Thursday 14 September 2017

Sexual Naïvity At Fifteen

[Image description: a seated, strapping man in work-attire, named as Adam Fussell;
no photo credit nor © stated;
found at]

I have no idea who this handsome chap is, despite him being named as Adam Fussell. However, the image has made me recall a close-encounter in an Austrian country village's festival Bierhalle (beerhall).

It was 1980, I was fifteen - but looked older, seventeen or eighteen, due to facial features - and I was on my first-ever excursion outside of England, on a school-trip to Vienna and then Göstling-an-der-Ybbs for a few days in each. At said point I had fair communication in German, but still not fließend (fluent). I was bookish & arty & creative & dramatic and hated sports. At the all-boys school I attended, some labelled me a poof or gay; but I had no real idea what they meant. I liked boys as much as I liked girls, but in a completely asexual sense. Only the previous year, whilst queuing for class in the technical block, had fellow classmates P.J. and A.M. sufficiently described the mechanics of masturbation for me to work out what to do myself. So, the reader hopefully has a picture of a sexually naïf chap who appeared older than his actual age.

The tradition in a Bierhalle is for newcomers to fill up the spaces at already taken tables before taking an empty table. My fellow school-mates & I occupied most of two tables, but there was an empty place beside me. I had already attained my maximum adult height of 172 cm. (In the 1990s onwards, after years of yoga, I was and am now 174 cm due to better posture.) So when I say this huge fellow came over and sat beside me, one can gather he had something of the giant in him. He even towered over Jewy, the biggest lad in our group. He was clad in traditional Lederhosen, work-boots and a white cotton shirt opened at the neck. Hatless, one could see his blond straight hair was already thinning, poor chap. But he had friendly, blue, coruscating orbs. Everything about him appeared on the very large side, from feet to hands to head. His skin was fair but had the healthy complexion of one who labours outdoors. His nose, his nape and at least the visible "v" of his upper chest were all tanned where his hat had not offered shade.

I practised my German small-talk; but I cannot now recall his name let alone what we chatted about. We all dined on Wurst & Semmeln (sausage & bread-rolls) or fresh chicken, I drank Wein (wine) along with some other companions whilst others quaffed the offered Bier (beer). The local lad supped from his Bierkrug or Maß (tankard), at a much faster pace than any of us. His complexion became more and more roseate and eventually inclining to crimson.

Obviously from time to time one takes a visit to do one's ablutions and the Austrian chap decided to pursue me. Only I had no idea at the time that he was doing so. His flashing of his member was in hindsight an
obvious come-on; but innocent of sexual mores I mistook it, as he had seen mine whilst I was urinating, as a quid pro quo - I'll show you mine because I've seen yours - and excused it as drunken lack of co-ordination and decorum.

Still later, as some of my peers liked a smoke, we went outside - away from the prying eyes of our teachers - for some fresh air. As my fellows were returning to their beverages, the local youth appeared beside me and all good-naturedly engaged me in chit-chat. He was attempting to get me to go off with him - thank the Maker I did not understand the ramifications of this! However, he had become quite physical and had me in a locked embrace (hug hold), in which I felt decidedly uncomfortable. At the time, I hated being touched by anyone - so the reader can imagine how appalled I was to be hugged by a stranger!

Despite my protestations, he refused to release me. To my enduring gratitude at least three of my classmates including S.D. and G.J. (and I think A.Y.?) came to my rescue. They certainly untangled me from his limbs and ensured I was protected henceforth. I think, I know, that was one of the very few times in my life I ever felt truly protected. (I had an awful home life, so there was certainly no protection there.) To this day, I still view Jewy as a bit of a hero. 

[NB. Names have been disguised to avoid causing any embarrassment.]


[The interior of a Bierhalle in Munich]

No comments:

Post a Comment