I can vividly remember being totally fascinated by identical triplets at my nudist club, called Woodlands, which was located near Liverpool west of Sydney. They were absolutely gorgeous young women and we would sit naked around the club’s pool and chat regularly. I tried to be ‘cool’ and not make it obvious that I was intrigued by the fact that their vaginas were also ‘identical’ in appearance.
What struck me most though, was the fact that I could sit comfortably with these beautiful young women, who were my age and not be at all physically aroused by their presence.
During these years, I was also a volunteer lifesaver at Sydney’s Tamarama Beach. On one Sunday, I was scheduled for an afternoon patrol on the beach. After sitting with the triplets at the nudist club in the morning I drove the 100kms into the city to do my patrol.
On this day, I had one of those ‘enlightenments’ that occasionally gave clarity to the jumble of thoughts that forever raced through my subconscious.
While sitting on the beach patrolling the surf AND watching the passing parade of attractive bikini clad and topless women (common on Tamarama Beach in the 1960’s) I found myself distracted by some of these clothed women. WHAT THE FUCK! I can remember thinking to myself! Why am I being distracted by these clothed women, yet comfortable sitting with three gorgeous NAKED women, earlier that very same day???
My self-analysis revealed that what was arousing me was the vibrant colours of their bikinis attracting my attention to their vaginal region. Their clothing was highlighting their sexuality – not diminishing it, as was (and still is) the common ‘misconception’.
Of course, women have known this for eons and spend billions upon billions of dollars on clothing that they hope will make them MORE attractive than Nature has endowed. This is a ‘two-edge’ sword and has a very anti-social backlash by enhancing the sexual tension between men and women. Even a burkha will have the same effect. Covering a woman’s natural features, with any sort of clothing, only highlights the mystery behind them.
CHAPTER 4
Who’s the Teacher?
My first real relationship was with Cheryl. I can’t remember how we met, but we dated for many months and Cheryl broke my virginity. Strangely, sex didn’t seem such a big deal.
My relationship with my Cheryl taught me another valuable lesson about women. Just by treating them all with respect, doesn’t mean that respect will be returned.
After more than six months into our relationship, Cheryl was hospitalised for a short period. On one occasion while I was visiting her mood changed and she became teary. When I asked what was the matter, she said… “I think I’m pregnant… will you stand by me?” I answered, hesitantly, “Uh, yes! Er, of course I will!”
The drive home from the hospital that night was one of the most traumatic of my life to that point. I was still at university, had no way of supporting a family and had no money in the bank. More to the point, I definitely wasn’t ready to settle down with a wife and child. BUT, decided I would ‘do the right thing’. I also couldn’t believe that despite all the ‘careful’ planning of our sex around her periods and using condoms, she had still fallen pregnant.
Thankfully, Cheryl eventually realised my anguish and reluctance and admitted she wasn’t pregnant and we parted ways. She had thrown the dice and she’d lost the gamble.
I was to learn later in life how nasty some women can become when they ‘throw the dice’ in the game with men.
My next sexual encounter was with Jan, whom I met at university. We never got to final base, but did ‘fool around’ a lot. I was to realise with Jan that vaginas can get very wet. She literally gushed at my first touch. Not that I could claim any amazing control either. I’d often find it difficult not to cum after a short time of her tender touch or sucking. She certainly did seem to love sucking my cock, and I had absolutely no objections to her lustful desires.
Another situation where my sexual knowledge of the opposite sex was expanding occurred during a part time job I got by working as a ‘stooge’ for a Sydney hypnotist, who called himself, The Great Gregory. I was chosen from a group of more than 20 applicants for the position after a Saturday hypnotic selection process at his home in the Sydney Eastern Suburbs. I was studying for my first degree at the University of New South Wales and needed money to keep myself fed and clothed. I was earning an income as a professional footballer as well, but this little bit extra income made life that much easier.
I was required to attend all Gregory’s stage shows and be amongst those willing to volunteer at the beginning of each show. Gregory would then do a cull of volunteers until he had a handful of people, one of whom would be me, left on stage to complete his show. He became a very popular stage act and we did shows at some of the major venues around Sydney. I became his most popular ‘stooge’ when he realized my nudist lifestyle. One of his favourite routines was to get one of his volunteers to do a strip to the music of ‘The Stripper’. He would always stop the strip when his volunteer got down to his jocks. He always used males for this act!
When he realized my comfort with nudity he asked me during a full ‘undress’ rehearsal once whether I’d be willing to go ‘The Full Monty’ on stage. I knew I was generously endowed from my experiences as a nudist and when Gregory noticed my ‘bounty’ he was keen to utilize my extraordinary physical asset in his act. I was a little reticent, but found when he hypnotized me, I became fully relaxed and uninhibited. He had found a way of tapping into my exhibitionistic tendencies. I wasn’t silly though and insisted on a higher rate of pay as a ‘stooge’ whenever I did a full strip, to which he happily agreed.
At every venue, Gregory would check with management to get approval for the full strip and he’d let me know when it was to be included in the show.
I can remember the first time I did the full strip was at a large popular hotel at Brighton Le Sands in Sydney’s southern suburbs. This hotel had a reputation as a ‘rough’ venue and I was a little nervous about the reactions I’d get from the audience. Not so much because of the size of my cock, (I still had no appreciation of the reactions it would create amongst females), but more from being nude in a ‘textile’ environment.
As the music blared out and I got my hypnotic cue to start my strip, the audience began to clap with encouragement, not realising that a full strip was going to happen. As I got down to my jocks, women in the audience began to wildly scream and shout for me to ‘get it off’.
When I finally dropped my jocks after a little teasing, the crowd went wild. I could hear the room erupt with wolf whistles, laughter and cheering. I just kept on innocently dancing as my cock and balls bounced in tune with the music.
Finally, Gregory snapped his fingers to bring me out of the hypnotic trance and I feigned total embarrassment as I stood centre stage with my hands cupping my cock and balls.
I can still distinctly remember the sight of women in the front few rows of seats with their faces lit up with huge grins and their eyes streaming tears and totally transfixed on my groin, screaming and wetting themselves with laughter.
At that moment, something inside me snapped and as I caught the eyes of a few of these women I raised my hands in the air, wiggled my cock in their direction and laughed along with them. Gregory then quickly put a wrap around me and took me back to my seat as the room again erupted with laughter and whistles.
I could hear the ‘roar of the greasepaint’ ringing in my ears. A part of my psyche was being ‘awakened’.