When I settled in St. Kilda, Melbourne’s beach-side, playground-suburb in the late 1950ies, a number of Continental Clubs already existed. They gave St. Kilda’s night-live a touch of central European ambience that was missing in the still British-colonial non-night-life of the rest of Melbourne. The clubs’ founders had migrated to Australia in the post-war years. Once the earlier intake of some 120,000 Displaced Persons between 1947 and 1950 was completed, the Australian Government decided to extend its intake of needed labour by signing migration-agreements with Germany, the Netherlands, and Austria.
Among the Austrians and Germans, it attracted many young men and some single women, then in their mid-twenties, that had after the turmoil of war and defeat not found their place in the harsh post-war world of their countries. Quite a few of them were ethnic-Germans that hat fled from the eastern parts of Europe in 1945.For many of them the West had offered no easy refuge and acceptance. They were willing to try a new life overseas. The opportunity to come to Australia at a cost of only ten Pounds, made it a more attractive destination than Canada.
Both August and I were such Ten Pound migrants. We had met as tenants in one of St.Kilda’s rooming-houses. August was a nuggetty, no-nonsense Berliner; hard-working, and holding down a well-paid, responsible job at Dunlop Tyres. Conscripted in 1944 at seventeen into Hitler’s army, he had survived the final six months of retreat on the Russian front to return to a city in ruins and no home or family. His parents had been killed in an air-raid.
August arrived in Australia in 1951, found work, settled down and, with some friends, got involved in starting the German Club in Barkly Street. Although I was so much younger in years and experience, August liked my company. We often went together to ‘his’ club.
On this Saturday night the club was already full, but August managed to get for us a little table some distance from the dance floor. Then he wandered off to talk to some friends. He surprised me when he came back in the company of two women. He quickly organised two chairs, and once the four of us were in close togetherness we got to know each other. August already knew one of the women, a German nurse, from earlier years.
She and her work colleague had come to town for a day of shopping and going to the pictures. In the evening they had decided to drop in at the German Club for a brief visit. They had to catch public transport to get back to the 20 miles out-of-town Mental Hospital where they worked and were in residence as nurses.
Both women were quite attractive. They were confidently at ease in their bodies but with no girlish softness left in their faces. In age they were closer to August’s thirty-plus than to my twenty-two. On my own, I would have been too intimidated to approach them.
They were, however, lively company and talked freely about their lives and experiences. One, August’s acquaintance, was originally from Danzig. Fleeing from the Russians she had found no real home in post-war West Germany and had come to Australia in 1951. The other woman came from Stuttgart and had arrived two years later.
Both worked as nurses in Sunbury’s Mental Asylum. At the time, the Department of Immigration directed many non-British migrant-women to staff Australia’s mental institutions and TB-sanatoriums. They made-up for the dearth of Australian nurses. These were deemed too precious and valued to work in the often unsavoury and dangerous conditions found in such institutions.
We shared quite a few drinks of brandy, hid in coffee-cups. Although unlicensed, in the German Club alcohol was more freely available than in the Austrian Club. There the police appeared often, going from table to table, lifting and sniffing coffee-cups in search of forbidden whiffs. The Germans had obviously reached some agreement with the constabulary, and their whiff-sniffers raided only rarely and never unannounced.
Anyway, to return to us, we had a good time. When the women made a move to leave, August easily persuaded them to stay. He would drive them home, he promised, all the long way to Sunbury. They readily agreed, we drank some more, quite naturally paired off, talked, joked and, of course danced. My partner, the Stuttgarter, felt warm and promising in my arms: She liked to lead and led me into dancing cheek-to-cheek and, eventually, closer than just heart-to-heart.
With August driving and his flame for the night next to him, my partner and I had the back-bench almanbahis of the Volkswagen to ourselves. There was no gradual edging closer for us. We were merry without being too drunk to be enterprising. On climbing in, my woman wedged her shapely bottom as close onto me as she could get. Bending in even closer, her lips were on mine before the engine started. By the time August pulled away from the kerb I was hers.
She was a shamelessly demanding kisser that invaded with her brandy-rich tongue the depth of my mouth. When my hand reached out for her, she pushed open her jacket offering a welcoming breast.
Breaking free of my mouth after what seemed long minutes of a probing, demanding, teasing and brazenly suggesting dance of tongues, her lips closed in on my ear. The VW engine behind our back was loud, but I heard her sexily hoarse whisper. I loved her heavy breathing into my ear with which she told me that she liked “naughty boys that liked and knew how to kiss a real woman!” Then came her afterthought: – “So many men don’t!”
She had decided that I was to be her ‘boy’ and, I suspected, took this pecking order not only for granted but delighted in it.
I can’t remember whether her judgement offended me but I decided not to submit too meekly. I pushed her back hard against the backrest. With one hand cupping a breast and the other on her neck I found her lips hungrily open. When her tongue temptingly flicked into my mouth, I sucked it in hard and deep, locking it captive with my teeth. She quickly joined in this game, pretending she wanted to rescue her tongue, fighting its capture with throaty moans but, when released and breaking momentarily free, she quickly rushed anew into a shameless, more and more suggestive coupling of our tongues.
Our fighting kissing brought us quickly into a visible, undeniable and potentially embarrassing state of arousal. We were, after all, in a cramped and shared car, under glass, driving through a brightly lit-up city. Although far from at ease with this situation, my hand had slid-up under my woman’s blouse and bra. There was no protest. As she twisted in and pressed harder into my, at first, tentative grasp for her breasts, her lips and tongue savaged mine with increased fervour.
Glancing down I saw that her skirt had slipped up on her thighs. They were temptingly waiting for my touch. When I reached for her knee, her thighs unhesitatingly parted. She brought her hot breath and a tickling flick of tongue to my ear. As my hand glided higher on the velvety inside of her unstockinged thigh, she whispered: –
“God, you are a naughty boy. Where are you going to stop? Are you?”
By then my fingers had already, unerringly found her pussy and soon one had slipped under her panties into a hot-wet welcome. She greeted it with a drawn out Yes-moan in my ear, before her lips again fastened on mine and the wild dance of her tongue let me know that this was where she liked my fingers to be.
At a traffic light, with the car stopped, she broke away from kissing. She dived down sideways, out of sight from possible lookers-in. She had gripped my wrist. My finger was held captive in her pussy.
When August pulled away from the lights, she scrambled up to continue our kissing. At the next stop at lights she again dived down, gripping my wrist not to lose me. When the car started to pull away, she pushed my hand under her buttocks. As she lifted and pushed down, three of my fingers, down to the palm, were pressed into her luscious cunt. I had never fingered a woman like that. As she rode and rocked on my stretched, clawing fingers and now wet-slippery palm, she was no longer just kissing. She was whimpering and moaning into my mouth, neck and ear, louder, I feared, than the VW’s engine-noise. I was sure that August and friend could hear.
At the next stop at traffic-lights, it was a busy, brightly-lit city-intersection, in the ecstasy of her ride, she stayed momentarily upright. But then, realising that she was in view of everybody near the car, she threw herself sideways. Curling-up on the bench, her ass pressed and ground against my hand wedged against my thigh. As we pulled away, the engine-noise covered her scream as she convulsed, shaking and squirming in the grip of her orgasm.
After a long while lying still and recovering her poise, she sat up. She turned her head to me for a gentle kiss. Eventually, with a smile and in her friendly, normal voice she said: –
“God, that was some wicked love-making. I was greedy, I needed that. But how about almanbahis giriş you, my lover-boy?”
As her hand reached across in search of my painfully restricted, overheated cock she grinned at me, her eyes gleaming: –
“Oh, what a surprise. My boy is a little excited too. We need to do something about that.”
Her eyes turned to the window. We were still in the suburbs. She grinned widely, giving me a quick little kiss: –
“With all these lights, I better stay out of sight!”
She slid down. Half kneeling in the foot-well, half laying across the bench she deftly undid my belt and unzipped my fly. With the dexterity and matter-of-factness of a nurse, she uncovered my cock for treatment. Resting her head on my thighs, she started to fondle and stroke my liberated member. When I dared to look down, I saw its moist tip centimetres from her lips, which seemed to move as if forming words. I reached down stroking over her shortish hair. She pushed lightly against my tentative pressure, then looked up at me smiling. Over the engines noise I had to watch her lips and guess. I thought I read: –
“You naughty boy! Now you want me to suck your cock, don’t you?”
Her hand, sliding up and down, brought my straining cock closer and closer to her opening lips. Her tongue began to flick over its tip: At first only almost, but then she licked it more and harder – with electrifying effect. Then her lips closed over my cock and her mouth and tongue begun their tantalising ministration. No woman had made love to me like that before. I must have cried out as I arched against her face and hand. I looked at August’s back.
He drove remarkably steady. I knew that he was watching in his mirror what was happening on the backseat. I could only hope he would keep one eye on the road. His partner had folded down the sun-guard. She had adjusted it in a way, where its make-up mirror could not have shown her face. To my surprise, I was not shocked. It was thrilling to be watched.
It was my first experience of oral sex, of being so tantalisingly pleasured by a woman’s mouth and tongue. I was also shocked. Unlike now, where oral sex has almost become a feature of light-petting and foreplay, in 1960 it was still more a whispered about perversion than common practice.
However, being so ‘loved’ by this exciting, experienced woman, I did not last long. When I felt I was going to come, I grabbed her hair and pulled her quickly away. My other hand just managed to cover my cock and direct the charge away from her face and body. Unlike today’s porn-generation, I had not learned that ‘cum’ discharged into a mouth and over face is, supposedly, an aphrodisiac for all women.
I was embarrassed about what I had done, but her response put me at ease. Sitting up she reached across at my wet crotch, unafraid to get her fingers sticky. With a giggle she said: –
“God, what a load. I’ll have to clean you up.”
She reached under her skirt, stretched out on the seat and took of her panties. Bringing them up to her nose she assured me: – “They are pretty wet already.” Then, with a nurse’s usual efficiency she cleaned me up. She decided, however, not to hide away again what she had unpacked and now tasted. My cock was left on show.
It was dark country outside; the street lights were gone. She had snuggled up to me in what seemed like satiated affection, as if the raw lust of before had gone. For a while we kissed in a much more lingering sensuous way than we had done before, with lips and tongue teasingly searching and caressing. But then, we surprised ourselves by suddenly again being drawn into bursts of deep, suggestive, tongue-fucking thrusts.
I was somewhat disturbed, half revolted, yet filled with a hitherto unknown enrapture that I wanted to kiss her like this: A mouth that had sucked my cock, that still had the taste of me on her tongue and palate! I had to know whether she wanted me as much as I still did.
I reached for her now naked crotch. I found her pussy not only willing to be caressed, but the thrust of her pelvis sunk my fingers again into the slippery, hot-sucking grip of her cunt. She cried out into my mouth and her hand gripped my hardening cock. This time I knew what she wanted. With my fingers, almost my hand, deep in her, her gyrating guided my fingers to pleasure her most sensitive spots. She whimpered and moaned and laughed into my mouth. She punished me with almost hurtful bites on my throat and neck. This time she climaxed much quicker and longer than before, while I held back. But almanbahis yeni giriş I pressed her twisting convulsing body hard against mine. It was so new to me and I wanted to keep this woman’s wonderful, orgasmic shuddering imprinted on it for ever.
When August stopped the car near the gatehouse to the Mental Asylum, he was not pleased about parking there for our Good Byes. His partner giggled and laughed a bit, playing coy. Then, however, she directed him to a secluded spot in a side lane under overhanging trees. They girls had probably been parked there before on outings like tonight!
August killed the engine. I expected him to tell us to swap seats. In my uninformed opinion the Beetle’s front was not made for sexual merry-making: Handbrake and gearstick in-between seats would interfere with even minor petting. August, however, was not to be defeated by any design flaw in his Volksie.
He got out, shut the door, walked around to the passenger side, opened the door, and ordered his partner out. Bending down he reached under the seat for the catch; pushing it back he said to us: –
“Sorry folks, you’ll have to squeeze together some more.”
He slid into the seat, reached out for his partner waiting at the door, and pulled her on his lap. The door he left wide open.
He was either not a believer in lengthy foreplay or thought that he and his woman had been aroused enough by their rear-views during the journey. Soon, and with no concern for us watchers in the back, they were fucking; in my youthful, romantic opinion rather artlessly.
My lady of this night and I had, of course, stopped our love-session while August prepared for theirs. Once they started their tryst in front of us, we could have been just watchers, just as they had been on the long trip up from St. Kilda. But my partner had other ideas. Reaching for my cock, she liked what she found. Pressing herself close she whispered in my ear: –
“God, you are a randy boy! You are hard again. Should we just watch or fuck now like them?”
She did not wait for my answer. In one swift move she straddled me, reached down, and guided my cock unerringly into her hot, slippery heat. We fucked leisurely, as if we had done it all before. Her firm buttocks lifted of my thighs till my cock’s tip just kissed and teased her pussy’s lips, then she sank, slowly gyrating down, always in search of the sweetest of pleasure.
Dawn was approaching. In looking over my partner’s shoulder while she rode me, I faced August’s woman. She was now riding him the way I was straddled. In looking over his shoulder her eyes, wide open, sought out mine, never wavering. Her moist lips parted tellingly as she smiled at me while she shook under the thrusts of August’s cock. My eyes fixed on hers and hers on mine, neither wanting to look away.
I reached down and gripped my mistress’s buttocks, pulling them apart, fingers digging into the cleft. She arched and her only half-suppressed cry filled the now silent car as I rammed my cock time and time again deep into her cunt, eventually driving us both into a shivering, twisting orgasm. Mounted on August’s cock, the other woman’s eyes had opened wide. She had watched us the long trip up to Sunbury in the mirror. She knew that I knew she had, and that in my mind as well as hers now, I had just fucked her, was climaxing in her now! It was adulterous, mind-blowing sex. I came so hard it hurt. I hoped she did too!
On the way back to Melbourne August chuckled: –
“Turned out a good night. I think I’ll have to ring them. They might like a return match.”
I was dead tired, eyes closed, laying back in my seat. August reached over, slapping me hard on the thigh: –
“Your woman has done you right in. We might have to swap partners next time.”
The thought kept him amused and me, I am ashamed to admit, tempted all the way home.
I never asked or found out if August followed up and rang the women in Sunbury to ask for a ‘rematch’. Although I was then still relatively immature, and my thoughts were far from clear, I believed that it would have ended in disappointment if we had met again.
What made our night together special was that we, four free adults, found each other by chance. That for us no talk was necessary, that for this one night we enjoyed our sexual encounter without reservations and ulterior motives. Nothing was connived, nobody exploited.
What we had that night was the pure pleasure of shame-free sex with a stranger, free of all the hidden agendas which reduces sex so often to a mere means-to-an-end. If we had met again, in an arranged meeting, the magic, which our spontaneous coupling had had for me, would have been absent.
I sensed it even then, that a ‘once more’ would have only made it less.