us, and I could see our breath puffing out in little white clouds. She zipped up her hoodie, shoved her hands deep in her pockets, and started heading toward the bridge over the Mesna river. Didn’t even glance back to see if I was coming. But I was. Couldn’t stop myself. “Hey, where we goin’?” I called out, jogging a couple steps to catch up. My boots crunched on the thin layer of snow that’d fallen earlier. “You’ll see,” she tossed back, not even looking at me. “Got a spot in mind. It’s not far.” I didn’t push her on it. Didn’t know if I should. Part of me figured she was just dragging me to some bar, maybe Nikkers, that old pub by the river, or we’d just wander ‘til we got bored. But another part of me, the dumb part I usually ignore, was wondering if this was gonna turn into… something else. Something I haven’t messed with in a long-ass time. I shook that thought off quick, though. Didn’t wanna get my hopes up or anything stupid like that.

We crossed the bridge, the water below looking black and still, like ink. Headed toward the quieter side of town, past all the shuttered shops and the empty parking lot by the old E6. She didn’t talk much, and neither did I. Just kept walking, the cold nipping at my ears, streetlights throwing long shadows across the pavement. I kept sneaking looks at her, trying to figure out what her deal was, but she didn’t give me anything to work with. Just kept moving, like she had a plan, like she knew exactly where this was going. Then she stopped, right at the edge of this little alley off Elvegata, near the back of some beat-up old storage building I’d never really noticed before. She turned to me, that little smirk creeping back onto her face, and said, “You in or out, Erik?” I didn’t even know what the hell I was signing up for. But I nodded anyway.

So there I was, standing in the dim light of that alley off Elvegata, the cold seeping right through my jacket, wondering what I’d just agreed to. Ingrid didn’t bother explaining, just stepped closer, her boots scraping on the gritty, half-frozen ground. The alley stank of damp concrete and old garbage, with a faint whiff of motor oil drifting over from some nearby garage. Not exactly a romantic spot, but the way she looked at me, straight on, no nonsense, got my heart pumping a little faster. I wasn’t nervous, not really. More like… restless. Like I could feel something was about to happen, even if I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. “You ain’t gonna back out now, are ya?” she said, her voice low, almost like she was daring me. She was close enough that I could see the faint freckles on her nose, her breath steaming in the icy air. Her hoodie was unzipped just a bit at the top, showing a plain gray tee underneath, pulled tight across her chest. I ain’t proud to say I noticed, but yeah, I did. “Nah,” I said, trying to play it cool, even though my throat felt kinda tight. “I’m here, ain’t I? Just tell me what you’re thinkin’.”

She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she grabbed the front of my jacket, real rough, and yanked me toward her. I stumbled a little, caught off guard, my boots slipping on a slick patch of ice. Before I could get a word out, her mouth was on mine, hard and sloppy. No buildup, no teasing, just straight to it. Her lips were cold from the air, but her tongue was hot, pushing into my mouth like she owned it. I could taste salt and something a little sour, probably from the pita she’d been eating, and I’m sure my kebab breath wasn’t any better. Didn’t seem to bug her, though. She kissed like she was starving for it, her hands gripping my jacket so tight I thought the zipper might pop. I caught up quick, kissing her back, my hands sliding to her waist under the bulk of her hoodie. Her body wasn’t soft or delicate, felt solid, strong, probably from that forestry work she’d mentioned earlier. My fingers dug in a bit, not gentle, just pure instinct, and she let out this low sound in her throat, half growl, half moan, that hit me right in the gut. I ain’t been with anyone in months, maybe more, and that noise woke up every damn thing I’d been trying to ignore.

We stumbled backward, still all tangled up, ‘til my back slammed into the rough brick wall of the storage building. The cold seeped through my jacket, but I barely felt it. Her hands were already moving, slipping under my layers, fumbling with the edge of my shirt. Her fingers were ice-cold, rough against my skin, and I flinched a little when they brushed my stomach. She pulled back just enough to smirk at me, her eyes glinting in the faint glow from a streetlamp down the alley.

“What, too cold for ya?” she mumbled, her voice all thick and raspy. “Fuck off,” I snapped back, kinda laughing, and I gripped her hips tighter, yanking her closer to me. Even through all the damn layers of clothes, I could feel how warm she was, and, shit, I was already halfway hard just from making out and the way she kept grinding against me. I’m not gonna pretend it ain’t a little embarrassing, getting worked up so fast like that, but hell, I wasn’t about to stop and dwell on it. She wasn’t slowing down either. Her hands were already at my belt, fumbling with the buckle, no grace or nothing, just straight-up impatient. I heard that little clink of metal, way too loud in this quiet-ass alley, and for a split second, I thought, man, this is dumb as hell. Messing around out here in the open? Some drunk idiot coming back from Nikkers could stumble on us, or maybe some poor bastard on night shift cutting through to the E6. But that thought just… slipped away. I was too caught up in how her fingers were moving, and damn, the way she bit down on my lower lip, hard enough to sting.

I pushed her hoodie up, not even caring that it’d probably just fall right back down in this freezing cold. Under it, her tee was all bunched up, and I caught a quick look at pale skin and a plain black bra, nothing special or fancy. Didn’t stop to stare, though. My hands went straight for her chest, squeezing through the fabric, feeling the weight of her tits. They weren’t massive or anything, just a solid handful, and she leaned into it, her breath catching a little. “Harder,” she growled under her breath, and I didn’t argue. I squeezed ‘til I knew it had to hurt at least a bit, and she just let out this low, rough groan, her head tipping back against the wall. Her hands finally got my belt loose, and she didn’t mess around, shoving my jeans down just far enough to get to me. The cold air hit like a slap, and I hissed through my teeth, but then her hand was on me, wrapping around my dick, and fuck, it felt good. Her grip was tight, kinda rough with those calloused fingers, no soft bullshit about it. I was rock hard now, no question, and I could feel the precum already leaking, making her palm slick as she stroked me. She didn’t say a word, just stared at my face with that sharp, piercing look, like she was watching every little reaction. I probably looked like a damn fool, mouth hanging open, breathing all heavy, but I didn’t give a shit.

Then it was my turn. I fumbled with her jeans, hands shaky from the cold and the adrenaline pumping through me. The button was stiff as hell, and the zipper got stuck for a second, but I got it down, pushing the denim past her hips. She had on plain cotton underwear, dark blue, nothing sexy, just regular. I didn’t care one bit. I slid my hand down, cupping her through the fabric, feeling the heat there, the slight dampness already seeping through. She sucked in a sharp breath, her hips jerking a little, and I rubbed harder, pressing my fingers against her clit through the cotton. I ain’t no expert or nothing, but I know a thing or two, and the way she grabbed my shoulder, nails digging in, told me I wasn’t screwing it up too bad. “Get ‘em off,” she muttered, her voice all rough and needy, and I didn’t need her to say it twice. I yanked her underwear down with her jeans, just enough to get to her, and the cold must’ve hit her too ‘cause she shivered hard. I could see her now, bare between her thighs, pale skin and a neat little patch of blonde hair, but I didn’t stop to gawk. My fingers slid between her folds, slick and hot even in this freezing-ass night, and damn, she was already so wet. I pushed two fingers in, not gentle or nothing, just testing the waters, and she groaned loud, her head smacking back against the brick. Her pussy clenched around me, tight and warm, and I curled my fingers a bit, feeling around, trying to figure out what got her going. “Fuck, yeah,” she breathed out, her hand still on my dick, stroking faster now, her thumb brushing over the tip in a way that damn near made my knees give out. I was leaking more, I could feel it, and her hand was getting messy, those slick sounds mixing with our heavy breathing. I could smell her too, that sharp, musky scent cutting through the cold air and the alley’s usual stink. It wasn’t pretty or flowery, just real, raw as hell, and it made my head spin.

I pulled my fingers out, all slick with her, and wiped them on my jeans without even thinking, stupid move, probably, but my brain wasn’t exactly working right then. I grabbed her thigh, hitching her leg up around my hip, trying to get us in position. It was awkward as fuck, her jeans still half-on, mine barely down, the rough wall scraping my elbow as I braced myself. She didn’t seem to care, just moved with me, her hand guiding my cock now, rubbing the head against her entrance. No condom, no talk about it, just the heat of her against me, wet and ready, and yeah, I knew I should’ve said something, should’ve stopped, but I didn’t. And neither did she. I pushed in, slow at first, just the tip, feeling her stretch around me. She was tight, almost too tight, and I grunted, my forehead dropping to her shoulder. Her breath was all ragged, hot against my ear, and she muttered, “Don’t fuckin’ stop,” so I didn’t. I thrust harder, sinking deeper, the heat of her pussy gripping me like a damn vice. It wasn’t smooth or perfect, her jeans kept getting in the way, and my belt buckle was digging into my thigh, but it felt fucking incredible, raw and desperate. I could feel every inch, every little twitch of her around me, and I was already fighting not to lose it too fast. She moaned, low and rough, her nails raking down my back through my jacket as I started moving, short, hard thrusts ‘cause that’s all the angle would let me do.

The alley was loud with all kinds of noises, wet, messy sounds, the sharp slap of skin on skin, our breathing so damn heavy it felt like it bounced off the walls. I didn’t give a crap who might hear us. Didn’t give a crap about anything except how she felt right then, how her leg hooked around me, pulling me in deeper like she couldn’t get enough. I kept going, my hips crashing into hers, no rhythm or finesse, just this raw, desperate need. The brick wall behind her kept scraping my knuckles every time I braced myself, and the cold air was biting at my bare ass, but I barely noticed. All I could think about was the heat of her, so tight and slick around me, gripping so hard it almost hurt. Every time I pushed in, it felt like I was forcing my way through, and every time I pulled back, she clenched like she didn’t wanna let go. Her leg around my hip was trembling now, muscles all tense, and I could feel the rough denim of her half-down jeans rubbing against my skin. It wasn’t comfy, not even close, but that gritty, messy edge? Man, it just made it hotter somehow.

“Fuck, harder,” Ingrid growled, her voice all rough and cracked, head tilted back against the wall. Her ponytail was falling apart, blonde strands sticking to her sweaty neck even though it was freezing out here. I don’t know how the hell she was sweating in this cold, but there it was, a faint shine on her skin under the weak glow of the streetlight. I didn’t argue, just gave her everything I had, slamming into her, my boots slipping a bit on the icy ground. My thighs were burning from the weird angle, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Her moans were getting louder, more jagged, and I could tell she was close, the way she started fluttering around me in these little spasms that made my dick throb even harder. Her hands were all over the place, grabbing my shoulders, digging into my neck, one sliding down to grip my ass through my jeans, pushing me to keep going. “Don’t fuckin’ slow down,” she snapped, and I just grunted, my breath coming out in harsh, ragged pants. I was close too, way too damn close, that tight, hot ache building in my balls, letting me know I wasn’t gonna last much longer.

I didn’t wanna be that guy, the one who finishes first, so I shifted a bit, trying to get a hand between us. My fingers found her clit, all swollen and slick, and I rubbed it hard, no grace, just fast, rough circles with my thumb. She jolted like I’d shocked her, a sharp gasp cutting through the air, and her nails dug into my skin so deep I knew I’d have marks later. “Shit, yeah, right there,” she hissed, her hips jerking against mine, matching every thrust. Then her pussy clamped down hard, and I knew that was it. She came with this low, guttural moan, her whole body shaking, her leg around me tightening so much I thought she might snap me in half. I could feel her pulsing around me, wetter now, hotter, and it was too much. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I thrust a few more times, sloppy and frantic, before I was done too, coming inside her with a grunt that sounded more like I was choking. No condom, no pulling out, just dumb, raw instinct. I felt every bit of it, the way she milked me through it, and for a few seconds, my head was just… blank. Nothing but the rush, the heat, the way her body pressed into mine.

But that high didn’t last. Reality hit me like a damn truck. My legs were shaky, my dick still twitching as I softened inside her, and the cold air slammed into me now that the adrenaline was gone. I could feel the mess between us, my cum leaking out, mixing with her wetness, sticky on my skin and probably hers too. It wasn’t hot or sexy anymore, just kinda gross and wet. I pulled out slow, wincing at how sensitive I felt, and let her leg drop back to the ground. She stumbled a little, catching herself against the wall, her jeans still bunched around her thighs. I yanked my own pants up, fumbling with the belt, my fingers numb from the cold and just… everything. The metal buckle clinked loud in the quiet alley, and I could hear us both still breathing hard, our breath steaming in the freezing air.

She didn’t say a word at first, just tugged her underwear and jeans back up, wincing a bit as the fabric dragged over her skin. I caught a quick glimpse of the mess on her inner thighs before she covered up, glistening, sticky, a mix of us both. It wasn’t pretty or anything, just real, and I felt this weird twinge of guilt for not pulling out. But I shoved it down quick. She didn’t look mad or anything, just… done, I guess. Her face was all flushed, hair a complete disaster now, and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing some dirt or whatever from the wall across her cheek. Didn’t seem to care one bit. “Well, that was somethin’,” she muttered after a bit, voice all scratchy, not even looking at me as she zipped up her hoodie. No mushy stuff, no lingering looks, just a flat-out statement. I nodded, not sure what the hell to say. My throat felt raw, and my back was aching from where I’d been pressed against the brick. I could still smell her on me, that sharp, musky scent sticking to my skin, mixing with the damp concrete and the faint stink of trash in the alley. My hands were sticky too, and I wiped them on my jeans, probably just making it worse.

“Yeah,” I mumbled, sounding dumber than I meant to. I shifted on my feet, the cold creeping back into my bones now that the heat of the moment was gone. Part of me wanted to ask if she was okay, or if we should, I dunno, talk about the no-condom thing, but the words just wouldn’t come out. Didn’t feel like something she’d wanna hear anyway. She’s not the type for hand-holding or deep talks, and I sure as hell ain’t either. She pushed off the wall, brushing her hands together like she was wiping off the whole damn thing, like it was just another day.

“Guess I’ll see ya around, Erik,” she said, that little smirk creeping back onto her face, though, honestly, her eyes didn’t match it this time. She didn’t even wait for me to say anything back, just spun on her heel and started walking outta the alley, her boots crunching through the thin layer of snow. I stood there, watching her go, her shape getting smaller as she hit Elvegata and headed toward the streetlights glowing near the E6. Not once did she look back. I just lingered there for a bit, feeling like a complete dumbass, my dick still half-hard in my jeans and the cold prickling at my skin. The alley was creepy quiet now, just the faint sound of a car somewhere far off and the annoying buzz of a flickering light down the street.

I shoved my hands into my pockets, only to realize I’d lost a damn glove somewhere in the mess, probably under a dumpster or some crap like that. Didn’t even wanna bother looking for it. My breath came out in a foggy puff, and I kicked at a random pebble, watching it skip across the ground. Didn’t feel like heading home yet, even though my place on Jernbanegata was just a quick ten-minute walk. Truth is, I didn’t feel like doing much of anything. So, I just started walking the other way, toward the river, thinking I’d loop around by the Mesna bridge and waste some time. Maybe grab a late-night coffee at the 7-Eleven on Storgata if it’s still open.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, probably one of the guys texting about meeting up at Nikkers tomorrow, but I ignored it. Didn’t have the energy to deal with anyone right now, ya know? As I crossed the bridge, the water below looked almost still, just black and lifeless. I noticed a couple of kids on the other side, messing around, chucking snowballs or doing some dumb kid stuff. One of ‘em shouted something, but I couldn’t hear it clear, and I didn’t care enough to try. Just kept walking, head down, the wind biting at my face.

My mind wasn’t on Ingrid anymore, or the sex, or the whole messy situation. It wasn’t on anything, really. Just the sound of my boots crunching and the cold stinging my ears. Then, outta nowhere, I stepped on a slick patch of black ice. My foot shot out from under me, and I barely caught myself on the railing, muttering a string of curses under my breath. What a freakin’ night, huh? Banged a stranger in an alley and nearly busted my ass on the way home. I let out a short, bitter laugh and kept going, figuring I’d probably find that stupid glove come spring thaw, if some damn rat doesn’t chew it to bits first.