My name is Peter and I teach Political Science and Economics to senior high school students who have more money and technology than some Third World countries. It is hard to explain to them about Capitalism or Communism while they are texting their friends about old "Professor Pete".

Recently I was drinking with a friend who is a journalist for our major daily paper and he got me to write a few pieces about the upcoming APEC conference to use as fillers in the paper. The whole city was in confusion as to why all these world leaders were coming to Sydney so I tried to explain it to them in simple language that could digest on their morning train trip to work.

I was at home watching coverage of the APEC conference on TV when I saw her standing in the background. It doesn't matter how many years go past you never forget your first lover. My heart skipped a beat and I peered at the TV to see if I could see her again. I could not believe my ageing eyes and was yelling at the TV (like idiots do) to pan across to the other side where she had been standing. Damm they cut to an add break.

I grabbed my phone and rang my friend I gave him as much information as I thought prudent (I didn't mention sex) and he said he would make some calls and see what he could to about getting in touch with Margaret. So I sat back and waited for his call, my mind drifting back through the years.

It was 30 years ago and the late seventies when the sexual revolution of the Summer of Love was fading away but the scare of AIDS hadn't dampened our sexual enthusiasm. I was in senior high and just an average student with no idea of what I wanted to be in life. One of my teachers had sent me to the school office to collect some papers he had forgotten and while I stood and waited for the secretary to get off the phone I looked at all the junk flyers stuck on the school notice board.

One flyer stuck behind a few others caught my eye due to the bright colour paper it was printed on. It was an application to partake in a student exchange program. It didn't specify any particular grade or course it just asked for volunteers. Three months in a foreign country sounded easy to handle so along with all the other papers I had to collect I took the flyer to prevent anyone else putting up their hand.

I was the third of six children in my family and with two older brothers I didn't think I'd be missed for three months. I slipped the application in with some other school stuff mum needed to sign and then spent the next few weeks mentioning it in general terms so when I finally received an acceptance mum believed we had discussed it and she had agreed so she and dad were happy for me to go.

After a nice flight across the Pacific, where all the hosties looked after me because I was a schoolboy travelling on his own, I was met by a man from the Education department who helped me with all the paperwork, currency exchange and who took me across town to the bus station. As soon as I was on the bus the guy waved and left so I was alone for the trip to my new home. When it came time to leave the bus would not start so we all got off and were told it would be about an hour before another bus could be arranged so everyone wandered off to find a cafe or a phone.

I went looking for bookstore or a newsstand to buy some magazines. About a block from the bus station I found what was little more than hole in the wall. It looked like the smallest shop I had ever seen. Little more than a counter and a door from the street, it went back into the surrounding building about ten paces. It was dark and gloomy and the magazines were hard to see. The old guy at the counter paid me no attention even when I spotted the girlie/porno mags. I flicked through a couple, which I wouldn't have done back at home, and still no one was telling me to get out. I checked my watch and realised my hour was nearly up so putting on a confident look I picked out three or four porno mags and went to the counter to pay. The old guy took the mags and my money, shoved the mags in a brown paper bag and the change in my hand and then I was outside waiting for someone to point at me and scream pervert.

The new bus arrived, packed and left pretty much straight away. I put the magazines in my backpack and settled back to enjoy the scenery. When we arrived at my stop it was dark and I could see maybe five or six people holding an Aussie flag and a sign saying "Peta"! I was confused and when I got off the bus my reception committee was even more confused to see an Aussie bloke.

A quick conference broke out with whispered comments and sideways glances in my direction. Finally they came over and introduced themselves, explained their confusion and checked my papers. It seems someone from my school had altered my application from Peter to Peta when my new school had asked for a faxed copy of my application due to coffee having been spilt on their copy from the Education dept.

Thinking they were getting a 17-year-old girl they had arranged for me to stay with a woman named Mary and her daughter Margaret, a 17-year-old student from my new school. Much discussion took place about a male staying with two females but at last Mary talked them around and I was finally allowed to go to their home and get some well-needed sleep. (Time zones, still cannot handle them).

Introductions all round once we arrived at their house. Mary was 37 and her husband had left her a few years back. She was maybe five two or three and had an athletic physique. Her jeans were moulded to her arse and legs and accentuated the curves. She was wearing a baggy school sweatshirt but I could see her nipples, which had hardened in the cold night air, pushing against the fabric.

Margaret was an almost identical version of her mother, different hairstyles and makeup was about the only difference I could make out. Having expected a girl they had put a second bed in her room but explained that they would move it in the morning. I told them I was happy just to be able to go to sleep.

They gave me the 50-cent tour of the house. It was an old house with lots of rooms and levels. Margaret told me it was the family home from way back when people had no TV and lots of kids. Now that it was only her and her Mom it would be good to have another voice around. Finally a shower and I hit the bed and was asleep before Margaret came in.

Next morning I woke very disoriented because the house was so quiet compared to my own home, which was a mad house, each morning with six kids and two adults trying to get dressed, have breakfast, use the bathroom and get out to school or work. I stepped into the hall and instantly smelled bacon so I followed my nose to the kitchen. Mary was just preparing a tray to bring up to my room. I wished I had waited. She was wearing a long t-shirt but I could clearly see the roundness of her breasts as they jiggled when she moved. Margaret has wearing what looked like a mans check flannel shirt. She was sitting up on the breakfast bar so I see her well formed and tanned legs swinging as we talked.

We sat and talked about our respective countries, we planned a few outings for me to experience the countryside, and discussed school. Breakfast finished we all went off t change into normal clothes. I grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and come to the downstairs bathroom to have a shower and change leaving Margaret her room. Fed and cleaned I felt almost normal. I proceeded to help move the bed into another room and get organised, the ladies were very happy to have someone with muscles around to help move anything heavy.

The next few days I played tourist and got the run down on the neighbourhood, the school, the shops and transport. The women were fantastic in making me feel at home and I became the local oddity with people coming by just to hear me say G'day or hear my Aussie accent. School was just as crazy as I dispelled myth after myth about life Downunder.

Everyone wanted to know if I had a kangaroo as a pet, had I seen a shark in the ocean and the difference in all the different football codes we play at home. Cricket stumped them but after a while I was treated as just another student.

My room was at the top of the stairs, across the hall was Margaret's, and to my right was a two door linen cupboard then the main bathroom. This one had an old, deep metal bath, showerhead over the bath, washbasin and toilet. Down stairs through the kitchen was another bathroom with just a shower stall, washbasin and toilet.

Probably being young and inexperienced in the ways of women I was becoming frustrated with the way Mary and Margaret flirted around me. I was as polite as possible seeing as I was a guest in their home. Even after several days I was still not used to sleeping in a different time zone my body woke me early. Not wanting to wake anyone else I took one of my porno magazines and headed for the downstairs bathroom to jerk off my frustrations.

As always when you are trying to be quiet I stepped on the squeaky floorboard at the top of the stairs. I stood still and held my breath trying to listen for any other sound. All remained quiet so I continued down stairs. As I mentioned earlier it was on old house and while some parts had been renovated over the years they still had old-fashioned doors with big doorknobs and keyholes. There were no keys in any locks that I had noticed and I did not even think about spying through them.

I stripped off and sat on the toilet seat, thumbing through the magazine as my dick grew harder and harder. Back home I had seen nudie, girlie magazines but this magazine was full on, hard-core. (well for the time). Women sucking dicks. Dicks in cunts and spunk all over their faces. Oh my gawd, pictures of girl on girl, I nearly shot my load and I had not even stroked myself yet. I turned the page with shaking hands not knowing what was coming next. I turned the magazine over and around not sure what I was looking at then it hit me the woman had a dick up her arse. Whoa, whoa I thought I needed to slow down this is too much to take in.