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Innocence Waning - 1. Chapter 1

Staring out the window after a session of vigorous masturbation is complete, I notice for the first time that the season has changed from summer to autumn. It wasn't just a memory evoked by the sound of the last bell at school that liberated our class of teenagers from our daily scholastic duties and associated mundane tasks that sounds in my head. The feeling of semen begins to run down my thigh, prompting me to clean up the mess that I made with my underwear as I acknowledge that time is on my side for a change. The last bell at school rang well over a week ago and it has provided a temporary feeling of freedom to enjoy 'school holidays' which are conveniently scheduled to align with Easter.

When I ponder the colloquial term 'Down Under' or what people usually outside of Australia refer to as the largest island in the world, I think about it in perspective whilst wiping my thigh. Australia is the size of the continental United States and it is daunting to think that it is an island. The city of Melbourne is referred to as the 'Paris of the Southern Hemisphere' and others refer to it as 'The Sporting Capital of the World' whereas I just think of it as a city that gets cold in the winter and very hot in the summer where there is always good coffee being sold somewhere. When I noticed the leaves starting to change colour earlier in the week, I could still be comfortable wearing a pair of shorts with a hoodie outside and it was then that I realised just how much I enjoy this time of the year living in Melbourne.

Whilst on school holidays I enjoy an additional aspect of freedom as my father considers himself too important to take any time off from work. He has to run a company and boss around people who mainly reside overseas. This 'offshore labour' gets paid in the day what it costs me to buy a coffee and a Big Mac. It is quite common for the parents of my peers to take the school holidays off to spend it with their kids and because of this, the traffic congestion eases in this major city and even the rabble that 'rally' or should I say protest about the government take a break. Every true-blue Aussie seems to take a holiday at their residences in their lounges. Sitting in front of the television watching the football, shouting and screaming at the various players as the sun sets and the day turns into the night is one of our national pastimes. I don't mind the football but I don't obsess about it like some of my mates do and we certainly never have a quiet night in watching it with so many other things to do virtually on our doorstep. One girl that I know of became infamous as she was ejected from the footy at the Melbourne Cricket Ground for shouting racial abuse at an aboriginal player called Adam Goodes. Much like how my father enjoys providing expert commentary on the sport and how he demeans the Chinese that he must remotely work with by using various colourful names and slurs, I decided that there is a little bit of racist in us all and because of this, watching the sport is interesting. We just don't watch it together as a family.

In the distance behind my closed bedroom door, I hear my father shouting something presumably into his phone followed by the front door slamming a minute later. The morning disturbance encourages me to get my naked body up from the bed. The sun is shining and there must be something to amuse me besides the antics of my friends or wasting time to look at silly photos of cats along with the melodrama of Facebook having just jacked off. I haven't done any physical exercise for a few weeks since we were forced to participate in an athletics carnival at school. I feel sloth-like as I wander around my room scratching my stomach and yawning. The advantage of going to an athletics carnival though is there is not much to do besides check out your peers, talk shit and send photos via Instagram every other minute. Since I am rather competitive, I take these events very seriously and want to run faster than the others. Talking shit and giving a shit are not mutually exclusive when it comes to me. Rather than waste yet another day of my holiday from high school and feeling motivated after thinking about the last athletics carnival, I put on my black Nike trainers after donning some gym gear and decide to go for a run. At first, I was thinking that I was losing my mind as nobody that is sixteen years old wants to do anything active or productive at 7:30 AM during school holidays. I know that I am a bit different though.

Although it is cold outside, I decide not to wear a hoodie since I get hot very easily and jog towards the footpath that leads me first behind the Crown Casino in Southbank and then on to the pedestrian trail that is shared with cyclists which I follow to Beacon Cove at Port Melbourne. My jog turns into a run, and I easily finish the four kilometres stretch quickly. I call into the café opposite the pier where the Spirit of Tasmania vessel is docked and order a much-needed coffee and wipe the sweat from my brow on my shirt as I wait for a mug of coffee to be brought to me. Sloth again starts to overcome me as I sit back and watch the tourists disembark from the boat that just arrived from Tasmania. I casually check my phone for new tweets and text messages and not finding any so early in the morning I realise that I really shouldn't care about what is going on in my digital world and that I should just live in the moment. No music, ringtones or even vibration is wanted and I put the phone into flight mode. After drinking the coffee and doing a cursory scan of a newspaper that someone kindly left behind, I decide to run another stretch of Port Philip bay which takes me along a beach and then finally to Westgate Park. The park has a private go-kart racing track, a saltwater lake and a curiously a freshwater lake and seems to be the home for many birds and diverse wildlife. As it hasn't rained in a few weeks, I thought I would continue my journey through the park if the dirt tracks would not be muddy and I wouldn't ruin my shoes. I notice the public toilet and decide it would be best to use it after drinking my large coffee, so I venture inside.

Urinating is just part of life. It isn't until I complete the mundane task and after putting my cock back into my sweaty black cotton Bonds underwear that I notice another guy looking at me and playing with his dick whilst standing at the trough. He certainly displays no intention of taking a leak as his engorged penis is in his hand. Probably because I am going about my business dutifully with the intention to use the facilities for what they were designed for, I didn't even notice this other gentleman earlier. I feel my blood pressure rising as I realise that he is getting off whilst looking at me.

I feel like time has stopped. His cock is just a few metres from my hand and along with my body is seemingly frozen and in a state of shock but awe. I watch him move the foreskin on his cock up and down exposing the big pink mushroom head. "Want me to suck you?" My admirer whispers to me in the public facility as he continues to caress his boner but now with more rigour.

I can only make a guttural sound which probably emulates something like the wildlife that calls the park home would make. Freeing myself from the wrinkle of time, I quickly retreat through the door and into the sunshine. I start to run towards the direction of the Westgate bridge at the opposite end of the park. I stop once just to look to see if the stranger from the toilet block is following me and feel a bit disappointed when I discover that he is not. I put my headphones in my ears and play the debut album by 5 Seconds of Summer hoping that the music will drown out the lurid thoughts in my head. I continue to run and wonder what it would have felt like getting my penis sucked. The thought of jerking off the stranger and imagining him cumming on the floor gets me aroused. I force myself to think about old politicians, ISIS and other ridiculous and horrible images to expel the lurid thoughts from my mind which then tames my erection after a long and painful few second. I continue to run like I am possessed by an entity and after regaining control of my body, I sprint back the way I came from however at my fastest speed despite fatigue starting to overcome me. I want to get back to the toilet block and see the random man again and more importantly touch his big dick. When I make my grand entrance back into the public restroom, I am gutted when I see nobody there.

Feeling both physically and emotionally drained, I retreat back into the sunshine again and away from the smell of bleach and piss and sit on a bench. I whip out my phone and take it off of flight mode only to be greeted with numerous messages seconds later. Queries about hanging out, going to see a movie or something - anything in general flow in at the early hour as the rays of the sun strike my face. All the usual mundane questions but in TXTspeak. Nobody ever sends a message saying 'Want to do me?' or 'Come and fuck my tight hole senseless' which is disappointing. Filthy thoughts return that is fuelled by my over-active imagination and also a sense of regret for deciding to run away from my first sexual experience only minutes ago. I am pulled back into reality reluctantly though when the phone begins to vibrate announcing that a caller with a "Private Number" wants my attention.

"Hi, this is Chezdon."


I repeat "Hi, this is Chezdon" and provide added emphasis when saying my proper name.

More silence. I end the call and start to jog slowly back towards home.

Copyright © 2018 chezdon1997; All Rights Reserved.
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To be fair to Chezdon's father, there are more weeks of school holidays during the year than most people can take time off work. We usually only took one of the three term break holidays as part of our annual leave and worked the other two. Of course, we don't own a business, which means we have less flexibility, but even most business owners can't afford to take time off every school holidays.


An interesting start. Sadly, I've had similar experiences in some public toilets in Melbourne. Not many, but I have seen someone lurking like that guy more than once.

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That is a fair point. From the perspective though of a 16-year-old, it is rather frustrating but he would never admit that he actually wants to spend time with his father. The lifestyle isn't cheap either so at least there is some perspective.


I think everyone has had an experience like that in a Melbourne bathroom. As this book is a work of fiction, it is inspired by autobiographical events. I used to walk/run down the path from Southbank (where the old red dining Trolley picks up people) to the bay. Normally I would go left towards St Kilda Pier, but I couldn't help be intrigued by what I would see in the scrub, the beach and also the dodgy toilet in Westgate Park. All observations that I have made which inspired this book to be written.

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Interesting start to your book Chezdon, I just visited your blog page and found out you have intentions of releasing a book. I hope it all goes well for you and when I free up my writing schedule and reading list I would definitely give your book a go. I can understand the need for personal space; in a world where we are practically overstimulated, something as simple as a phone can become irritating when all you want is to walk/jog in the local park to free you're mind. I wrote a story a while back about a sixteen-year-old prostituting himself and this story reminded me of how innocent some people maybe and how easily something like this can happen. Anyway, keep up the awesome work.

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This is a mellow beginning with interesting imagery and a tactile sense of detail — not too much, but enough to pull me into the atmosphere of the story. Australia has always been very fascinating to me. Thanks for posting this chapter @chezdon1997. Looking forward to many others.

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