The young ladies receiving my attention were mostly hit and run love affairs. Either they wanted my undivided attention; hinted about going steady, fell in love and talked marriage and babies. That wasn’t for me yet because I relished my bachelor freedom and free spirit, and also came to the realization that the women in my life were trying to subdue me. All the flattery, compliments, invitations, come-ons, sexual gratification and gifts from them were mostly ploys, and I wasn’t the predator. Now here’s the thing about all the sexual experiences had with these girlfriends of mine, I didn’t at any time loose respect for them or them with me, and there was no malice or remorse shown in any form on either side. When occasionally bumping into each other and having a chat about how our life was going, it was always positive in the affirmation that our time spent together had been a good learning curve that had held us in good stead. Not also knowing what sort of woman I would make a commitment to, kept me playing the field and experimenting in sexual innovations to gain more experience.
Mary was a petite little thing, but the problem was that I would get her into trouble with her mother for wanting to make out on their couch. Her mother must have had a six sense or had checked me out when I came a calling. At night even though their family were in bed and asleep, the mother would somehow know what we were up to and would appear without us hearing her so as to chastise me for keeping her daughter up that late, and that the couch was for sitting on and not for lying down on. Meeting Mary was through the failing of my bicycle brakes. I was a speedster and would frequently overtake slow moving motorcars. Cornering was another of my madcap capabilities where I would be going hell-for-leather at an inclined angle when rounding it. It was while doing that when a man crossed the road in front of me and I grasped at my brake levers. I had always prided myself on the maintenance of it and my bicycle, but at that precise moment it let me down for the first time when my brake cables snapped. Going at that speed all I could do was swerve and the front wheel hit the road kerb. I was pitched off, flew forward through the air and landed in somebodies front garden. I was shaken but not too bad for wear, except my hands that were gravel scratched in trying to stop myself from crashing head first into the house. A girl who was standing in the garden got the fright of her life on seeing me sailing over their fence and land within 2 feet of her. Picking myself up and asking to use the garden tape water to wash and stop the flow of blood got her to suggest that I come into the house to have it bandaged instead, and that girl was Mary. She was also a very attractive, and I knew from the moment laying eyes on her that I wanted to get to know her better. Her tender touch when bandaging me up was the catalyst for me to chat her up, and my success for been able to see her again was due to the compliments paid to the skill in which she had bandaged me up. From there I progressed to dates to the movies, which she couldn’t seem to get enough of, but it was right up my alley because I knew the usher at the Colosseum bioscope in Cape Town who saw that I would have private seats right at the back away from the other patrons. Then it was on for young and old that she also seemed not to get enough of. There were times that I had to curb her for wanting to sit on my lap to get nearer to me. She was really hot to trot, but what saved my bacon was that my mother actually came to her house one night to fetch me way from there after my sisters, who thought she was a bad influence on me, told my mother about her.
Then there was Lucille who through an off-colour remark from her older girlfriend, when in their company, that a man’s thing resembled a carrot and mine would have the knobbly bits on it, and my reply that mine only had one big knob, caused Lucille to latch onto me quick smart. We became amorous on the weekly nights that we met away from the home of her strict aunt with whom she lived. Our romancing was in dark alleyways or in the aunt’s darkened garden behind a high myrtle hedge that grew to the side of the house. It was uncomfortable but you took it where you got it when the receiving was as good as the giving. I think because of the comment of her friend she playfully suggested that I sneak into her bedroom when the aunt was asleep. The aunt was a reputable midwife, the uncle a reputable teacher and I had a concern for her reputation, but she was adamant that I at least give it a try. To please her and somehow myself too, I arrived at the time designated, parked my bicycle within the hedge and entered quietly through the front door that had been left slightly open. Waiting inside in the dark she led me to her bedroom. It seemed she wasn’t going to wait around for small talk or preliminary smooching, for after locking the door she began removing her blouse and skirt, and not being lazy I followed suit with my pants and shirt. In her underwear she was more alluring and desirable, and when on the comfort of the bed we were all over each other like a rash. She though must have had only one thing in mind to the curiosity that had been instilled by her friend and my remark as she begun to tug at my underpants. One of the things that I had learnt about a woman when romancing was that if of their own accord they removed their panties, that it was either to be masturbated or for cunnilingus or sex. Of course if a man did the same thing in a similar situation it was that he thought it would impress and be a turn on for the woman to be either masturbated or for fellatio or sex. So up to then having not done any of that to each other, her trying to remove my underpants was a sure indication that one of those was going to occur. She became annoyed though on stopping her, and was also taken aback when telling her if she removed mine she would also have to remove hers, which wasn’t what she expected. Because she was a virgin and wanted to remain that way for longer, she must have been under the impression that if we both were unclothed I would want to have sex. Her further backing off reasoning of only wanting to determine what either her friend or I had said was true was that hilarious that I obliged her, and it must have impressed and turned her on because without any hesitation she removed hers also. Her further inquisitiveness because of seeing, resulted in wanting a closer inspection and I obliged her again. On the other hand, no pun intended, because there was something that I had wanted to experiment with and experience, and because it seemed the optimal moment, I encouraged her in a 69 position to do that. That position puzzled her at first until I embarked on my own pleasurable intimate undertaking, and although not expecting anything from her due to not having done it before; nevertheless, the outcome of her impassioned copying brought about the act of fellatio, and combined with my savoir-faire of cunnilingus we both came. Her aunt came too; to the locked door to inquire if she was all right after hearing Lucille’s emitted loud sexual sounds. By Lucille assuring her that she must have had a bad dream, the aunt reluctantly left, and I left soon after too. We never used her bedroom again because the uncle had sighted the parked bicycle in passing and had told the aunt about it. She in turn reprimanded Lucille for having me in her room; nonetheless, she was given permission for me to call on her while the aunt was there, but only to visit. I never took up that offer because of either scared of the aunt or embarrassed of her knowing that I had been responsible for the sexual sounds. We did though go on with our romancing where ever, and it was more sexually stimulating then.
With Grace the problem eventually was a male’s reversible ploy. A friend of mine whose sister was going out with her brother was through the way we met. It was while at my friend’s home that she arrived with the brother and I took an instant liking to her. She was flirtatious, vivacious and loved dancing, and that was my cue to get close up and personal with her. My favourite dance at that time was jiving and so was hers, so when that sort of music came over the radio while everybody was chatting away, I indicated to dance, and to everyone’s surprise moved chairs out of the way and went for it. We also went for it in the surrounding environs of Rondebosch where she lived that had wooded sloops strewn with boulders, shrubbery and thickly foliaged, and it made an ideal place to make out. If your girlfriend’s front door faces the beginning of the sloops of Table Mountain and you go visiting, if a mountaineer as I was then, it didn’t matter if it was on the Cape Flats side and not Cape Town’s side. It was difficult though to visit her by bicycle, which was easy with the other girls because they lived within my neighbourhood, seeing that the roads leading to her home were pretty steep and I would have been too exhausted for anything else but rest when arriving there, and with her enthusiasm for life and romancing I had to be super fit, so I traveled by two buses and strolled the rest of the way to her home. On one of my visits to her home, which was on a Sunday, it wasn’t only her immediate family there; it looked like the rest of her relatives had come on a day outing. They crowded the lounge, dinning and kitchen area, and that was beside the children who played outside. It was puzzling at first because they all welcomed me as if I was a long lost friend and questioned me unceasingly about my activities and life style. When speaking to her on the quite to ask what that was all about and if that was the turn out of the family every Sunday, she laughingly told me that because she had been singing my praises they wanted to see firsthand what I was all about, but they had never congregated on a Sunday like that before. It actually boosted my ego and I thought I was cock of the walk; however, it was proven later that it wasn’t the case because of her trying to take it for a walk up the garden path.
My usual gradual progress of wooing a woman with patience and understanding didn’t seem to be necessary with her, and she became my Friday night girlfriend because it was convenient to go around straight after work and not travel the distance to her home. Having four hours of daylight still left allowed me time to explore the mountain sloops with her accompanying me, and she at times became a nice hindrance for wanting to rather explore sexual activities. If wanting to stay after nightfall she would pack a meal and blankets, rug up, and we would be as snug as two bugs in a rug with a crackling fire in the open to keep us company. My other love, dancing, always saw me organizing a night out at functions nearby at Rondebosch and Wynberg Town Halls, and in that way she could be taken home and I could get a bus home. There was only one occasion though when I walked the one and a half hours walk home. We were both caught up in drawn out impassioned delights in their garden shed back of the house that had a spare mattress in it, which we retreated to at times for privacy because of their large family, and time didn’t seem of the essence because I was sleeping over on the settee. I really had strong feelings towards her because of finding her exciting to be with and that she had a devil-my-care attitude about her, and perceived she felt the same way about me; however, those torrid delights were halfway interrupted though when she suspended it by saying she wanted to have a talk. Having found that some women would do that at the most inconceivable time was then no exception to the rule, and her outright question was if I loved her. To me it was the scenario of if you don’t love me you can’t sex with me, and at that fantasized moment of coitus it was interrupts, which caused flaccidity. I couldn’t believe that with her it was the usual prove that you love me male ploy. I was stunned; brought about by her loving attitude and relentless sexual overtures that had lead me to believe that she was as satisfied as I was in the way it was going without sexual intercourse occurring. It threw me; nevertheless, I had the presence of mind to say that if ever I were to declare my love it wouldn’t be because I wanted to have sex. That gave her some long thought while I waited impatiently, and when wanting to discuss it with further explanations I rather bade her goodnight as it had spoiled it for me, and I walked the long miles home.
Marlene my typist girlfriend had the most fascinating green eyes that I had ever seen and I would get lost in them. I met her by running her over with my bicycle that sent typist manuscripts flying. I suppose you can say we were both at the right place at the right time if speeding out of the church grounds exit of St Mary of the Angel’s on my bicycle and side swiping her when suddenly coming into view at its entrance. Being apologetic and picking both her and her scattered papers up was no consolation for the glare directed at me. The slight gash on her leg that was bleeding profusely, grazed hand and real limp didn’t help matters either. But being the Boy Scout I had been and carrying my always-handy handkerchief around with me at all times, and still do, and because there was a water tap nearby in the church grounds, I assisted her under protest into it. As she wasn’t able to put pressure on the leg yet she sat on the grassed ground, and when wanting to apply the water-wet handkerchief to the bleeding wound on the lower thigh she pushed my hand away and did it herself. Seeing also the start of a bruise on her ankle and knowing that she couldn’t go anywhere on it, I excused myself and went into the church sacristy that was always unlocked during the day and commandeered an old altar boys surplice that I tore into strips. Her apparent anger and displeasure was still visible when gingerly wrapping her ankle with the water soaked strips as a cold compression, but it soon changed her expression to one of relief. The thigh wound was still bleeding, and because of how and what had been done to the ankle she begrudgingly allowed the bandaging of it too. With the long skirt held tightly just above the gash and her legs straight out there was no way to bandage it properly. Advising that the bending of the leg at the knee would assist got me a scowl but she reluctantly complied. I didn’t intend to while having to wrap the make shift bandage in a wide arch around the thigh, but it caused me to inadvertently spread her legs apart and look down her thighs at her nicker covered crotch. My instant reverting of my eyes and looking to see if my action had been noticed, had been, and it was really only then that I became very aware of the emerald magnetism of her eyes that were flashing with anger. To ease the situation for the pending vehement tongue-lashing expected, I told her that she had the most exquisite eyes and that it put to shame any emeralds found in rings and brooches. When a slight smile appeared I also assured her that if she allowed me to gaze into them while wrapping the bandage I wouldn’t be tempted to do that again, and that brought a laugh and consent.
The bicycle that caused the mishap also became the vehicle to transport her to the bus terminus where she always boarded a bus to go home, but I in no way was allowed to cycle her there though. Sitting on the bicycle bar with her arms around my neck I wheeled it there with her squealing and laughing every time the bicycle wobbled slightly. When wanting to see her safely home, which could have been done by leaving the bicycle at my uncle John’s fish shop that was near the terminus, it was quelled with the information that her mother wasn’t a very understanding woman, and if seeing her come home with an unknown man and bandaged up, anything could happen. Although leaving a lasting impression on her by that accident, I didn’t want it to be the last of seeing her, so before leaving to create a better impression I took her grazed hand as if to look at it but surprised and delighted her by kissing it. Not able to get in touch I surprised her by turning up at the typing class I knew she was attending, and that’s how she became my Thursday night girlfriend. She had removed the bandage on the ankle before getting home, kept the one on the thigh because it was covered by the long skirt, and explained away the limp as having tripped and knocked her ankle against a road kerb. To lie that convincingly to her mother and be believed was to look at it as someone who couldn’t be trusted, or a future honourable honest friend who would stick by you through thick and thin, and she proved to be the latter. Although becoming chummy friends we still romanced even though she had the problem of not having boyfriends allowed to her home, and to do that when bringing her home at night we made out at a place found not far from their home. Large shrubs outside a wooden fenced house beneath a magnificent thick foliage tree with drooping branches concealed us from prying eyes, and at times shelter from the weather too. Summer nights were the best when lightly dressed because there weren’t much clothing obstructions to get close for intimate affection that would raise to fervour our kindled bodily pleasure. It was the cold rainy winter nights when warm clothing and coats were a necessity, and it wasn’t at all pleasurable for us when hugging and embracing each other’s unshaped thickly clothed bodies while our ardency craved further arousal. We found though that by unbuttoning or unzipping all of our outer thick clothing to loosen its bounding, and with her standing within my buttoned up overcoat, we overcame that. That pleasurable closeness didn’t only emit heat from our inflamed responsive bodies, but it was also a double bonus of keeping us as warm as toast and the winter cold out.
We found that because we were intimate friends we could be frank and open about anything. In those days some adolescent girls wouldn’t even mention anything concerning sex, let alone discuss anything sexual. Marlene on the other hand, who as the same as me had also been pubertal at ten years old, picked my brains for sexual instruction knowledge that her mother hadn’t educated her about. Menstruating while making out caused her untold embarrassment the first time, at any rate when whipping out my trusty handkerchief as a temporary sanitary pad for the menses, she did laughingly comment about the handiness of it. We would at times also discuss our youthful pubertal experiences, and it was a laugh to hear tell how her mother on noticing her slightly developing breast ask if she had bumped herself there. She also had me in stitches on telling how she use to comb and brush her pubic hair in thinking that it would grow as long as her head hair, and on her first menstruation she had thought it was due to masturbating. My revelation got the dog barking behind the wooden fence with her peals of laughter. On telling her when discovering what looked to me like little breast developing around my nipples at the commencement of my pubertal stage, it got me to think I was becoming a girl, and I would scrutinize my genitals just in case there was something else developing there also. She just about also convulsed with laughter when telling how on my first ejaculation on masturbating in the backyard toilet, made me think that the whitish semen spurting from me was from the glass of milk drunk just before doing that. She didn’t get it at first when told she should eventually invest in a chastity belt, because to me it seemed in the cards that although still a virgin then, she wouldn’t remain that way for too long with some other boyfriend. The realization that as chums who respected each other’s viewpoints, extremely compatible with our general outlook on life, weren’t in love with each other but still loved the intensity of our amorous dual participation, there was one thing that we wouldn’t do to destroy it all and that was to have sex with each other. Part of that was her chaste concept of only to concede her virginity to the man who really loved her and her in return, and it clicked with me that we were birds of a feather. Her happy disposition over time became somewhat sullied though by what she thought her mother’s unreasonable attitude for not allowing a boyfriend to visit her in their home. She also complained that her brother who was only two years older than her was allowed to bring his girlfriend home, and was also privileged by been allowed in his bedroom where they would lay on the bed, muck about and make out. She longed for that, and although I had tried simulating that by spreading my overcoat on the ground it wasn’t the same for her though, and then out of the blue we were indirectly and unexpectedly helped, which was something that always just seemed to happen with me. Although it was pelting down with rain one night we were cozy against the fence and well sheltered under the close weaved thick leaves of the tree that acted as an umbrella. While amorously lost within my coat as usual we became aware of someone who had thought the tree was a good place to shelter under also from the heavy downpour that was occurring. An ‘ahem’ made his presence known, and that was how I met her brother who was on his way home from the bus stop. With the brother on telling the mother when getting home, and the mother in return wanting to know from her for how long that had been going on, Marlene with her honest convictions that true friends should defend each other’s honour upheld mine. Her rightful frustration also of the mother allowing the visiting of the brother’s girlfriend and his dobbing in of her made her resolute to keep on meeting me that way and told the mother so. Not having seen her that determined and sure of herself, the mother relented and told her that it would be advisable and safer if we rather met indoors at their home. I met the mother, charmed the pants off her and got invited to many family meals.
Marlene was the only girlfriend who actually made an effort to accompany me when cycling to my favourite pleasantly relaxing localities on some weekends, and her ‘I think Harold is the-best-thing-since-sliced-bread’ mother bought her a bicycle to do that. Liesbeeck River that meandered from Rondebosch, where the natural spring water there was used by Schweppes for their sparkling drinks, broadened into a rivulet whose grassed sloped banks where dotted with weeping willows and luxuriant shrubbery. She would pack a lunch so that it wasn’t only bicycle rides but excursions too. When pausing in our wanderings along its banks to recline under one of those overgrown, graceful sweeping tendril leafed weeping willows to watch the water birds, ducks and swans in there element, I too would be in my element when initiating teasing frisky sexual arousal for both of us. We were always under the impression that those weeping willow tendrils that cascaded down right around us even into the water concealed us from prying eyes, but we were wrong. At one time we heard girlish giggles coming from within the tendrils back of us. Glancing back we saw two young girls, who must have sneaked up on us, concealed themselves amongst it, kept very quiet watching us and must have thought it amusing. Scrambling up from within the clinging tendrils we saw them beating a hasty retreat. We never tried that there again though, but we did at other quiet, peaceful and secluded places that had just as pleasant features to complement its surrounds, and weren’t spied upon there. One other unexpected place where we did succeed to have that opportunity and make her day was at her home. After having slept in because it was a public holiday, and been at loose ends with time on my hands until the evening when visiting Grace, I decided to jump on my trusty bicycle to have an undecided destination ride. It took me through the backwoods of Elsie’s River where I swung back to Epping Forest and raced there along Gunner’s Circle, which had been a racing car racing track in previous years and had become part of a main thoroughfare, and from there I freewheeled downhill onto the main highway that would take me back to Athlone. With plenty of time still the factor and as luck would have it with Marlene’s home on the way, I turned in to give her a surprise visit. She answered the door with towel wrapped wet hair and was that delighted to see me that she kissed me while pulling me indoors, which was something she never did because of the mother always around, and told me that I had arrived at an opportune moment. One of it was that because of her rather long hair she requested my assistance in drying it and the other was that both her mother and brother were away for the day.
Their sunny fenced backyard was where she sat on the ground leaning against my knees with her wet hair falling down my thighs as I sat behind her while drying it. My hectic distant cycling had caused a work up of sweat, and the warm sun that was also causing me to perspire profusely caused me to remove my t-shirt. On seeing that and because of feeling hot too she removed hers also, and that was the preliminary for what was to be a very eventful public holiday for both of us without any perving public. Although playfully mucking around when visiting, with her mother always there we hadn’t been given the opportunity to do that in her bedroom, and it wasn’t for the want of trying. The mother frowned on it so we left well alone. She wasn’t going to leave it alone though after her hair was towel and sun dried, especially as it was something that she had yearned for and thought would never eventuate. Her girlish enthusiasm knew no bounds as her bed became a fixed obsession when she grabbed me to frolic all over it. Although having an amicable relationship with every once and awhile half divesting through seeking bodily pleasure we had never seen each other au natural before. Her wicked expression also showed in the gleam of those green eyes, and when asking me to unhook her bra so that she too could be bare chest as I was, was an indication that she was getting good and ready for better things. I had handled and teased those before, but it had always been under cover of darkness and under her clothing though, and on seeing them stand proudly projected and peaked, so did I. My cycling shorts wasn’t hiding anything neither, and her sinful smile and words of what else was going to happen to me if she removed the rest brought on a lecherous arousal. Her seeing that got me to be the recipient of a slow strip tease, but not wanting to be outdone by her tempting display I began to unloosen my shorts too. She though was having none of that for she pushed me down flat on my back on the bed where she began to slowly remove them. She had felt but hadn’t really seen what was standing proud at that moment, which caused the evil smile to reappear again. She wasn’t going to stand on ceremony nor waste what she called precious time, and with me still on my back she just climbed all over me. It was like she was liberated as she eased herself closer and giggled like a schoolgirl. At the same time though while staring at each other with our own conflicting thoughts but savouring every moment, we both must have at the back of our minds contemplated that we didn’t want to lose the love of our friendship even though the sex part was very tempting at that moment. The other pleasures derived though was written all over her face, and although pleasurable for me too, I was more pleased that I had been at the right place at the right time to be able to fulfill her desirable yearning that had allowed what only the mother had granted to the brother. So that the mother wouldn’t be aware of what had transpired she changed the soiled sheets and put them in the wash, and then we had a mucking about shower. When wanting to dress she requested that we remain that way because of wanting to keep the feeling of able to do that as she might never get a chance again like that. I was easy, and it was fun romping through the house with either her or me in hot pursuit of each other.
Good Catholic girl Cynthia was one of the girls that I eventually walked home after a dance at our church hall, but with her though I had to go a long way around to do that. I got to know about her because her sister and I were in the same class at St Raphael’s School, and her sister had a crush on me but not me on her. I had seen Cynthia with her and had liked what I saw, but at least if she wouldn’t give me the time of day, she could I thought return my greeting or smile, but she didn’t. Been ignored like that got my dander up and I thought of ways and means to resolve that. The opportunity showed itself by the means of when she would receive communion at mass. With me been the altar boy that held the silver platter under the communion recipients chin when those at mass would come up to the altar rails to receive communion from the priest, I saw a way for her to take notice of me. With her solemn and all and with eyes closed to receive communion, I slightly pressed the silver platter against her neck that made her eyes pop open and for me to give her a slight wink. Because of that she must have forgotten for one moment where she was because her mouth remained open as if hanging in frozen suspense. Collecting herself because the priest had moved on to the next recipient already, she made her way to the church front where she was sitting with her father and two sisters, but she was eyeing me. What occurred after mass was for parishioners to congregate at the church hall for a cuppa and biscuits, which was necessary in those days because of the strict fasting implied if receiving communion and they had a long way to walk home before having breakfast there. What also happened at the hall then was that those who cared to socialize further would play at board and card games. I knew my opportunity had arrived when the three sisters sat down to play a card game and required a fourth. It also helped because their father and mine were friends and they too had set up a card game of a foursome. Wanting to get Cynthia on her own when we had finished playing at cards, I suggested a game of draughts with her as my opponent that she accepted, but seeing how her sister looked dejected because of also wanting to have a game with me, I had to promise to have one with her too. The first thing Cynthia wanted to know, when out of ear shot of the others, was if I did that to all the girls that came up for communion, and my thought out beforehand answer knowing that she would ask that, was to tell her that I only did it to the pretty and attractive ones. It seems compliments gets one everywhere and with her it was no exception. Of course there was still the father to win over seeing how he was a widower, his three daughters lived with him and they were always in his company, which she told me about when asking if I could come and visit her at her home or if we could meet up somewhere else. But seeing how he and my father were friends, I became the convenient messenger to convey messages from my father to him because in those days only business people owned phones. This brought me more into her and the sisters company, and the positive side of it was the that it allowed him to pursue further outside interest on his own while I was there because he must of thought there was safety in numbers. The negative aspect was that the other two sisters didn’t get the message that Cynthia wanted to be alone with me and they always hung around till my leaving. The two sisters reminded me of Mary and Martha in the biblical story where the one would busy herself with preparing a meal for Jesus, which was what those two always did for me, while Cathleen who acted as the attentive one listening to me would be at me as soon as they were out of sight. She was becoming pretty frustrated with the situation because the entire family did everything as a group, and the father with the exception of me wouldn’t let them out of his sight.
A helpful event changed that though through an unexpected source. Father Jerome, who was an experienced mountaineer, climbed Slangolie (Snake Gully) early on a Sunday morning accompanied by parishioners who thought it a good experience for their older children to do that climb with them. He had selected the quickest but not easiest climb of Snake Gully, so named because it writhed like a snake up the mountainside and was in a gully, and although strewn with boulders, loose rocks underfoot and tiring for the uninitiated they made it to the top. Now the mountaineering group that I belonged to would spend it up on Cape Town’s mountain environs, at times over a long weekend, and we were there to welcome them with sustenance after receiving communion at the mass that was been celebrated there by Father Jerome. Now guess who I had encouraged to ask her father if she could accompany him on that trip, and to sweeten it I asked my father to let one of my sisters accompany him too so that they would be company for each other. Obviously I was on my best behaviour, and after mass and breakfast I took them on a grand tour of breath taking scenic beauty and interest that ended at the ranger’s hut where we always stayed at. Her father was not only impressed with the arrangements there but also with the security of the older mountain rangers and adult female mountaineers of our parish that always supervised us. Their group though were heading back after lunch, but wanting her to stay I approaching him to plead her case of further explore the environs the following day. His fatherly attitude was one of concern, however, when assuring him that I would take good care of her and with my father backing it up, we were in like Flynn (The actor Errol Flynn who had the reputation of having been very successful sexually with his leading ladies). Lying out under the stars with a mound of leaves as a bed, a cascading waterfall and a rippling bubbling stream as nature’s music, the soft rustling in the trees by a balmy summer breeze and a man you cared for holding you in his arms on that mountain, was an answer to her pray. She was young, sexually inexperienced, also a virgin, and a good Catholic girl I was told. We had sneaked away under cover of darkness to where I had previously that evening set up the site that I thought would become a romancing nest, but instead I was chastised for wanting to get real close. When she reminded me of my promise to her father and his trust in me, and that he was the only close male in her life, it made me realize that I was the second. I was also amazed when talking frank to her about my life and she opened up about theirs for having a father only. From a young age they had listened to their father’s values, especially the ‘thou shalt not’ that he instilled in them. It seemed to me that he was super protective over his daughters, and I knew then that in no way was anything-sexual going to happen that night. Those little setbacks never troubled me for there were always others, so we made out to her satisfaction and then we sneaked back. It didn’t also faze me seeing that we were going to spend the next day together on the mountain and I was going to take her for further exploring, and for other exploring by me to let her gain some sexual experience.
Taking her on easy climbs to my favourite serene tranquil places early the next morning must have filled her with awe and stirred her senses for she became very affectionate. At the last location taken to, the sparkling rippling water that flowed amongst the rocks in eddied formation in a stream that came from a silvery gentle splashing waterfall that was surrounded with luxuriant foliage made her grasp me in wonder as she stood spellbound. Because she had wanted to get closer to the waterfall we wadded barefooted through the stream towards the rocks beneath the waterfall. There were no showers on the mountain or laundry facilities, what there was were streams like that one and gentle waterfalls that we washed in. It was either in privacy or unmixed groups for bathing and mucking about in, and seeing that it was my third day I required a shower. While observing and absorbing the beauty of the surroundings while sunning ourselves on a rock I told her of my intention and why. She had laughed thinking it a joke, on the other hand when stripping off and standing under the falling water I thought that she must have had an attack of apoplexy. She had become as one with the rock and just stared at my naked body with gaping mouth while I washed myself. We males always washed ourselves with our underpants, washed it in return and then hung it out to dry, and so too did some of the females. She couldn’t even turn her head to look away or shut her eyes, so when lying naked next to her to let the sun dry me I asked if she wanted to wash too seeing that it was her second day there. Not answering but shaking her head with a no, I asked logically if she had brought a change of underwear seeing that it was only have supposed to have been a day trip climb with their group. Her mouth moved but there was no sound, so thinking it was a no I told her if she removed her panties she could wash them and hang them with mine to dry. That remark made her words explode out of her mouth. I wasn’t been chastised then, her questions were more about the nonchalance of my immodesty and flaunting of my nakedness. I knew then that her life had been also of a sheltered one concerning nudity. It also reinforced my belief that my early childhood environment had instilled within me openness to the human body. To me there was no embarrassment or shame attached to nakedness, and it must have assisted others too in our close-knit little neighbourhood. Quietly and seriously while lying on my stomach so as not to embarrass her any further effected by her eyes that had kept darting to my penis, I explained all of that to her. She listened attentively but shyly, and her only comment was that if she had a brother she would have by then not have been that perplexed and troubled on seeing me naked. Telling me also that she showered every day got me to assure her that I wouldn’t look while she undressed and washed. She did, and surprised me even further by also washing her shorts, shirt, bra and panties that she hung next to mine. Asking me still not to look I felt her presence beside me as she settled down onto the rock. Then demurely and shyly told me that it was all right to open my eyes that found her lying face down next to me on the warm rock to sun and dry off. Getting her that far was a result in its self. Although when looking sideways at her I couldn’t but help to caste my eyes down her firm well-rounded body, especially her squashed breast peeking out on the side and her half-moon shaped buttocks. Seeing that the warm sun had caressed and dried the back of our bodies I suggested we turn around so as to expose our fronts to that same condition. She was shy about that too, but again I promised to shut my eyes. Opening them my gaze then lingered discreetly on her breast that were not squashed then but stood firmly and proudly pointing skywards. Further glancing down skimmed over her taut stomach to sight her pubic mound that seemed as if to invite the sunlight to play amongst the shimmering pubic hair, and it was that mesmerizing and inviting that I too wanted to play there too but my hand was slapped. What surprised me though was when she sidled towards me to kiss and cuddle. I had thoughts then that maybe she had forgotten our state of undress or that maybe she didn’t realize what would occur to me just by doing that, which did, and again she surprised me when saying that she didn’t mind just feeling me against her that one time as long as I didn’t go any further. Maybe the father saw me as a prospective son-in-law when allowing her to further mountaineer with our group, which improved her sexual education, but the only strange perplexing thing was that she wouldn’t allow me to touch her genitals with my hands.
We still also had the problem of the two sisters when visiting, although it had improved with me been allowed to take her to private parties where we were rid of them. However, matters got out of hand or rather in hand in the taking of her to one of those parties. The father and two daughters were going to a church dance and we two were going to a party. On arriving at her home and with her not been ready yet, we chatted while she was in her bedroom and I in the lounge. One of her comments was that it was the first time we had been alone together in their home, and my reply that maybe we should make the most of it while walking impatiently into her bedroom for taking that long to dress found her slipping it on. Because she was two paces away from me, with her arms in the sleeves of the dress above her head and covered by it, and because the upward stretching of her arms brought into view her pulling taut panties that outlined the genitals, in that split second while my eyes were glued at that tempting sight my desire to touch the untouchable became unbearable, and I did by slipping my hand down the inside front. Her arms came down quick smart as she tried unsuccessfully to pull the dress down in front so as to push my hand away. Just holding my hand there within and nothing else, I promised to remove it when told why she didn’t want to be touched there. Standing there like that had not only made me horny but it must of her too, for when I suggested that we lay down on her bed to discuss it she wanted to first remove her dress with the excuse so as not to crease and ruffle it. She hadn’t been amused at first; nonetheless, seeing the funny side of it when I wanted to divest too, especially as I wouldn’t remove my hand had sent her into a fit of giggles. It had taken me a frustrating time to get there and there was no way I was going to let go of that warm softness. Somehow we managed that with all the mirth, and while lying down she explained why. It had to do with her strict Catholic upbringing concerning masturbation, and it was the same problem of my ‘thou shalt not.’ With her though she had adopted a dread of her hands near her genitals because it would lead to an uncontrollable urge to play with it, masturbate, feel as guilty as sin afterwards, and then had to go and confess it to a priest. I though also been a Catholic had never had the guilt complex of masturbating due to my father having got me at a young age a book called “what every young man should know”, good old dad. I never use to confess it even though we were told, “we would burn in hell”. Yeah like been a paedophile won’t see that happening. That was the reason for not wanting me to touch her there, but by using a bit of cheap psychology and telling her that the sin would fall on me if I did it and not her, she smiling consented. Asking how she felt with my hand all that time there brought a sigh, smile and that it felt good. Her quizzing expression on me also taking her hand and slowly inserting it down my fronts first brought a gasp of surprise but she kept it there. Her wanting to see as well as feel what my manipulations were that was evoking so much pleasure in comparison to when she did, resulted in her slipping off her underwear, and when asking to do the same to me she did. Her holding of me as if holding a candle at first was slowly clenched tighter with every tremulous contraction she felt, which caused my accelerated recoiling that culminated into a dual submissive release. The party was also more fun for her that night because of having less sexual hang-ups to the extent that she openly displayed over affection and attachment that she hadn’t done before, which made me wary in case she had further intentions concerning me. Be that as it may, I was agreeable though with what she suggested when walking her home across a bushed field while kissing and cuddling and she indicated her intention of wanting to do it again. By removing my jacket for both of us to recline on in the darkness with only the starry night looking down on us we obliged each other again.
21 Capuchin Street, Athlone, is the way the house looks now in comparison to when I lived there as a scholar, adolescent worker, the hangout of my friends and from where I visited all of my girlfriends until the age of 22. The front recessed stoep with a front door and a side one has now been replaced with a complete front door only. The house on the right is completely new, and because it has been built forward has seen the depletion of the vast amount of fruit trees that were previously there. Those trees were the ones that I would climb, and under concealment of the foliage would scrounge any of the fruit I desired. It was also from the concealment of those trees that I inadvertently one day observed through an open window into the house before we lived there, the girl that lived there divest her school clothes into her house ones.