It was a warm Spring afternoon in 1988, a fresh southerly breeze was making the long latte coloured grasses sway in the sunlight. I was thirteen, had just walked up from the river, showered and put on my “good” clothes in anticipation of the dinner later, organised for the small community of 7 households in the remote property, surrounded by silent sandstone cliffs.

A friend of the family, a 17 year old, disengaged from a joyful, jocular conversation with a wise, female member dressed in plain clothes, and joined me in the narrow tract of land next to the home paddock. He and I exchanged a quiet greeting, he asked me how the swim in the river was. I smiled, replied “It went well—“

Suddenly I felt a chill sweep across me, like the wind you feel before a storm in this balmy country. I felt nervous, my heart started to beat faster. The friend, Don, reminded me that the 1980s would be over soon, asked me what would I like to do in the 1990s, beyond, with my life. I couldn’t hear much of what else he was saying. Words, caught on the wind. A male voice and a female voice. Arguing? No, there were giggles, quips. 

Suddenly, my chest tightened and I felt a frog in my throat. One of the voices belonged to a strapping young man, who ran out of the wood-burning sauna behind the hall or shed where dinner was to be served soon. His dark hair on his head was surmounted by a dark brown fringe, that swept to one side, as he ran naked out of the steam room. His tanned muscles rippled as he ran: “Oh, that’s not fair!” He shouted in a tenor voice filled with mirth and irony. As I gazed from his head, his muscled chest, naked taught belly, I saw his nude and coincidentally, uncircumcised penis, with a thick bush above it, it bounced as his run slowed to a stride, his equally muscled legs, finding themselves meet the chip-bark strewn ground in lithe feet, that perfectly absorbed and slowed his momentum to a stop, he turned like an Ancient Greek athlete, then placed his hands on his hips. This forced my eyes to focus on his smooth buttocks, also a deep mahogany colour from years spent swimming in the nude. It was at this point I noticed that my penis was reacting, swelling in my shorts and underwear, making me sweat. He was so beautiful. 

Then the other person rejoined in this play of banter. A figure about the same height, her somewhat unruly black bob haircut offset her homely face with dark locks and a glint of the evening’s light lit in her beautiful, mischievous eyes. She emerged from the sauna, enveloped in a thin plume of steam. She had astonishingly delightful hourglass curves, strode out of the small room, sweat running down her flanks, her full breasts, her shapely, muscled legs. “The world and its technology is changing”, Don’s voice snaked through, as if caught by the wind and he was many yards away. A sharp giggle emitted from the woman’s mouth, heard as if I was standing so close to her, I could touch her body as warm as bread from an oven, her lips entirely kissable: “It’s perfectly fair, dear brother!”, she retorted.

Her steps quickened like Salomé dancing, skipped around him. My god, I thought, her figure was divine and her full black bush between her tanned thighs made my mouth dry, want to beg for water or even be tempted to drink from one of the muddy dams around these parts. “It’s perfectly fair, dear brother!”, was her rejoinder, as she drew her right arm back, and like lightening, stuck her closed fist out, then jerked it back towards her hips, in such a fast motion, a small brown flannel darted from her hand and whipped her brother’s bare butt, making him wince with a sharp intake of breath then call out with a sharp cry or whelp of pain. “That *really* hurt!” He cried, but effected a fake whimper. I wanted to hold him, cuddle him, kiss his mouth, his cheeks, his eyelids. I wanted to tell her off in soft tones, then kiss her lips kiss her breasts, her nipples and even that strange slit, somehow glistening between her bush in the last rosey heat of the setting sun…

“Have you heard a word I’ve been saying, Peter?”, remarked Don, a twinge of indignation in his voice, as he realised I might just as well be on another planet. “No, obviously not.” He glanced down at the sight of my recognisable erection, making my chestnut shorts tent with my penis propping it up. “Oh, so you had more important things on your mind, yes? Her melons?” Silence. My face began to turn a peach colour. “You liked the look of her, didn’t you, my young friend?” More silence. “You liked the look of him?”, he muttered with a noticeable sense of apprehension. I wished I could melt into a puddle, I was so embarrassed! “You liked both of them, um, I mean the way they both looked?” I couldn’t speak, like some unseen force had my throat in their hands. I nodded twice. “Ahhh.” He chucked. “That’s very unusual. I find that curious as a scientist and as a friend”, he spoke freely, at last and with relief. “Let’s not speak to anyone about this”, said the man who would later grow up to become a child psychologist. I composed myself, as the nude couple fell about in fits of laughter, but soon sobered a little, withdrew into a nearby corrugated iron clad building to shower. All I could deduce by their banter was that he had decided to beat her to the shower first.