I met Frances Bueno, (Siss) at the St Joseph's learn-to-dance at about the time I was getting too old to continue dancing there. At 18 I was one of the older ones and was beginning to dance elsewhere as well. There were 2 occasions during my time with Frances that I could have made more progress in my social life. Once she told me she was at home 'all on my lonesome'. In a round-about way, I was invited to visit her at home with her parents absent. I was vaguely aware of her invitation, but unaware how to respond.
The other one was during one of our necking sessions, I accidentally rubbed her tit. I apologised profusely, and she said 'That's OK'. Years later, I read that to mean 'You can do that again if you like'.
Siss and I went to Willetts, a dance hall in Prahran. We would go back to her place in Gardenvale and I'd take 30 or 40 minutes pashing to say good night at her front gate.
I used to hitch-hike home from her place every week, about 10 miles total, (16 kilometres) along Hawthorn Road and Glenferrie Road to White Horse Road, then east to Union Road, Balwyn.
I was picked up, and given a lift by the same driver more than once.
I always enjoyed the different cars and talked to the drivers about their cars all the time. There were mostly English and American cars around at that time in the early 60s. There were Austins and Morrises, Hillmans and once, an English Ford Pilot V8, stopped. Also Valiants, Ford Falcons, Volkswagens, Holdens, Chevs, a Buick once whose driver told me it had a straight 8 motor, a Ford Mercury and Chryslers. I loved the American cars for their power and ostentation. My favourites were the Ford V8s.
Drivers of other European cars rarely stopped and gave me a ride.
I didn't resent drivers ignoring me. I was grateful to be given a free ride at any time, as transport was free by courtesy of others' generosity.
A man in a Wolseley stopped for me and I asked him about his car. I forget the details but I don't think he knew very much about it. He had a deep voice and seemed to speak smoothly as a confident person would.
He asked me about my clothes. I wondered about his interest in fabric as he felt the material of my trousers.
He dropped me off about half way home and I hitched another ride home.
A few weeks later a Wolseley stopped again and the usual greetings and comparisons of destinations were worked out as I climbed in and he drove on. There was something familiar about him and I asked had he picked me up before. He said he hadn't but I was sure he had. I told him his voice sounded similar to another Wolseley driver and that I thought it was him.
When he asked about my clothes, I was almost certain. He began feeling my pants again. That confirmed it.
I said, 'Last time I was in a Wolseley, the man asked about my pants too.' I think he was self conscious and a bit embarrassed about having the same conversation 2 times.
He admitted, 'I remember now. You're right. I have picked you up before.'
I started to wonder why he was interested in my pants. At age 18, I was very naΓ―ve and just accepted it as something I didn't know about grown-ups.
He offered to drive me further than usual and we turned into the road leading to my suburb about 6 miles away. After driving for a few miles I kept asking him if he was going too far out of his way and he said he didn't mind.
He asked about the fabric in my pants again and I answered, 'I don't know much about it.'
I think he mentioned something about Gaberdine as he reached over and felt my leg. I thought his hand was too close to the top of my leg. He kept his hand there and even moved it higher while he was driving. Then his little finger was touching one of my balls. It seemed her was more interested in touching me than the fabric of my clothes.
I thought he was being far too familiar. I was shocked and embarrassed, but he was generously giving me a ride and probably going out of his way. He kept his hand on the top of my leg until he needed to change gears.
I moved away as far as I could and jammed my legs together, and after sitting like that for a while I began to feel ridiculous, so I relaxed and resumed a more normal position on the passenger seat.
After another mile, he reached for me again and was touching my fly buttons. I was unable to find the right thing to say to stop him. He wasn't being rough, but he was insistent. He tried to get his hand on me so I moved my leg to give him space for his hand so he wouldn't touch my dick.
He kept asking me where to drive and I started to think he wanted to do things to me. I didn't want anyone to know what was happening, so I directed him up to the end of the wrong street. He stopped the car when he had driven as far as he could.
I said 'Thanks for the ride. I can walk home from here.'
He said 'Where do you live?'
I said, 'I just walk down the lane to my place.'
He said, 'Let me feel that fabric. I want to see how it was weaved.' He sounded very friendly and interested.
He had driven me almost all the way home and I didn't know how I could say 'NO' to him when he went out of his way for me, but I felt very uncomfortable.
He felt my leg again and he started touching my dick really softly. Even though I liked girls I was getting aroused. I felt very ashamed of myself. I was very embarrassed to be getting aroused when a man was touching me. I could feel my penis starting to swell up.
'Let me undo your pants for a minute.'
I wished I could think of something to say to stop him. When he undid my fly buttons, he put his hand inside my pants and started feeling for my penis. I wondered how unusual it must be for someone who you don't even know to put their hand inside someone else's clothes and get a hold of their dick.