In the 1950s in St. Kilda, Melbourne’s beach-side, playground suburb, several so-called Continental Clubs had opened up. They added to St. Kilda’s nightlife a touch of central European ambience, quite different from the still British-colonial evening entertainments in the rest of Melbourne. The founders of these clubs had migrated to Australia in the post-war years. Some had come under the 120,000 Displaced Persons’ intake between 1947 and 1950; others had arrived under the Australian government's migration agreements with Germany, the Netherlands, and Austria.
Among the Austrians and Germans, it attracted many young men and some single women, then in their mid-twenties. After the turmoil of war and defeat, most of them had not found their place in the harsh post-war world of their countries. Quite a few of them were ethnic-Germans that had fled from the eastern parts of Europe in 1945. For many of them, the West had offered no ready refuge and acceptance. They were, therefore, willing to try a new life overseas. The opportunity to come to Australia at the cost of only ten pounds made it a more attractive destination than Canada.
Both August and Martin were such Ten Pound New Australians. They had met as tenants in one of St.Kilda’s rooming houses.
August was a nuggetty, no-nonsense Berliner, hard-working and holding down a well-paid, responsible job at Dunlop Tyres. Conscripted in 1944 at seventeen into Hitler’s army, he survived the final six months of retreat on the Russian front to return to a city in ruins and no home or family. His parents had been killed in an air-raid.
August arrived in Australia in 1951, found work, settled down, and, with some fellow Germans, got involved in starting the German Club in Barkly Street.
Martin had just turned twenty-one. An Austrian, he came from settled family background, had some secondary schooling, and completed an apprenticeship. In 1956, restlessness, the low Austrian wages, and an unhappy ending to his first love made him sign the immigration contract to come to Australia to stay and work for a minimum of two years.
Martin, slim, six-foot-two, and promising to become a strikingly handsome man, was by nature quiet without being shy. Although so much younger in years and experience, August liked his company. They began to go to August’s German Club together often.
On this Saturday night, the Club was already busy. However, August managed to get a little table for them some distance from the dance floor. Then he wandered off to talk to some friends. To Martin’s surprise, August returned accompanied by two women. He quickly organised two additional chairs. With the four of them sitting close together, intimacy promptly developed. August already knew one of the women, a German nurse, from earlier years.
She and her work colleague had come to town for a day of shopping and going to the pictures. In the evening, they had decided to drop in at the German Club for a brief visit. They had to catch the last bus to return to the Mental Hospital twenty miles out of town, where they were in residence as nurses.
Both women were attractive. They were confidently at ease in their bodies but with no girlish softness left in their faces. In age, they were closer to August’s thirty-plus than to Martin’s twenty-two. On his own, even if he had been attracted as he was becoming now, he would have been too intimidated to approach them.
They were, however, lively company and talked freely about their lives and experiences. One, August’s acquaintance, had grown up in Danzig. Fleeing from the Russians, she found no fitting home in post-war West Germany and had come, like August, to Australia in 1951. The other woman, her name was Hilde, came from Stuttgart. She had arrived two years later.
Both worked as nurses in Sunbury’s Mental Asylum. At the time, the Department of Immigration directed many non-British migrant women to staff Australia’s mental institutions and TB sanatoriums. They made up for the shortage of Australian nurses. These were deemed too precious to work in such institutions' often unsavoury and dangerous conditions.
Huddled together, the four shared quite a few drinks of brandy, hidden in coffee cups. Although unlicensed, alcohol was more freely available in the German Club than in the nearby Austrian Ski Club. There the police appeared often, going from table to table, lifting and sniffing coffee cups in search of forbidden whiffs. The Germans had obviously reached some agreement with the constabulary, and their whiff-sniffers raided only rarely and never unannounced.
Anyway, with lively talk, flirting, and repeated exchanges of furtive touching, August, Martin and the two women had a more and more sexily animated time. When the women made a move to leave, August easily persuaded them to stay. He promised to drive them home, all the long way to Sunbury. They readily agreed.
The four had quite naturally paired off by then: August with his old acquaintance and Martin partnering Hilde. She, like Martin, loved to dance. And Hilde, shapely slim and almost as tall as him, felt warm and promising in his arms as she led Martin gradually into dancing cheek-to-cheek and, eventually, closer than just heart-to-heart.
With August driving, his flame for the night slid quickly into the front seat. Martin and Hilde – she was merry and giggling in unvoiced expectation – struggled onto the backbench of the Volkswagen. As soon as they were seated, Hilde wedged her shapely bottom as close onto Martin as she could get. Then, her arm snuck across Martin’s neck, and she pulled him into a much promising kiss even before August could start the engine. By the time the VW pulled away from the kerb, Martin was hers.
Hilde was a shameless kisser. Her brandy-rich tongue dove into the depth of Martin’s mouth, engaging his in a sensual dance. When Martin’s hand moved shyly onto her breasts, she hurriedly opened her jacket to let an enticing boob swell into his grip.
Releasing Martin’s mouth after what seemed long minutes of the most brazenly naughty kissing he had known, Hilde’s lips shifted to his ear. The VW engine behind their back was loud, but Martin could feel her heavy breathing. Then she whispered: -
“I’m so glad we met. I like naughty boys that love and know how to kiss a woman!”
Then came her afterthought.
“So many men don’t!”
She had clearly decided that Martin was to be her naughty boy for tonight. And he, for a moment, had to weigh up the lure of her naughtiness against the humiliation of the pecking order she assumed.
Martin was not prepared to submit too meekly. He was pushing her hard against the backrest, with one hand cupping a breast and the other on her neck. Hilde’s lips opened hungrily, waiting for his. When her tongue temptingly flicked into his mouth, Martin sucked it in hard and deep, with his teeth threatening a bite. She quickly joined in this game, pretending to fight her tongue’s capture with throaty moans. But then, when breaking momentarily free, Hilde rushed anew into an even wilder and sexier kiss.
This tempestuous kissing brought them quickly into an undeniable and potentially embarrassing state of arousal. They were, after all, in a cramped and shared car visible under glass, being driven through a brightly lit-up city. And Hilde had almost unbuttoned her blouse as they kissed, which encouraged Martin to free her breasts from the constraint of the bra. There was no protest. As she twisted in and pressed her bared tits into his – at first – tentative grasp, she moaned a throaty, “Yes! Yes! Touch me!” into his mouth.
Glancing down, Martin saw that her skirt had slipped up on her thighs. She saw him looking. When he reached for her knee, her thighs unhesitatingly parted, inviting his hand to glide up the velvety inside of her unstockinged thigh.
Bringing her hot breath and a tickling flick of the tongue to Martin’s ear, she whispered, “God, you are a naughty boy. You are not going to stop, are you?”
By then, Martin’s hand had closed over Hilda’s warm fleshy mound, and soon one of his fingers slipped under her panties into a hot, wet welcome. She greeted it with a drawn-out “Yes” before her lips fastened on Martin. The wild dance of her tongue, after she rammed it deep into his mouth, let Martin know what her pussy wanted.
When the car stopped at a traffic light, Hilde dived down sideways, out of sight from possible lookers-in. She had gripped Martin’s wrist to hold his finger captive in her hot, so temptingly grinding cunt.
When August pulled away from the lights, Hilde scrambled up to continue their mad kissing. At the next stop at lights, she again dived down, gripping Martin’s wrist. When the car started to pull away, Hilde sat up, lifting her ass. As she pushed down, three of Martin’s fingers, down to the palm, pressed into Hilde’s hot-gripping cunt. For a moment, Martin was shocked. He had never imagined that a woman’s tight pussy wanted to or should be pleasured like this. But now, Hilde rocked on his stretched, clawing fingers. She was no longer kissing. Her mouth was on his neck, as she whimpered and moaned louder, Martin feared, than the VW’s engine staccato hammering. He was sure that August and his partner would hear.
At the next stop at traffic lights – it was a busy, brightly lit city intersection – Hilde, in the ecstasy of her ride, stayed momentarily upright. Then, realising that she was in full view of everybody near the car, she threw herself sideways. In curling up, Hilde’s ass twisted and jerked against Martin’s hand, wedged against his thigh. As the light turned green, the noise of the revving up engine covered her scream as she convulsed, shaking and squirming, in the grip of orgasm.
After a long while, lying on the seat recovering her poise, Hilde sat up. She turned her head to Martin, and he kissed her gently.