A Scandinavian Scandal
by Balderbody
In the gray-blue dawn of Copenhagen, when the cafés were still shuttered and the cyclists had not yet begun their morning migrations, Ivar Sørensen moved like a shadow through the narrow streets of Nørrebro. He was twenty, though the city had aged him faster than he liked to admit. His coat was too thin for the Danish winter, his boots worn at the toes, but his stride carried a strange, stubborn pride.
He had once imagined himself a firebrand—a political radical with a voice loud enough to shake the parliament windows. He’d read manifestos in cramped student apartments, argued philosophy in smoky bars, and believed, with the unshakable certainty of youth, that he would change the world.
But idealism didn’t pay rent. And when the job market tightened, when his roommates moved on, when the last of his savings evaporated, Ivar found himself sleeping in abandoned stairwells and under the awnings of closed bakeries. The revolution, it turned out, had no budget for him.
Still, he refused to surrender the one thing he had left: his principles.
So he stole—but only from those he believed deserved it.
Tonight, his target was a businessman who loudly proclaimed his disdain for “the young radicals ruining Denmark.” Ivar had overheard him earlier in the day, berating a barista for wearing a political pin. The man’s wallet now bulged in the inner pocket of his expensive wool coat as he staggered home from a corporate dinner.
Ivar followed at a distance, silent as frost.
When the man paused to fumble with his keys, Ivar slipped forward, quick and practiced. A gentle bump, a murmured apology, and the wallet was gone. The man never noticed.
Ivar ducked into an alley, breath steaming in the cold air. He opened the wallet—not to admire the money, but to check for anything personal. He always returned IDs. He wasn’t a monster.
He pocketed the cash, slid the rest into a mailbox slot, and leaned back against the brick wall. For a moment, he let himself imagine he was doing something noble. A redistribution of wealth, however small. A protest in miniature.
But the truth pressed on him like the winter wind.
He was hungry. He was cold. And he was alone.
As he walked toward the bridge over the lakes, the city lights shimmered on the water, turning the surface into a trembling mosaic. Ivar paused there, gripping the railing, letting the ache in his chest settle.
He still believed in justice. He still believed in change. But he no longer knew if he believed in himself.
Yet tomorrow, he would wake up and try again. Not because he was proud of what he’d become, but because he refused to let the world turn him into something worse.
In a city that had forgotten him, Ivar held onto the only rebellion he had left: the choice to steal with a conscience.
Hansel and his brother Kristoff caught the young man red-handed. Hansel immediately held a gun on the surprised thief and, when his brother left the room to call the police or whatever, the bald Social Democrat ordered Ivar to strip down to just his briefs.
Confused, but not wanting to be shot, the young man complied. When the youth stepped out of his shoes and peeled off his socks, Hansel licked his lips. The young thief had HUGE feet. But he didn't have time to contemplate them for something truly unexpected happened. Without being told, the handsome eighteen-year-old lay back on the bed.
Surprised, Hansel stripped the youth of his briefs and raised his legs.
"Fuck me." Ivar said in a tone thick with desire. The blond libertarian had, at that very moment, come to the realization that this was what he'd been searching for all along. Stealing was always a thrill, but the blood in his body only truly got to racing after he'd been caught. "Please fuck me ..."
Hansel, freed his penis, stepped to the blond libertarian's upraised legs and shoved dick into the thief's virgin asshole! The young man, smiling and grimacing with both pleasure and pain, grunted and tightened up into a ball of muscle. Hansel's brother Kristoff still held the robber's arms to keep him stationary.
"Yes! Oh yes!" the bald Social Democrat yelled as he held onto the blond libertarian's body and pushed again. The homeowner felt the tight little hole spasm under his pressure, tighten again, and then suddenly give way as he pushed his dick inside the young Liberal Alliance member's extremely tight ass.
"Ummmm ... Ohhhh ...Arrrrrrghhhhh!" the young thief screamed through layers of ecstasy as he felt the dick pry open his ass and penetrate into his hungry interior; separating the walls of his hole and jarring against the sensitive sides which shimmered around Hansel's fat invading dick. As he did this, he leaned toward's the youth's big bare upraised feet--practically drooling as he smelled those fragrant, perfect-looking young toes near his face.
The bald Social Democrat pushed back and leveraged himself onto Ivar's slender body by extending his arms against the blond libertarian's pecs. He pinched the thief's man-tits as he continued to plow into the eighteen-year-old's tight hot asshole! What a sight he was! The thief lay there moaning with abject pleasure as he was fucked; every tight swimmer's muscle straining, as he [Hansel] slipped in and out of his hungry man-cunt! And he kept deeply sniffing Ivar's upraised bare feet all the while. The odor of the blond libertarian's sweaty feet had turned him on to the point where his dick had become as hard as steel! The fact that he had a deep desire to kiss the thieving boy's feet only made the situation hotter. He felt like he really needed to kiss those big feet, to get his mouth on them. Hot sweaty young libertarian feet!
Kristoff tied the passive boy's ankles and wrists together and tugged the bound limbs upwards to a ceiling fixture. This gave his brother better access to their thieving captor's ass without him having to keep holding the youth steady.
He smiled when he saw that Ivar's dick was throbbing with pleasure! It flopped against his stomach, jerking rhythmically every time Hansel plunged his tool home. The bald Social Democrat himself on top of the blond libertarian, taking his body into his arms, enjoying the feel of his smooth chest and stomach rubbing against his own fair, ultra-horny frame.
While his brother fucked the youth, Kristoff sucked the toes of Ivar's left bare foot. He was as attracted to the blond libertarian's big bare feet as Hansel had been. He massaged Ivar's other foot with his fingers, switching feet occasionally to ensure that both received equal stimulation from his thick lips and fat tongue. The eighteen-year-old's toes alternately curled and extended in the Social Democrat's mouth from the overwhelming excitement.
Kristoff's own dick was beginning to grow hard from the erotic pleasure he was receiving from orally tending to the blond libertarian's feet . . . as well as sharing in the sensual-yet-sadistic excitement of his brother. His oral stimulation of Ivar's sensitive toes brought him to the peak of sexual titillation as the first wave of orgasm ripped through his body. As he came in his pants he continued to suck and lick the thief's big feet passionately. Soon his breathing became deep and erratic as the convulsions of orgasm gripped him.
He released the blond libertarian's toes from his mouth, and placed his open mouth over the Liberal Alliance member's arch, sucking it hard, and hungrily stroking his tongue over it and the sole. He enjoyed the texture of the handsome young man's smooth sole against his intensely licking tongue. He licked and sucked Ivar's arch very sensuously until he experienced the last waves of climactic ecstasy.
Hansel, meanwhile, had stopped fucking Ivar and was now sucking upon the young thief's erection. He kept sucking him until Ivar Sorensen began to moan loudly and announce that he was about to shoot his load. And when he did shoot his load he did it in the hungry Social Democrat's mouth. The same mouth that sucked down every last drop before bathing the spent blond libertarian's big feet with loving kisses and then treating them to an hour of intense toe-sucking.
It was an incredible session. The Anderson brothers would have probably fucked Ivar all over again, but they had forgotten that the police had been called. The blond libertarian was taken away before they had a chance for a second go-round.