Where I ran
Where I hid
It didn’t matter, you didn’t care
Where I ran
Where I hid
Lost forever in a woman’s stare

Runaway. M.S. 1988

Working back stage at the Midnight Oil gig was memorable because it’s where I first met the man known as Tucker Cannons, but the following morning was memorable for another reason. It was what happened that morning once we returned to Steve’s house that was the reason a guy like Tucker Cannons became clouded in my memory.

Like most days there was still people milling around, drunk, stoned or a mixture of both when we got back to Steve’s house at about the same time most of the rat race were jumping in their cars and heading to work. Magnum had the crowd under control, the music was low and could only be heard in the lounge room and it was one of the smaller crowds I’d seen at the house. I was completely drained, it had been along evening and a long morning, I’d stayed off the booze, thanks in a large part to Cannons, but mostly because of the booze we’d drunk the day before. Steve was in a similar place to me and when we arrived back at the house it was sack time for both of us.

I have no idea what time it was when I awoke, I wasn’t game to move. At first I thought I was still asleep and dreaming, thought that what I was feeling was the images of a tired and over active mind. Or maybe what I should say was the thoughts of a pubescent mind confused with what it had been witness to since being freed from the mental slavery that it had been shackled in for so long.

The morning, at least I think it was still morning because when I dared crack my eyes it did not appear that the afternoon sun was streaming through the cracks in my curtains, was warm and there was little need for a blanket, especially not when one sleeps in their clothes. The first thing I thought I felt was a hand rubbing my already standing to attention dick.

Like I remember telling you I’d seen movies at school and I had seen books, as well as seeing Brad and Daphne so, sex wasn’t entirely new to me neither was the feeling of a hand stroking me up and down. However up to that point the only hand that had ever done such a thing was on the end of my own arm, and I was fairly certain that it was not my hand doing the stroking at that time. I guess that was why I was wondering if I was asleep and dreaming.

By the time all doubt was removed and I knew I was definitely awake the hand was not the only thing wrapped around me. I could feel lips, they were sliding up and down just like the hand was and each time they were down I could feel the cool breath across my balls.

I was in a strange state of wonderment and bliss. What was happening felt good, it felt better than good but if I let whoever it was down there know I was awake would they stop doing it? I didn’t know so instead I lay there trying not to make a sound. I know how silly that sounds now, but remember what was happening was a first for me and some how I convinced myself that the pants, moans and whimpers that I’d heard myself do when I stroked down there weren’t happening as someone else did it.

I’m sure you know what happened from there, it’s not like it’s a new thing I was the only one experiencing, many had done it before me and many, including myself would do it after me, but you probably don’t need every detail. What I will say though is that after I was spent I must have fallen back asleep because I don’t remember anything more until I woke up with the afternoon sun streaming through the cracks in the curtains. Not only that I woke up with my pants unbuttoned and unzipped and my dick flopped against my crotch.

I shuffled in the bed trying to remember in my head what had happened, get the images back like I was going to be able to record them in my mind and save them for later, but they all seemed disjointed and they wouldn’t fit together properly. It wasn’t until I moved in the bed that I realised I wasn’t alone, there was someone in the bed beside me.

Before I even knew what was going on I was smothered from above. I didn’t know her name, I could barely make out her features, all I could smell was her perfume. As her lips mashed against mine her hand grabbed my dick. I had no idea if this was the same hand that was stroking me earlier in the day but as you can guess I didn’t care either.

I wasn’t much at kissing I don’t think, well I hadn’t done it before, and within a few second of the girl above me trying she stopped and told me to relax.

“I’ll do all the work.” she whispered in my ear.

And that was what she did. She took my pants and my underwear off, lifted her own skirt, apparently her underwear didn’t need removing, then she climbed on top of me, with her hand pushed my hard dick where she wanted it then slid downwards until our bodies were together. From that moment on I think I was a bit of a rag doll for her pleasure. Don’t get me wrong I bucked and thrust and jumped and I even managed to do that kissing thing where tongues darted into mouths, although I accept I may not have been good at it and I did it for what seemed like ages.

I realised after the first time that it was not ages that I went for but I didn’t let that cloud my judgement of my first performance. I also didn’t asked how my first performance was in case it wasn’t up to scratch or what the woman laying on top of me was expecting. I just lay there after the game with a woman on top of me wondering what to do next.

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