Far From the Fjords
Copyright© 2025 by brabo1978
Chapter 13
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 13 - An exchange student from Norway spends a year in Baltimore. Her host family lives in a mostly black neighborhood. This story will take more time to get to the sexy parts than my usual writings. Codes will be added as the story progresses.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft Teenagers Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Interracial Black Male White Female Masturbation Oral Sex Petting AI Generated
Two days later, Freja watched the city outside the car windows change. It happened remarkably fast. One minute, most of the houses were worn-down, scarred by graffiti and the odd half-boarded window; the next, trees began to line the streets, and the sidewalks widened. The car slowed as they turned onto a quiet street in Reservoir Hill. Here, the houses stood taller, older, their facades painted in careful shades of blue, green, or cream. Iron fences framed tiny gardens, and porch steps gleamed with fresh paint. The autumn air looked clean here, gentler somehow.
The coordinator smiled from the driver’s seat. “This is it — the Carters’ place,” she said, turning into a space along the curb. Freja followed her gaze. The house was a narrow Victorian, painted pale blue with white trim, the paint just starting to peel at the corners but still elegant. A wind chime tinkled faintly from the porch. In the small yard, a pair of flowerpots stood like sentries beside the steps.
The two of them walked up the steps, and the coordinator pressed the doorbell. Footsteps approached, and the door opened to reveal a black woman in her forties, wearing a soft gray sweater and jeans. Her smile was immediate and warm.
“You must be Freja. Welcome, sweetheart.”
Freja hesitated, then smiled faintly. “Yes. Thank you.”
“I’m Denise Carter,” the woman said, stepping aside to let them in. “Come on, take your shoes off if you like — we try to keep the floors clean.”
Freja stepped inside, setting her small suitcase down by the door. The hallway opened into a bright living room filled with soft colors — books on the shelves, a few framed prints on the walls, a potted fern by the window.
A tall Black man appeared from the adjoining kitchen, drying his hands on a dish towel. His frame filled the doorway, but his expression was gentle, curious rather than imposing.
“Hi there,” he said, his voice smooth and steady. “You must be Freja.”
“Yes,” she replied quickly, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’m Leon,” he said, offering his hand. His palm was warm and firm, the kind of handshake that made her feel instantly anchored. “We’re glad to have you here.”
“Thank you,” Freja said with a small smile.
“Hey, ma, is that her?” a voice came from upstairs. Seconds later, two teenage boys came thundering down the steps. The first was tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a dark red hoodie and a pair of wireless earbuds around his neck. The younger one trailed behind, leaner, with a sharp, curious energy in his movements.
“This is André,” Denise said, nodding toward the older one, “and that’s Micah.”
“Hey,” André said with a quick grin. “Welcome. You must be Freja.”
“Hi,” she replied softly, clutching the strap of her bag.
Micah tilted his head. “You’re from Norway? Where is that?”
Freja smiled faintly, caught off guard by the question. “It’s in northern Europe.”
Micah’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh, like near Russia?”
She nodded. “Yes, actually — we share a border in the far north. But most people live farther south, near the coast.”
André leaned against the banister, grinning. “Bet you don’t miss all that snow now, huh?”
Freja shrugged, still smiling. “Maybe a little. I like the quiet it brings.”
“Wait till January,” Leon said, shaking his head. “Baltimore gets cold too — not the pretty kind, though. It’s the wet, bone-deep kind.”
Denise gestured upstairs. “Come on, sweetheart, I’ll show you your room before the boys start arguing about who gets the worst winters.”
As Freja followed her up the narrow staircase, she glanced out the landing window — rows of tall, narrow houses, a stretch of green trees marking the edge of Reservoir Hill Park in the distance. The neighborhood was quieter than Sandtown, more lived-in than worn down.
Denise opened a door at the end of the hall. “Here we are. It’s not big, but it’s comfortable.”
The room was cozy and softly lit by the afternoon light coming through lace curtains. A small dresser stood by the window, and a quilted blanket was neatly folded at the foot of the bed.
“I put some fresh sheets on,” Denise said. “If you need an extra blanket, you just let me know. We’ve got plenty.”
Freja nodded. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”
Denise smiled. “I’ll let you unpack. We’ll have dinner in about 30 minutes.”
When she woke up, Freja felt full of energy. Even through the closed curtains she could tell the day outside was bright. Her thoughts drifted to the evening before. The Carters’ welcome had been warm and easy, in a way that felt both familiar and new. Several weeks earlier the Hayes, or at least Deb, had been just as warm as the Carters were now. And yet, something was definitely different, something that she couldn’t put her finger on.
Remembering that she was supposed to meet her friends later that day, she got out of bed and, carrying her clothes for the day, walked over to the bathroom on her floor. She didn’t hear any sounds inside, but knocked on the door, just to be sure. She knew she was sharing the bathroom with André and Micah, and didn’t want to walk in on one of them by accident.
Not that Freja would mind seeing more of them. They were very different, but both attractive in their own way. Part of it was the age difference, part of it their different interests. The outgoing and sociable Micah seemed to have a one-track mind, fully occupied with basketball. André seemed more reserved and cerebral, with an aptitude for music and stayed fit thanks to regular visits to the gym.
Closing the door behind her, Freja turned on the faucet and waited for the water to warm. She slipped out of her pajamas, the cool air brushing her skin, and stepped under the stream. The heat spread over her shoulders and down her back, loosening the stiffness in her muscles. Steam curled around her, dense and soft, and with each passing second the last traces of sleep seemed to melt away. She was halfway through shampooing her hair when the bathroom door opened.
“Hey Micah, you’re up early,” André said as he shuffled in, rubbing his eyes. For a moment, both froze. Freja with her hands in her hair, slick with suds. André, staring at a naked girl, who most definitely was not his brother. It only lasted a second. Then Freja tried to cover herself as well as she could with only her hands. André turned to look away, apologizing.
“Shit! Freja! I’m sorry, I forgot. I didn’t ... I’m sorry.”
Then he was out the door again.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t t ... Fuck!” he called back, his voice muffled through the door.
Freja still hadn’t moved, her hands still covering her body even now she was alone again. She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. An almost complete stranger had seen her naked. If it had been Jason, even before what had happened at McDonalds, she would have been embarrassed, felt violated even. But André felt different. And his reaction was so genuine, so apologetic, that she couldn’t hold a grudge. She even caught herself wondering if he had liked what he saw. The thought that he might have an erection right now because of her was strangely exciting.
Stop it! What’s wrong with you? she chided herself, stepping out of the shower. She really liked Darius and sex with him was amazing. So why did she keep lusting after other guys? Why couldn’t she stop thinking about dick? She had never been repressed about sex, but the way her mind was racing with all these desires was definitely new.
The park was half empty that afternoon — just a few kids on bikes and an old man walking his dog along the cracked path. The air smelled faintly of fallen leaves and the grill smoke drifting from somewhere nearby.
Malik tossed a small rock toward the duck pond, watching it skip twice before sinking. “So,” he said, “we got that three-day weekend next week. What’s the move? Please tell me it’s not just homework.”
“You never do homework,” Tasha said, pulling her braids over one shoulder.
“Exactly,” Malik said. “That’s why I need plans.”
Freja smiled faintly, her hands tucked in the pockets of her hoodie. The wind was cool but gentle — the kind that made the city feel softer for once.
“What about you, Freja?” Tasha asked. “You doing anything?”
Freja shook her head. “No. I was thinking maybe I’d like to get out of Baltimore for a bit. Somewhere quiet. I’m ... not used to so much noise all the time.”
Darius, who’d been leaning back with his arms stretched along the back of the bench, looked over at her. “Yeah? Like what kind of quiet — ocean quiet or forest quiet?”
“I don’t know,” Freja said. “Just somewhere you can hear yourself think.”
“Can’t hear yourself think with Malik around,” Tasha muttered.
“Rude,” Malik said, grinning. “But facts.”
Freja laughed softly. “Back home, we often used to drive into the mountains. Just walk for hours. I miss that kind of space.”
Tasha’s eyes lit up. “Harper’s Ferry! That’s what we should do. Our family went last year. It’s got hiking trails, rivers, old streets with cafés and stuff. Could be just what you want.”
Freja turned toward her, curious. “That sounds ... really nice, actually.”
Malik frowned thoughtfully. “Y’all forgetting the part where hotels cost actual money.”
“There are motels,” Darius said. “And hostels. If we all share one room, it’s cheap. I can check tonight.”
“Split four ways, it’s nothing,” Tasha added. “Twenty bucks each, tops. We can bring our own food to save more.”
Malik nodded slowly, pretending to calculate. “Hmm. That’s, like ... one shift at the diner. I guess I can afford peace and nature for a day.”