The Three Signs - Book 1 - Cathy
Chapter 1: Cathy
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Teenagers, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Fiction, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Petting, Water Sports, Slow,
Desc: Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 1: Cathy - Ahh, Cathy Parsons. There is always something special about someone's first love; and if it is the first love for both people, then there's that joy of discovery, learning about love and sex, and the heartbreak that comes with the mistakes you will both make.
Don’t want your love anymore
Don’t want your kisses, that’s for sure
I die each time
I hear this sound:
“Here he comes. That’s Cathy’s clown.”
I’ve gotta stand tall
You know a man can’t crawl
But when he knows you’re tellin’ lies
And he hears them passing’ by
He’s not a man at all
Don’t want your love anymore
Don’t want your kisses, that’s for sure
I die each time
I hear this sound:
“Here he comes. That’s Cathy’s clown.”
Don & Phil Everly, 1960
Saturday Night, November 10, 1973
At the end of 1973 David and Cathy’s older sister, Dianne, was to get married. I was invited to the wedding, since I was a really good friend of the family, and I guess I was expected keep Cathy company. David was one of the ushers at the church, since he knew all of his family members. Cathy and I were the youngest there, since the wedding was in the evening kids had not been invited. I was expected to wear a jacket and tie; so I wore one of my father’s work suits. Cathy looked pretty good, too; she had this long dress, sort of low cut around her breasts, and she had put some makeup on. We sat together in the church, and when Dianne came down the aisle on her father’s arm, Cathy whispered to me “Doesn’t she look beautiful?”
“Yeah, she scrubs up pretty good, doesn’t she?” I answered. “But you are more beautiful than she is”.
I don’t know why I said that; I mean Cathy did look really beautiful, I think it was the first time I realised she was a young woman, not just a good friend. And she was truly beautiful. She was slim and almost as tall as I was, with natural blonde hair, cut straight at shoulder length. I am sure many of the other girls in our year envied her hair, and quite a few tried to emulate the blonde look with peroxide; but none succeeded.
But as soon as I said it, we both blushed, and Cathy said, “Oh, thank you, you look handsome too,” and held my hand. We held hands all through the service and at the part where Roger kissed Dianne she squeezed my hand tightly. Even when we walked out of the church, she didn’t let go of my hand. At the reception, we sat next to each other, and managed to sneak a glass or two of champagne each, even though we were both only fifteen – but we would be sixteen soon (but that was still too young to drink legally). When the dancing started, I said, “Come on, we should have a dance too”, and we held each other on the dance floor, trying not to tread on each other’s toes. It was pretty crowded, and we had to hold each other close, and I could feel her breasts pressing against me.
After a while, we decided to go outside for some fresh air. Back then, no one worried about “smoke free zones” or stuff like that, and it was getting a bit stuffy for us. The reception was at the local lawn bowling club, and we wandered outside on a large balcony overlooking the golf course, where we could hear the sounds of the ocean just a hundred metres or two away. “Dianne and Roger look so much in love, don’t you think?” Cathy asked me. She had taken my hand again, and was squeezing it tightly.
“Yes, I feel really happy for them,” I replied. Dianne was about 6 years older than us, and I hadn’t had much to do with her since she had been away at University studying to become a teacher.
“Do you really think I look more beautiful that she does?” Cathy asked me.
“Well, um, yeah, of course,” I said. I put an arm awkwardly around her waist, and said, “I think you look really pretty, Cathy.” She turned to face me, and looked up at me, and I kissed her on the lips. My first kiss! My lips felt all tingly, as if some strange sort of electricity was flowing through them.
“Oh, Will,” Cathy said, “I have wanted you to kiss me for a long time.” She hugged me tight, and we kissed again, this time, experimenting with parting our lips slightly. “Mmmm, that feels nice,” she said.
We kissed some more; two kids learning about the joys of kissing. Cathy said, “Jenny Adams reckons that kissing doesn’t count unless the two of you really use your tongues.”
Jenny Adams was the ... well, perhaps “slut” is too hard a word, but she had a bad reputation as the one girl in our year that had already slept with lots of guys. One of our friends christened her “the town bike”, because anyone could take a ride or “the door knob”, because ‘anyone can take a turn’.
“Yeah, she would know about all that, wouldn’t she,” I said sarcastically.
“Well,” Cathy said, “Jenny said that a guy should really use his tongue when he kisses - and not just a girl’s lips, but her breasts as well, and, you know, down there too.” Cathy went all red.
“Down where?” I said, pretending I didn’t know what she meant. Of course I did, I had an older cousin who had told me all about sexual things.
“You know, Will,” Cathy said, her face all red, “down there, between a girl’s legs. Jenny said that feels really fantastic, and well, ummm, you know.”
“Would you want me to do that, Cathy?” I asked.
“Well, not right now,” she said, “but ... maybe we could try that one day...” I could see her cheeks burning, and she looked down.
To put her out of her embarrassment, I kissed her - just on the mouth - but I did slide my tongue just inside her lips. She moved her tongue against mine, and we kissed like that for several minutes. We were starting to get really excited when off in the dark, we heard David’s voice calling us.
“Will! Cathy! Are you two out there?” he called. “Dianne and Roger are about to leave.”
We broke apart, and moved over to where David was. At least he had been looking in the other direction; not towards where we were.
“Here we are,” I said, “we were just getting some fresh air. It was too smoky in there for us.”
I hope he didn’t see us, but I wondered if he suspected anything. I mean, how do you tell your best mate that you have just been kissing and making out with his sister? There was some sort of unofficial rule; it being bad luck to go out with your mate’s sister.
We went back inside, and joined everybody else saying goodbye to the happy couple. There was still lots of cleaning up to be done, but since it was not much more than a mile back to Cathy’s place, I told her father that she was getting pretty tired, but I would walk her home if he agreed to that. He was more than happy for us to do that, mainly because I suspected he was more than a little tipsy, celebrating the marriage of his oldest child.
The two of us headed for Cathy’s place, a pretty easy walk along the main road, and by taking a short cut across the park, we would be there in about half an hour. We were probably about halfway there, when Cathy started to slow down. “Are you ok?” I asked.
“Yeah, just not use to walking in these shoes,” Cathy replied.
We continued a little further, but she seemed to be walking with her legs pressed together. “Are you sure you are all right?” I asked.
“I gotta pee, Will,” Cathy whispered to me, “I gotta pee real badly. It must have been that champagne or something, but I am really busting.”
“There isn’t much further to go,” I told her, “can you hold on for a bit?”
“No!” she said. “If I don’t go soon, I will burst!” She was standing there, legs crossed, with a worried look on her face. “I almost peed in my panties just then!”
“Okay,” I said, “the park is just up here a bit, the other side of the parking area. There are all the trees at the edge; you can go there behind a tree.”
“What do you mean, ‘go there behind a tree’?” she asked, now doubled over, pressing a hand to her groin. “I can’t pee like you guys can.”
“I don’t know, Cathy,” I said. I didn’t know much about how women peed. “Maybe you can just hold your dress up and pull your pants to one side or something.”
“How many hands do you think I have?” she said. “And I can’t get pee on this dress, it is just so new. Mum would kill me if I did.”
“Well, I can help you hold something,” I offered. “But let’s get over there and in the park, anyway. It is dark there, no one can see anything.”
“Yeah, I guess,” she said. “I can’t stay here, and I have to go really, really badly.”
We crossed over the parking lot, and got behind some trees. “Now, if I pull your dress right up, can you get your panties down or whatever?” I said.
“Ok,” she said, “wait a minute.” She bent down, and removed her panties. “Can you put these in your pocket or something?” I took her panties, and stuck them in my trouser pocket. “Now, help me hold my dress right up, so I don’t pee on it, and I will squat down.”
With a bit of fiddling around, I stood behind her, and held her dress up around her waist. As she bent down, she said “Keep your legs apart, I don’t want to get you. And don’t look at me, please.”
I sort of half squatted with her, my legs splayed wide apart, and as I looked down, I could see her legs spread wide and there was enough moonlight to see the soft downy hair starting to cover her pussy. “Is everything clear?” she asked.
“Yes, I have all of your dress up here out of the way,” I said.
No sooner had I said that than I heard this loud hissing noise. Looking down, I saw a gleaming stream of pee shooting forward from her groin, all silver in the moonlight. She really must have been busting, because as she started to piss, she let out a deep sigh of relief, “Ohhh, I really needed to do that. Mmmm, that is much better.” She pissed for at least a minute, a solid stream of piss, and all the time I could hear that hissing noise. I guess it was the noise her pee made as it sprayed out of her. Finally, she finished peeing, the steady stream of piss ending in a few spurts.
“I don’t suppose you have a tissue, do you?” she asked.
“Sorry, no, I don’t,” I said.
“Oh well, I won’t put my panties back on, they will only get all damp,” she said. “Thank you for that Will, and look, I’m really sorry about all that, but I was so desperate. I really should have gone before we left the reception, but I didn’t realise.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, comforting her, “you couldn’t help it. When you gotta go, you gotta go. Now let me help you up.”
I helped her stand up, brushing her dress down as she stood. I slowly turned her around, and said, “Besides, it gives us a chance to kiss some more.”
Our lips locked again, and she pressed her body to mine. I could feel her breasts pressing against my chest, her nipples hard and erect. She had one hand behind my head, the other on the small of my back. I ran my fingers through her hair with one hand, while my other hand rubbed around her back, every so often drifting down to her buttocks. She started to grind her hips against me, and I could feel her groin start to rub against my rapidly swelling prick.
“This may be moving too fast,” I thought to myself after a while.
“I think I should really get you home, Cathy,” I said, breaking our kiss. It is getting a bit late, and I would hate for us to get in trouble.”
“I guess so, Will,” she said, “Although I love doing this.” We walked the remaining half a mile, our arms around each other. At her gate, she said, “Don’t worry about coming inside, Will, you have to get back to your place, and I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“OK Cathy,” I said, “I ... I love you, you know.” I had never said that to her before, but it seemed to express how I felt for her. Just as well it was dark where we were; my cheeks were burning.
“I know Will,” she replied, “I love you too.”
We kissed again, and I turned around to walk home. Every few metres, I would look over my shoulder, and she was there, waiting for me. Eventually, I turned the corner, and she walked inside. I jogged the mile back to my place, and as I got home, my parents were still awake. “How did it go, Son,” my father asked.
“Pretty well,” I answered, “they were still going strong when I left to walk Cathy home. I guess there will be quite a few headaches in the morning!”
“I am sure,” my mother replied. “That was good of you to walk Cathy home. Sleep well.”
As I undressed, I realised I still had Cathy’s panties in my pocket. I examined them closely; they were a high cut white pair, no little flowers or girly stuff on them. As I felt them, the crotch was still damp; she must have peed a little in them. I felt guilty, but I sniffed the damp cotton. It had this lovely musky smell - not at all like I thought pee would have smelled like. “Maybe she was also getting aroused,” I thought. My cousin had told me about when women get aroused, their pussies start to get all wet and slippery, and their cunt makes all this wet slippery stuff, so your prick can slide into them. I hung my clothes up, and stuck her panties behind my bookcase. I had better give them to her tomorrow. I had lovely dreams of kissing her, and seeing her pee, and feeling her wet pussy.
Returning Her Panties
Monday Morning, November 12, 1973
The next day was a Sunday, so I went to the youth fellowship at Church like I did most Sundays. David and Cathy were there, and Cathy smiled at me, and we sat next to each other. When the opportunity arose, I whispered to Cathy, “I still have something of yours at home.”
“Oh bugger, of course,” she whispered back. “I had forgotten all about those. At least you didn’t bring them here! Maybe if tomorrow is nice, we can go to the beach and you can give them to me then.”
As much as we both wanted to get into some more kissing, Church fellowship was probably not the right place. We even refrained from holding hands. After everything finished, a bunch of us stood around talking, and Cathy said she would call me tonight to confirm the beach trip the next day.
After dinner that night, Cathy rang me to make sure that I still wanted to go to the beach with her. I called out to my mother, asking if I could go to the beach tomorrow with some others, and she said that would be ok. We agreed that I would get to her place around 8 am, which would give us lots of time at the beach.
The next day was a lovely sunny summer’s day, so after breakfast I got my beach towel, and wrapped Cathy’s panties up in it. I put my towel in my backpack, and a bottle of sunscreen. I told my mother I wouldn’t be home for lunch, which is what she expected anyway, and rode my bike to Cathy’s place. I put my bike around the side of the house, and knocked at the back door.
Cathy’s mother answered, and said “Oh, hi Will, come in. By the way, thanks so much for taking Cathy home on Saturday night, we didn’t leave until fairly late, and I think she was getting pretty tired.”
“That’s ok, Mrs Parsons,” I replied, “I was getting a bit tired myself. Is David around?”
“No, he started summer school coaching classes today,” she said. “His father and I weren’t all that happy with his school report this year, so we told him he had to pull his socks up and get down to work. We told him that senior high school is a lot different to the junior years, and we expect to see some more dedication and hard work from him.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right,” I said. “I remember us talking about that on Friday.”
“Hi Will,” Cathy said as she entered the kitchen. “Have you got a bag or something? I have grabbed us a cold bottle of coke to drink.”
“Yeah, it will fit in my backpack,” I answered. “Give me your towel, too.” I put the drink and her towel in my backpack, and asked, “Anything else to go in here?”
“No,” she said, “nothing else. See ya, Mum,” she called out.
“Have fun you two,” Mrs Parsons said. “And remember, be careful and swim between the flags.”
“Mum!” Cathy said, slightly exasperated, and rolled her eyes at me. I smiled back, knowing exactly what she was thinking. Only dorks swam between the flags.
It was only a short walk to the beach, and we held hands once we got out of her front gate. “Did you bring them?” Cathy asked.
“Bring what?” I said, playing dumb.
“You know,” she said, punching me lightly on the arm, “my panties.”
“Those?” I said. “No, I have decided to keep them. At night in bed, I pull them out and put them against my cheek, and have wild sexy thoughts about you. They feel really soft and sexy too.” Cathy was fun to tease that way; mind you, she would tease me just as much.
“You dick,” she said. “I bet you stuffed them to your nose and sniffed the crotch too.”
“Of course,” I said. “And they smelt very nice too.”
“William Morris!” she exclaimed, sounding exasperated, “I don’t know whether to believe you or not. Or whether to be flattered by what you said,” she added, squeezing my hand. “Seriously, would you do all that with a pair of my panties?”
“Actually, Cathy,” I said, “I do have them here. But I did feel them, and they do feel really sexy. But I don’t need your panties to have wild sexy thoughts about us.”
“Hmm,” she said, “just as I thought. I have been having wild sexy thoughts about us too. Did you actually smell them though?”
Now this was tricky. If I told her the truth, would she think I was weird? But as friends, we had always been honest with each other.
“Umm, actually,” I said, “yes I did. I found them in my pocket when I was getting undressed, and pulled them out and looked at them. The crotch was still damp, but it didn’t smell of pee, it smelt really, umm, sexy and all that.”
“Ohh,” she said. “They got all wet in the crotch when we were first kissing. I hadn’t peed in them then, not really much, I think only a few drops got out crossing the car park. But our kissing got me all excited, and I guess that’s what must have happened.”
“I thought so too,” I said. “Um, Cathy, you don’t think I was a bit weird, doing that?”
“No, of course not,” she said. “I guess I would have done the same if I was you. Anyway, now you know what kissing like that does to me. I could feel what it did to you.”
So she had felt my prick getting hard when we were kissing and holding each other tight. “Yeah, well it sort of does that.”
“Good,” she said, “Because that means you love me. At least that’s what Jenny Adams said, that if a guy really likes you, his ... thing ... gets all big and hard.”
“Well, Jenny doesn’t know everything,” I said. This was one thing I did know. “A guy’s ... um ... dick will get big and hard if he gets aroused. For a lot of guys, like has nothing to do with it. I think Jenny confuses desire with love.”
“Oh,” Cathy said, slightly crestfallen. “Does that mean you don’t love me, I just excite you that way?”
“No, not at all,” I said. “I do love you, Cathy. It’s just that when we were kissing that way, and you were pressing right against me, you aroused me too. I think we just need to be careful, I mean we don’t want to get too carried away and, well, you know.”
“I love you too, Will,” she replied. “I know we have to be careful, and not do things we may end up regretting. It’s just that when we were kissing the other night in the park, I kept thinking of all those things Jenny said she does, and how I wanted you to do them to me. But you are right, let’s not rush things.”
By now, we were at the beach, at the path leading through the dunes to the main swimming area. The patrolled area, the “between the flags” section was right in front of us, packed full of little kids running around. “Ugh,” Cathy said. “Who would want to swim there?”
We looked up and down the beach. The area just beyond the patrolled section had a bad looking rip current in it, and beyond that was where a bunch of board riders were surfing.
“What about down near Cook Terrace?” I asked, indicating the far southern end next to the small headland.
“Yes, let’s go down there,” Cathy said, “that’s always nice. Besides, there is the cliff at our back, and we can lie in one of the little sheltered areas.”
She was referring to one of a number of little gully-like areas in the sandy cliff at the back of the beach, where the rain and ocean had eroded narrow sections, surrounded on three sides bay walls of soft rock. It wasn’t that far down the sand to that part of the beach, we would be pretty much by ourselves there anyway.
“Anyway, Will,” she said, “thank you for being so understanding on Saturday night. With me having to pee and all that. You could have made fun of me, but you didn’t.”
“Well, you really had to go,” I replied. “Besides, good friends are meant to help each other out.”
“I know, but you could have made it really embarrassing for me.” She squeezed my hand tightly. “Besides, it was only a week before when I was late getting home that I did pee my pants completely, and I didn’t want to do it again.”
“What happened then?” I asked.
“Well, I had been up at Janelle’s place in Newport, and I must have lost track of the time and I missed the bus I would have taken to get home in time – you know how Dad is about me being out late. So I had to wait another fifteen minutes for the later bus, and I knew that even if I ran all the way home from the bus stop, I would still be a bit late. By the time the bus arrived, I was busting for a pee; I must have drunk too much coffee her place.
“When I got off the bus, I started to walk, getting fuller by the second. As I turned the corner I looked at my watch. 5 past 10. Shit. Dad would kill me! I thought about ducking behind one of the apartment driveways down our road – I could have gone down one and squatted there for a pee, but it would have delayed things and I really was getting worried about the telling off I was in for.
“So I decided to run! Not a good idea but fear and desperation overruled good sense. I must have run only about six steps when I felt the first spurt! Every step I took made a lot more pee squirt out, so I slowed down and stopped – running that is! I certainly didn’t stop peeing! I remember I had on a cotton dress – about knee length. And sandals. They were both soaked. And I was still peeing. I didn’t even bother to grab myself to stop. Not much point, as I was drenched! I spread my legs and just went. And went. I don’t think there was anyone around to see me, but by then I couldn’t have cared less!
“When I eventually stopped, I continued my walk home. My sandals squelched and my feet slid around in them! My dress was wet from the waist down – probably because I was running as I peed and it sprayed everywhere – and as I walked it wrapped itself round my legs and stuck to me. I can still remember the feeling now! I looked behind and saw puddles and drips all along the road behind me, and there was a huge lake where I had let if all flood out! By the time I got home I must have been about 15 minutes late and soaked.
“I slunk to my bedroom without putting the light on, and luckily my dad didn’t even hear me. But mum did, and came in to see why I hadn’t put the light on. She felt sorry for me – probably because she knew it all happened because I ran home in fear. She took all my clothes away and washed them and never said a word to dad.
“But that is why I was so worried about peeing my pants the other night.” She finished her story, and we slipped an arm around each other. “Does that disgust you? That your girlfriend sometimes pees her pants?” She looked a bit embarrassed, and slightly worried.
“Of course not,” I said. I felt incredibly exhilarated that she thought of herself as ‘my girlfriend’. “I mean, there have been quite a few times when I have been just as desperate to pee, like I was almost busting, but I guess it is easier for guys to pee in public places than for girls.”
“Yeah, you guys have it easy,” she said.
“Plus when we pee we can sign our names, too,” I added. “At least if your name is not too long!”
“Now that would be something to see,” Cathy said, laughing. “Will Morris is nice and short.”
After about ten minutes walking down the beach, we found a secluded area to sit. The gully was about seven or eight feet wide, but narrowed behind us, and high walls sheltered us from each side. We could sit, with the warm sun on us, looking out to the waves, and relax. I pulled out our towels, and the sunscreen I bought. “Here are your panties,” I said, “I think I have cleaned all my drool off them.”
“You are terrible,” Cathy said. “Can you put them back in your backpack until we get back home?”
I dropped my backpack against the wall in the shade, and spread my towel on the sand. “Would you like some sunscreen?” I asked.
“Yes, thanks Will,” she said. “I don’t want to get too burnt.”
We rubbed the sunscreen on our exposed skin, and I said, “Do you want me to do your back?” She nodded and I rubbed the cream into her shoulders and back. “Anywhere else?” I asked.
“No, that will be fine for now,” she said. “Can I do your back?”
“Thanks, that’s nice,” I replied. It felt good to have her rub the cream onto my back; almost too good, as I felt my prick start to get erect. As soon as she finished, I lay forward on my stomach, hoping she hadn’t noticed my erection. At least she didn’t say anything. That was something I really liked about Cathy, even though we would tease each other, we never deliberately tried to embarrass the other person.
We lay there in silence for a while, looking out at the ocean. When I felt my erection had subsided somewhat, I sat up, and held her hand. She smiled at me, and rested her head on my shoulder, so I put my arms around her shoulders. It felt a little awkward, and when I looked across, I saw my hand was only an inch or two from her breast. I shifted slightly, so I wasn’t so close to touching it, instead resting my fingers on the skin between her shoulder and breast. Cathy had her arm around my waist, and we sat together for a few minutes.
“Feel like a swim?” I asked her.
“Yes,” she said, “the water looks nice. Do you want a drink first?” Cathy asked, grabbing the coke from the backpack.
“Sure,” I said, “you go first.”
Cathy opened the bottle, and put it to her lips, taking a long swig. Passing it to me, she said, “Not worried about girl germs?”
I laughed, “Nope. That’s just for little kids. Besides, I would have got heaps more on Saturday night than I would get from us sharing the bottle.” I swallowed a mouthful of the cold drink.
We walked down to the water, and dove into the waves. We swam around for a while, catching some waves, and then generally goofing around, ducking and splashing each other. At one stage, she swam up behind me, and grabbed my leg, and I spun around, and wrapped my arms around her. Cathy pulled my face to hers, and gave me a deep, passionate kiss. We opened our lips, and felt our tongues press against each other’s. “Mmmm, that feels lovely,” she said.
We got out of the water, and flopped back down on our towels. I lay down on my stomach, mainly to hide my swelling erection again, but Cathy sat up next to me, gently rubbing her hand across my back. It felt very relaxing, and I turned my head to look at her, and rested a hand on her leg.
I must have dozed off for a while, because when I opened my eyes, the sun appeared to be shining straight down. I saw that Cathy was lying down on her back, and she had taken off her bikini top. Trying not to move my head, I could see one of her breasts clearly. They weren’t large, but I could see the bump of an erect nipple protruding above the gentle curve of her breast. As I continued to peek, she leant over and grabbed the coke bottle, and took another long drink. The bottle was almost empty; she must have drunk most of it. She had slid back slightly to grab the bottle, and as she raised it to her lips, I could clearly see both of her breasts. They looked lovely, and I could see that this wasn’t the first time she had sunbathed topless, as they were only a few shades lighter than the rest of her body. Each breast had a sexy looking nipple, surrounded by some pinkish skin, and the nipples were erect, and the pink skin surrounding them was crinkled.
I made a slight noise, like I was waking up, and Cathy quickly grabbed her bikini top and slipped back on. I sat up, and said, “I guess I must have dozed off.”
“Yes,” Cathy said, “you looked so cute sleeping like that. It is getting close to lunchtime.”
“Wow,” I exclaimed, “did I sleep that long? What do you want to do for lunch? Get a burger at Timmy’s?” Timmy’s was the milk bar and take away food place next to the surf club at the main part of the beach. The food was edible, but only just.
“No, I don’t think I could stomach that greasy stuff today,” Cathy replied. “We can go back to my place and I can make us some sandwiches.”
“Sounds good to me,” I said, “shall we go?”
“OK,” she said, and went to stand up. “Oh, damn,” she said, “This is getting to be a habit.”
“What?” I asked.
“I gotta pee again. Like the other night,” she said, and pressed a hand against her groin. “I must have drunk too much coke.”
I grabbed the bottle, and drained the last mouthful of the drink. “Well, you have almost single-handedly finished the whole bottle.”
“Sorry,” she said, “I didn’t leave much for you. I guess being needing to pee fit to burst is punishment for being greedy.” She looked to be pretty desperate; I could see her pressing her hand against her groin, wriggling her legs together.
“Just pee here on the sand,” I said. “You can just stand up and pee against the rocks.”
“I can’t pee like you can, standing up,” she said, “I thought you realised that. Oh damn, I am about to pee in my bikini pants here.”
“Well, just pull them down and pee on the sand. No one can see us here,” I said.
“Yeah, I will have to do that,” she said. “But don’t you look, please.” She looked at me, imploring me to agree.
“Sure, Cathy, I will scoot forward a bit,” I said.
I moved forward a foot or two, so I was next to her shins. She pushed her bikini bottoms down, and took one leg out, and she had her legs apart. “Now don’t you look, Will,” she reminded me.
I heard that same hissing sound and it took all my willpower not to turn my head to watch her. But pretty quickly I could see the stream of pee running down the sand between her legs. “Ohh, that feels much better,” Cathy said, “I couldn’t have held it any longer.” After a minute she had finished, and stood up behind me, and pulled her bikini bottoms back up. “Ok, we can go now.”
“All right,” I said, “but I have to pee as well. I will just go against the back of the wall here.” I stood up, and saw the huge puddle of pee she had put out; the force of it had made a small hole in the sand where some of it was still in a little pool. “Don’t you look, either,” I said, and I moved to the back of the gully we had been sitting in. Facing the wall, I pulled my prick out from my swimmers, and held it to the wall. It was over half erect, and it took a little while before the pee would flow. When I finished, I shook the last drops from my prick, and put it back in my swimmers.
“It’s so much easier for you guys,” Cathy said. I wondered, did she peek? I hadn’t really thought about turning completely around so my back would have been towards her. Oh well, no point worrying now; if she saw me, so be it.
I put our towels back in my backpack, and threw it across one shoulder. I put an arm around Cathy’s waist, and we started to walk back towards her house. The day was getting warm, and the sand was hot under our feet. “I will want something cold to drink when we reach your place,” I said.
“Uh-huh,” Cathy said. She seemed to have her mind on something else. “Will, can I ask you something?”
“Sure, you know you can ask me anything,” I said. We had always been able to talk about pretty much anything with each other.
“I have a confession to make,” she said, sounding a little guilty. “When you were peeing just then, I ... well, I peeked at you. I know you asked me not to, but I couldn’t help looking. I feel bad about it, because you were so good, not looking at me, even though I am sure you wanted to, and you never teased my about having to pee on Saturday night. Anyway, I saw your, um, dick, and saw you pee just then. I’m sorry, Will.”
I had guessed as such, if there was one thing Cathy was, it was curious. Every so often, I would call her “Kat”, as in curiosity killed the cat. “That’s ok; I kind of suspected your curiosity would get the better of you.”
“Well, can I ask you; is your, ahh, dick always that big?” She asked. “I haven’t seen a penis before, I mean, not in real life, and the drawings and diagrams they showed us in health classes just showed this little thing hanging down, about the size of your thumb.”
I laughed a little, and said, “Most of the time it is small, just sort of hanging there doing nothing. But when it gets hard, it probably gets to be a bit bigger than it was then, and it sticks straight up. But I can’t pee when it is really hard like that. So it does get a little bigger that what you saw, but most of the time it is smaller and softer.”
“Oh.” She was quiet for a little while. “How much bigger can it get? I mean, it looked pretty large to me. Are all guys’ dicks the same size?”
How could I tell her about the size of guy’s dicks? “Well it gets a bit larger, maybe an inch longer, and thicker, particularly at the top. But I don’t know much about other guy’s dicks, I mean, I don’t make a habit of looking at them. Guys would think I was a poof or something. I think they are pretty much the same size, some are probably larger than mine.”
“I never really knew that,” Cathy said. “I mean, in our sex education classes, they taught us a lot about how a girl’s body changes at puberty, and all of our sex organs and that sort of stuff, but hardly anything about the guy’s side of it. Probably all they said was ‘The man puts his erect penis in the woman’s vagina, and when he ejaculates the sperm fertilizes the ovum, which develops into a baby.’ Followed immediately by ‘And girls, you don’t want to do that until you are married.’ Yeah, sure, at least half of us talked about what it would feel like to have sex with a guy, and I know for a fact that at least ten of the girls in our year have already done it.”
“That’s much like our classes,” I said. “Almost nothing about a woman’s body, just stuff about what guys, and how it is uncool to hassle girls about doing it, and why it is important not to have sex with a woman until you are married. So of course all of us said we wanted to see what it was like as soon as possible. Though I don’t know how many guys in our year have done it.”
We had reached the path leading to the road, so I pulled our shorts and tee shirts out of the backpack, and we pulled them on. We put our thongs on as well, since the gravel road was hard on our feet, and besides, there was always the chance of stepping on some broken glass.
“Maybe we can tell each other what we learned in our own lessons,” Cathy said, still inquisitive. “That way we can learn the complete story, not just half of it.”
“Yeah, we could,” I said. I racked my brain, trying to remember the things that we covered in ‘health’ - sex education. A lot of it I had already known, plus there was a bunch of other stuff that my older cousin had told me. He seemed to think it was true, and I know he had actually done some of that stuff with his girlfriend. Last time I was up at their place - a farm in the country - he said he should try to line me up with one of his girlfriend’s friends, so I could do that stuff too. But I didn’t think Cathy would want to know that level of detail.
“I know some of the guys probably got a real shock when they learnt the truth though,” I continued. “There was one guy, back in primary school, made out he knew everything about sex. You wouldn’t know him, he went to Narrabeen High. One day, we were sitting around in the playground, going on about stuff, when he said he knew all about sex and how babies are made. According to him, he had peeked in on his mother and her boyfriend and explained it as follows: The man puts a balloon on his dick, and then uses his dick to insert the balloon into the woman’s pee hole. Then he puts his lips to the woman’s pee hole and inflates the balloon until it pops. He knew it popped, because his mother screamed when it did. We believed him, because his story was just too bizarre to have been made up. At least we believed him for a while, until we learned better.”
“Oh, that is just too funny,” Cathy said, “I wonder what he thought when he learned how it really happens? I have a funny story like that too. When I was 7, one of my friends told me that babies were made when a man peed into a woman’s mouth. My friend explained that the humping part, which we all vaguely knew was part of the baby-making process, helped the man build up enough pee. I mean, that really grossed me out; I couldn’t understand why anyone would ever make a baby under such circumstances. Did grown women like the taste of pee? Troubled, I asked my mum how I was born. After a lot of talking around the point, my parents got me a book about human reproduction and got my answer. The ‘penis-in-vagina’ model was still disturbing to me, but it was better than the ‘my-mum-guzzles-pee’ model.”
“Yeah, I don’t think doing it that way would be as much fun,” I replied. “Amazing the things we think of as little kids.”
We walked in silence the short distance to her place, and went in the back door to the kitchen. Cathy called out to her mother, but there was no answer.
“Oh, that’s right,” she said, “Mum is working up at the hospital for a few weeks on relief.” Mrs Parsons was a nurse, and often filled in at the local hospital when they were short of staff. “We have the house to ourselves, Will,” Cathy said, and looked me in the eye.
I guess that was a cue for me, so I put my arms around her, and we kissed. This time, we let our tongues push and twist against each other’s, and soon Cathy was pressing her hand against my chest, squeezing me. I pressed my hand to her breast, against her tee shirt, and squeezed slightly. I could feel the nipple poking against my hand, so I rubbed my fingers over it, feeling it rolling against the fabric of her tee shirt and bikini. She must have really liked that, because she pressed her groin hard into me, and with my back to the kitchen cupboards, she rubbed and ground her body against mine. My prick was now really hard, and she rubbed back and forth against it, the crotch of her pants pressed firmly against the bulge in my shorts. I could feel myself getting quite aroused, and I knew if Cathy continued doing that, I would probably come. I gently pushed her away from me, and said, “Let’s stop for a bit, maybe have something to eat.”
Cathy looked a little disappointed, her face was flushed, and her eyes had a sparkle to them. I could see the impressions her nipples were making in her tee shirt; I guess she was just as aroused as I was. “Yes, Will,” she said, “I guess you are right. It just felt so good when you rubbed my breasts like that. I think I sometimes get a bit carried away,” she remarked, as she looked down at the bulge in my shorts.
“I know, Cathy,” I said, holding her hands, “when we do things like that, the feelings get just so strong. I don’t want us to rush things and do anything, well, you know what I mean.” I looked down, feeling my cheeks red and burning.
“You are right,” she said, “I don’t want us to spoil what we have. Anyway, let’s eat; I am starving.”
Monday Afternoon, November 12, 1973
We made some cold meat sandwiches, drank a glass or two of ice-cold water, and got some fruit; I took an apple, Cathy grabbed a banana. We sat out on the back porch finishing our lunch, still feeling a little embarrassed about what we had done and felt.
I decided to break the silence, and asked her, “Well, do you want to go back to the beach?”
“We could,” Cathy said, “but maybe walk up the other way, around the rocks to Bungan Beach. That is a bit nicer than where we were.”
“You mean we won’t have to sit next to where we peed?” I said.
Cathy laughed, and hit me on the shoulder. “You won’t let me forget that, will you?”
“Well, I saw how much was left there,” I said.
“It wasn’t all mine,” she protested, “you peed a fair bit too!”
“Yeah, I guess I did,” I admitted. “But walking up to Bungan sounds nice.”
We put the scraps from our lunch in the bin, and Cathy took our empty coke bottle, and filled it with cold water from the fridge. “I think we will get thirsty this afternoon,” she said, “and cold water is better that coke, anyway.”
I pulled Cathy’s panties from the pocket inside my backpack. “Here these are, too,” I said as I gave them to her. “Although I did like being able to feel them at night in bed. Though that little damp patch as well and truly dried now.”
She took them from me, and said, “Maybe I could find something else to give you to replace them. Certainly finding something damp won’t be hard, not with the way we kiss.” She took them up to her bedroom, and when she returned, said, “My bikinis are still all wet from what we did just before lunch; although my shorts are dry now.”
I was amazed at what she said, “You mean you get that wet between your legs, from what we were doing? I never knew it was like that.”
“Well, that time I did. When you were squeezing my breasts,” she said, “I suddenly became all wet and sticky between my legs. It felt really good, and when we pushed together, it felt really hot and wet there.” Her face suddenly went red, and she looked away from me. “Anyway, you were getting the same; I could feel and see how big you were getting too. So don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that.”
“I did enjoy it, Cathy,” I said, “I enjoy that a lot. Maybe too much. But I guess there is a lot I don’t know about girls’ ... women’s bodies, and how they react, even what they really look like.”
“Well,” she said, “there is a lot we both don’t know about each other’s bodies. That’s what I said before; we can teach each other about all that.”
“Sort of like a ‘show and tell’?” I said, “You show me yours and I’ll show you mine?”
“Kind of,” she said, “I have always wanted to see what those things looked like.”
“Curious Kat,” I said.
“Well, don’t tell me you don’t want to see things too,” she answered. “Anyway, come on, let’s go, or the day will be over.”
We headed back towards the beach, and soon we were walking along the sand, this time to the north. I put my tee shirt in my backpack, and Cathy took hers off too. In a few minutes, we had reached the rock platform that separated this beach from the one to the north, and we scrambled over a few boulders. As Cathy climbed up a rock just in front of me, I thought I saw a slightly darker patch right in the centre of the crotch of her shorts. Maybe she is still wet there, I thought.
We walked out onto the rock platform, looking in the little pools, seeing little crabs scurry under rocks as we approached. Soon, we were at the southern edge of Bungan Beach, which was shorter than Mona Vale beach. Few people came here, since you either had to walk around the rock platform like we had, or down a steep set of stairs from the main road. As well, it was not patrolled, so that tended to keep families with little kids away. We slipped our thongs off, and felt the warm sand between our toes. We walked a little way up the sand at the edge of the water, and then Cathy nudged me, pointing to where a woman was lying on the sand about ten metres away. “She hasn’t got her top on,” she whispered to me. I casually looked across, and there was a woman, probably in her early 20’s, lying on the sand, reading a book, and not wearing a bikini top. She had huge breasts, and they were tanned as dark as the rest of her body.
“Let’s sit down over here,” Cathy said, flopping down on the sand between the topless woman and the water. I pulled our towels out, and stuffed our shorts in my backpack. We lay on our stomachs next to each other, discretely looking at the woman.
“Like her tits, Will?” Cathy whispered in my ear. “Do you like big ones like that?”
“Hmmm, I’m not sure,” I replied. “I mean, bigger doesn’t mean better, and I don’t know about the really dark patch of skin around her nipples. My cousin told me that ‘anything over a handful is wasted’, anyway.”
Cathy giggled at the last comment. “Well, all I have is a handful, anyway.”
“Actually, the exact words he told me was ‘anything over a mouthful is wasted’, but the same thing applies,” I said.
“Ohh, a mouthful,” Cathy said. “You will give me naughty ideas, doing things with your mouth. So you don’t like her big boobs?” she asked again.
“I didn’t say that I didn’t like them,” I said, “it’s just that I really haven’t seen many to compare them too. I think yours are nicer, anyway.”
“Oh,” Cathy said, and blushed. “I don’t think mine are nicer, they are still little girl’s tits. See how the skin around her nipples is dark, and covers a large area? Mine still have just a small pink patch, and the nipples never get all that big. I would like them to be bigger and darker.”
“Well, I can’t really comment,” I said, “I haven’t really seen them. Not like I can see hers anyway. And they look much too large to me.”
“Do you want to see my breasts?” Cathy asked. “I could take my bikini top off here, and you could compare mine to hers.”
What a stupid question - of course I would love to see her breasts. I swallowed, and tried to keep my voice calm when I said, “Yes, I would like to see them. But I bet they will be better looking that her big gazongas.”
“OK, here goes,” she said, and sat up. I sat up next to her, looking at her body. “You know,” she said, “you will be the first guy to see my breasts.”
She undid her bikini at the back, the put her hands behind her neck and undid it there. She paused for a few seconds, holding it against her breasts with her arms, and she looked like she was building up the courage to take the top off. She then pulled her arms away, putting the discarded top on her towel next to us, and lay on her back, angling towards me. “There you are, Will,” she said, in a soft voice. “Look at my little girl titties.” She seemed slightly embarrassed, but excited too.
I lay on my side, my head supported by my arm, and I leant towards her. Her breasts were very nice; much smaller than the other woman’s. As she said, the area around her nipples were much smaller, and a light pink colour, not the darker brown of the older woman’s. I tentatively reached across, and brushed some sand from the side of one breast. As I did, I saw her nipples start to harden.
“I think they look really sexy, Cathy,” I said, my eyes exploring every square inch of her breast flesh. There is no way I would want those huge things,” indicating towards the topless woman, “Not when I could have yours.”
Cathy blushed a deeper red, and murmured, “Oh, thank you, Will, that is really nice. I have always worried that no guy would like my breasts; they seem much smaller than most other girls.”
“Size isn’t important, Cathy,” I reassured her. “Besides, remember what I said, about things over a handful being wasted?”
“I thought it was mouthful,” she said. “Are these more than a mouthful for you?” she asked, squeezing her arms together to make her breasts appear larger.
“I don’t think so,” I said, smiling and laughing softly. “I guess we may have to check them out. Not here, though.”
“I like you looking at my breasts,” she said. “It makes me feel all warm inside, knowing you are admiring them. What do guys really call a girl’s breasts, anyway? Tits? Boobs? What was that word you used - gazongas?”
“There are lots of words and expressions,” I said. “Gazongas are only for really large ones, like hers. Tits, I guess, mainly for nice small ones; boobs, is pretty common. There are other words, too; melons or knockers for big ones, fun bags,”
Cathy burst out laughing. “Fun bags? I have never heard of that one. Why fun bags? Is that because you have fun with them?”
“I guess so,” I said. “I don’t know how these expressions start; you just wanted to know what they are. Could we have fun with your fun bags?” I asked, and playfully squeezed one of her breasts, tweaking the nipple.”
“Stop, Will,” she hissed, “not here. We need to find somewhere private if you are going to do that.”
I looked around. The only person within a hundred metres or so of us was the topless woman with the large breasts, and she was firmly engrossed in her book. “No one is anywhere near us, who could see?” I said, and caressed her breast again, this time rubbing my fingers around her small, erect nipple. “Besides, I can see you enjoy that, Cathy; your body is telling me that.”
“Mmm, maybe,” she said, “but still, we had better not. And I can see you are enjoying that too - your body is clearly showing me how much!” I looked down, and my swimmers were bulging right out as my erect prick was constrained by the tight cloth. Just as well I had tied the string tight, or the knob would be poking out the waistband by now. She gently poked the bulge with a finger.
“Oww,” I said, though she didn’t hurt me at all. “Maybe we had better have a swim.”
Cathy agreed, and put her bikini top back on. I sat up, and discreetly tried to adjust my erection. We stood up, and walked to the water, and dived under a wave. The cool water made my erection subside, and as we trod water out beyond the shore break, Cathy put her arms around me.
“Is it still all big?” she asked. “I think it is really neat the way it grows like that.”
“No, it has shrunk,” I said. “The cold water makes it smaller, and besides, I am not touching your tits now.”
Cathy quickly put a hand down to my swimmers and felt my prick. “Oh, it is much smaller. That’s so cool the way it changes size like that.”
I blushed, and said, “yeah, well, sometimes it gets erect when I don’t really want it to. And it can be hard to conceal when it gets like that. I mean, you only get wet there, and no one can really see that, but for guys, an erection can become pretty obvious.”
“I know,” Cathy said. “I have seen you get them quite a few times. I notice the way you try to adjust yourself.”
I felt my cheeks get a bit red, and I decided to dive under the water, and swim away a bit. I checked my prick, to make sure it was still small, and secure in my swimmers.
Cathy swam after me, and said, “I’m sorry Will; I didn’t mean to embarrass you. But there is one thing I have been thinking about today, and it sort of worries me.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Well, when I saw your pen ... your prick before lunch, I was amazed at its size. I mean, I have never seen one in real life before; all I had seen were drawings. And when you said that it gets larger, and when I saw the outline of it in your swimmers, I wondered. I mean, when we have sex, that is, when we decide we want to, I am scared that I will be too small for it to fit in.”
“What do you mean, ‘too small’?” I asked, “I thought women were designed so that a guy’s penis fitted inside somehow?”
“So did I,” Cathy said. “But I mean, my opening - my vagina - I don’t think it is really big. I have looked at myself in a mirror, and felt it. I could barely get the tip of my finger inside, and that felt tight. But I didn’t think that would be a problem, not until I realised that your penis - your prick was much larger than the tip of my finger. What if we won’t be able to do it - once we decide we want to?”
She looked really worried, but I wasn’t really sure what the answer was. I knew that my prick wasn’t really big, just average, but then I knew next to nothing about women’s vaginas. I had guessed they somehow had a round hole, which was somehow the right diameter to take a prick. “I don’t think we will have a problem, Cathy,” I said. “I think when you get really wet, that makes it really slippery, sort of like oil, and maybe your um, ... vagina, is like elastic or something, and will stretch to fit. I mean, a baby has to come out of there, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, but Mum tells me how that really hurts; she often helps deliver babies, and she says the women are screaming and cursing.” Cathy didn’t sound all that convinced.
“Maybe that means we still aren’t ready to have sex,” I suggested, “maybe you still have some growing to do down there. You could ask Dianne, she should know all about it when she gets back from her honeymoon.”
“That’s a good idea, I will ask her,” she said. “She has already told me some stuff about sex and things like that. Anyway, let’s go back on the sand.”
We swam back to the shore, and jogged up the beach, and flopped down on out towels. I loved that feeling, being wet and cool from the surf, and just lying down feeling the warm sun on my back. I was just getting comfortable, when Cathy nudged my shoulder and whispered, “Look, Will, she’s taken her bikini bottoms off now!”
I looked towards the woman, trying to be discreet. Not that there was any need for discretion. She was now sitting up, her knees bent, reading her book. But that wasn’t what was interesting - we could see right between her legs, and there were no bikini bottoms to be seen, just a large thatch of dark hair between her legs.
“Can you see all the hair she has?” Cathy whispered.
“Yeah, I can,” I said. “Is that how most women are there?”
“I don’t know,” Cathy said. “I think it depends, I have some, but just at the top. I have seen Dianne naked several times, and she has more than I do, but not as much as her. Look closely, you can make out the labia, you know, the lips.”
I wasn’t about to show my complete ignorance and ask what a labia was, but I could see two fleshy bulges running vertically between her thighs. I assumed that was her ‘pussy’ as my cousin referred to it as. As we were watching, we saw one of her hands move between her legs, and quickly brush the hair between the lips a few times.
“Wow,” Cathy said, “I bet she is reading a really sexy book, and it is turning her on. She is reaching down to rub herself, to, you know, masturbate.”
Again, I didn’t know much about how women masturbated, that certainly wasn’t in my sex education classes. Neither was much about how guys masturbated, either, if the truth is known. But it was certainly clear what she was doing, as she slid her hand between her legs again, this time, two fingers seemed to spread those lips apart. The flesh between them wasn’t covered in hair, but looked to be smooth, and seemed to be glistening with moisture.
“See,” Cathy said, “she is rubbing herself, at the top of her pussy is her clitoris, and touching that really turns her on. I bet she is really wet now.”
We saw one of her fingers slide inside her vagina, all the way to until her hand was pressed against her pussy.”
“She seems to be able to get her finger all the way inside her,” I whispered to Cathy. “Maybe you just need to be wet enough?”
“Maybe,” Cathy said. “Do you like watching her do that? I do, it is really exciting.”
“Yes,” I said, “it is making me feel aroused again. Quick, she is standing up - pretend we are sleeping,” I said, as she put her book down, and started to get up.
We lay still on the sand, heads facing each other, hoping we weren’t about to be sprung. She walked past us, and entered the ocean.
We sat up, looking towards her. She had walked out into the water, where it was a bit over waist deep, and seemed to be kneeling down in the water.
“I bet she is really rubbing herself now,” Cathy said. “See, she is low down in the water, and it looks like her hands are down by her side. Any minute now she will give herself an orgasm.”
“You think so?” I said, not really knowing what she meant.
“I know so,” Cathy said with a purposeful tone in her voice. “When she has her orgasm, her pussy will be really wet. I mean, it is pretty wet, with her being in the ocean. But you know what I mean.”
I started to understand what Cathy was telling me. “Um, have you done that, well, you know...” My voice trailed off.
“Do I masturbate?” Cathy asked. “I think just about everyone does. Yes, I do. I did when I got into bed on Saturday night, just thinking about us. Does that upset you? I mean, you masturbate too, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I am sure every guy does,” I said. But not in bed; that would be too messy.”
“I guess it would be,” Cathy said. “So where do you do it?”
“Oh, sitting on the toilet, or in the shower,” I said, “someplace where it is really easy to clean up when I come.”
“That makes sense,” she said. “I get so wet when I do that, like after I did on Saturday night, the crotch of my panties were all soaked, there was even a damp spot on the bed. But I like to be able to lie back, I guess it is easy to imaging you are with me and we are having sex.”
“Do you think about us when you rub yourself?” I asked. I was still rather surprised that she felt the way she did towards me.
“I have for the last few months, Will,” she said. “I like fantasising about things we could do. Not just having sex, but you holding me and kissing me, um, kissing me between my legs, things like that. What about you when you masturbate?”
“I think about us,” I said, “like we are having sex, or it is you rubbing me, stuff like that.”
As we were talking, the woman came back out of the water. Her breasts were really quite large, and her dark nipples were very prominent. Her mass of dark pubic hair was matted against her crotch, and she did look pretty sexy with the water running off her. She dried herself off, and started to get dressed.
I said to Cathy, “I guess we should be heading off, we have a reasonable walk home.”
“Yes, it is getting on,” she replied. “Just let me finish off the water, I am a bit hot.” She drained the last of the water, and we gathered our things and started back home.
When we were part way around the rock platform, Cathy pulled me towards some large bounders that had fallen from the cliff. We stood in between them and she said, “I need you to kiss me again, Will, I can’t get the image of watching that woman from my mind.”
I took her in my arms, and kissed her, and our tongues touched again. I moved my hand up over her breast, and gently caressed it though her bikini top. Cathy took my hand, and slid it under her bikini, directly on the smooth skin of her breast, and I massaged her breast, moving her erect nipple around between my fingers. After a few minutes, I repeated the touching on her other breast, then stood back, admiring her lovely soft breasts, her nipples jutting out hard and erect towards me. “You have the most beautiful breasts, Cathy; they are so sexy to look at and to touch.”
“Oh, Will,” she sighed, “Keep doing that please.” We continued to kiss passionately, and I caressed her breasts for a few minutes more. Finally, we broke apart, and she said, “We really do have to get home I suppose. But I have to pee again - do you want to watch me this time?”
“Yeah,” I said, “that would be cool. How do you want to try it?”
“I will sit on the edge of this rock,” she said. She bent down, and pushed her bikini bottoms to her ankles. “Here,” she said, “feel how wet you got me,” indicating the crotch of her bikini. I felt it between my fingers, it was very wet, a lovely kind of slippery wetness.
“That feels really neat,” I said, “really sexy.”
She sat on the edge of a rock, and spread her legs. “Can you see how wet my pussy is?” I looked between her legs, and saw her lovely pussy. As she had said, her lips were glistening with moisture, and the small patch of light brown hair at the top was matted with the wetness. “See what you do to me?” she said. “Now watch how I pee.
She put her hands to her pussy, and with her fingers spread the lips. I knelt to one side, amazed at what I was seeing. I could see the folds of skin, the wetness over it all, and the darker opening of her vagina. “OK, here I go,” she said, and began to pee. Her pee sprayed out, not in a single stream, and she got pee all over the lower parts of her legs. “Ohhh, I peed on my legs,” she said, stopping the flow.
“Maybe if you don’t try to pee so hard,” I suggested.
“OK,” she said, and the flow started again, this time just in a single stream. “That’s better; it isn’t going everywhere this time.” She peed for about 30 seconds, and the last bit dribbled down her pussy to her bum.
“There you go, so now you have seen me pee,” Cathy said. “And you have seen my pussy, too.”
“You pussy looks really sexy, Cathy,” I said. “Now I can really imagine things when I masturbate.”
“Good, I want you to think about that,” she said. “Now, can I see you pee?”
“OK, but it may take a little while before I can go,” I said, knowing my prick was rock hard.
“Let me see,” she said.
I stood up, and pushed my swimmers down. “God, it is huge,” Cathy said with a gasp. My prick was fully erect, pointing almost straight up. “I know that would never fit inside me.”
“I can’t pee with it like that,” I said.
“Well, think of something to turn you off,” Cathy said. “Like old Cherry Field at school!”
I recalled the image of our English teacher; man, she was a sour old bitch. I thought about the time she chewed me out for not preparing a report properly, and my prick started to subside. In a minute, I felt I could pee.
“That worked,” I said, “now I can pee.” It took a few seconds for my flow to start; I was not use to peeing in front of other people like that. “Here it comes,” I said, as I felt the pee rush down my prick. I started to pee, and I moved my prick up and down, making patterns on the rock.
“Oh, that is so cool,” Cathy said, “you can do all sorts of stuff with it as you pee. I quickly flicked my prick to one side, splashing the rock next to her foot. “Arrgh,” she exclaimed, “Don’t pee on my foot!” I moved the stream back away from her, filling a little hollow in the rock. When the flow finished, I shook the last drops from it, and tucked my prick back in my swimmers.
“That was really great,” Cathy said, “thanks for letting me see that.”
“OK, now let’s head back home. We don’t want to be too late,” I said.
We continued on, holding hands, and once we reached the beach, walked across the sand with an arm around each other’s waist. Before we left the beach, Cathy gave me a long kiss. “Thank you for everything today, Will, it was wonderful.”
We were soon back at her place, and I took her towel from my backpack. “Do you want to do the same tomorrow?” she asked.
“Let me check with my folks tonight,” I said. “I will give you a call after dinner.”
“OK, that will be good, I will be waiting for it,” she said. “Oh, and by the way, if you masturbate tonight, will you think about doing things to me while you are rubbing yourself?”
“I certainly will, Cathy,” I said, “I normally do. And what about you, will you do that and fantasise about us?”
“Oh yes, I will,” she said. “I will fantasize about you touching my breasts, and kissing them, and touching my pussy, and licking it too. Now go before it gets too late.”
I kissed her quickly, and pedalled off on my bike. This was going to be one amazing summer, I thought to myself.
Don’t Do Anything Silly
Monday Night, November 12, 1973
I rode my bike home from Cathy’s place, floating on cloud nine. I had never imagined anything like that would happen to me, it must be every teenage boys (wet) dream.
When I got inside the house, my mother asked my “How was the beach, son?” and I said it wasn’t bad. I went to the bathroom to take a shower, to wash the salt off my body and out of my hair. As I was soaping my hair, I thought about what Cathy and I had done that day, and I quickly had developed a large erection. Taking my prick in my soapy hand, I leant back against the shower wall and rubbed my prick, picturing Cathy’s lovely wet pussy in front of me, and remembering how sexy the wet crotch of her bikini bottoms felt.
I came pretty quickly, shooting my come over the shower wall. I rinsed out my hand, and then washed down the shower wall. That had been building up all day.
After I threw some clothes on, I spent an hour on piano practice. I was scheduled for my next grade exam at the conservatorium in just over four weeks, and even though I disliked the formal exams, the discipline of the practice was important. I wasn’t sure, but hoped to have some sort of musical career, or at least play semi-professionally. Later this week several of us were having a group practice session, and I wanted to make sure I knew all the pieces well.
After dinner, I called Cathy and David. Cathy answered the phone, and immediately said, “Oh, I’m glad it’s you. Davy wants to talk to you in a minute, but I get you first. Did you want to go to the beach again tomorrow?”
“Yes, I want to, my parents are ok about that.” I was on the phone in the back sunroom, the rest of the family were in the lounge room on the other side of the house watching the TV. “Did you, you know?” I asked.
“Mmm-huh,” she said, “I did. I had a shower and did it in there, just after you left. What about you?”
“I did too,” I answered, “in the shower, thinking about your, and touching you. It didn’t take long.”
“Same with me,” Cathy said. “I was already pretty wet, and I sat on the toilet first, and rubbed myself. I was imagining it was you doing it, and I got so wet. And then, guess what? I slid my little finger all the way inside, and it didn’t hurt. So then I tried my index finger, and that was tighter, but I could get that inside me too. It was so wet and hot inside my vagina, and I moved it in and out a little, and I fantasized it was your prick and we were having sex. Well, I had this really strong orgasm, and I was sooooo wet.”
“I will do the same before I go to bed, too,” I said.
“Anyway, Davy’s just come in the room, he wants to ask you something,” Cathy said, “I will see you tomorrow.”
“Ok Cathy, see you,” I replied.
“Will, Mate,” I hear David say. Cathy was the only person who got away with calling him Davy.
“G’day Dave,” I said, “how is the class going?” Poor guy, stuck in summer classes because his grades were bad.
“Well, the teachers there really know their stuff,” he said, “and they seem pretty cool. Plus, Gina Jefferies is in the class with me, and we sat together all day.”
David had had the hots for Gina for months, but even though she acted pretty hard to get, he did have a way with girls. Unlike me, he had already had two semi-serious girlfriends, but he seemed pretty keen on Gina.
“We were thinking about a bunch of us going to the movies on Wednesday night, down at Collaroy,” he said. “There is that new Kung Fu movie on this week, and Gina and I thought we might go to see it. But her parents won’t let her go with just me, so maybe you and Cathy could come as well, and there might be some others from the gang interested.”
Personally, the last thing I wanted to watch was some corny kung phooey flick. But it would give a good excuse to Cathy and I to go out together, and it would be a favour for them. “Let me just ask my folks,” I said. I went into the lounge room, and said David, Cathy and some others from the youth group were planning on seeing a movie on Wednesday night, and asked if could I go. After a question or two, they agreed.
“Yes,” I told David, “I can go. Let us know the details and time tomorrow.”
“Thanks, mate,” he said, “You are a lifesaver. I owe you one. You and Cathy going to the beach tomorrow?”
“Yeah, if the weather is fine,” I replied. “Not much else to do around here.”
We chatted about a few other things, and then hung up. I wandered back into the living room, and my father asked, “you off to the beach again tomorrow, son?”
“Yes,” I said, “if the weather stays like this.”
“Not too tired for our evening run?” he asked. It was our standing joke. For about nine months, we would go for a mile or so jog after dinner had settled. It was his way of getting exercise, and I enjoyed the run.
“I’m ready if you are,” I replied.
I put my running shoes on, and we walked down to the bottom of the drive. “Long course again tonight?” he asked.
“Why not,” I said. In fact, we had done what we called our “long course” most evenings for the last month. It was probably a mile and a half, and better than our original out and back run to the main road and back.
“Tell me, are you and Cathy Parsons dating?” he asked me.
“Umm, well, I guess so,” I replied, “We always hang out together.”
“Well, your mother and I don’t have a problem with that,” he said, “Cathy’s a nice girl, and her parents are good people. Just don’t do anything silly, you are both still young.”
“Dad,” I said, “I mean she’s my best friend’s sister. I’m not likely to do anything silly!”
“Look, Will,” he said, “it wasn’t that long ago that I was your age, and I know what it is like. Just take things slowly, don’t pressure her, I know you are sensible and all that, but things can get out of hand before you realise.”
“Ok,” I said, “thanks Dad. We will be sensible, I know what you are referring to, and I promise not to do anything silly.”
“Good,” he said, “I am trusting you both. Now let’s see if we can beat fifteen minutes.” With that, he started to run up the hill, and I followed. I fell into a comfortable pace, and we were soon at the top, and taking longer strides down towards the main road. As I ran, I thought about what he had said to me, and wondered just how much they knew. I had better tell Cathy; maybe our respective parents had been talking to each other.
We had reached the main road - the bus stop there marked half a mile, and glancing at my watch we were ahead of schedule. “Need a breather?” my father asked.
“Nope,” I said, and continued running. What if someone, somehow saw us today, and told my parents? My mother knows just about everyone around, having taught at the local infants school for quite a few years. That would be so embarrassing, how could Cathy and I live it down. But then I thought, had that happened, and then they would not have let me go to the beach with her tomorrow, or to the movies. It still puzzled me.
We rounded the second last corner, and I was about ten metres ahead of my father. I must have been thinking about Cathy, and not concentrating on where I was going, because I stubbed my toe into the gutter. It didn’t hurt too much, but it put me off my stride, and my father pulled ahead of me. I rubbed my foot, it was a little sore, and then took off after him. I caught up to him at the bottom of our street, and sprinted the last bit to our gate.
Checking my watch, I said “fourteen minutes, forty-five seconds. A new record!”
“Yes,” he said, “that was a good run. Is your foot ok?”
“Yeah, I just stubbed my toe,” I replied. “We may have to work out an even longer course soon.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Feel like a few laps of the pool to cool down?”
We walked up the drive, and dove in the swimming pool to cool down. I swam a few laps, staying there after my father went inside, still trying to work out how my parents knew. Finally, I got out to the pool, and dried myself off. I didn’t really want to watch TV with them, in case they started to ask me some more questions, so I sat at my piano for a while. I had recently got a book on jazz and blues improvisation, and was trying to work my way through that. That took my mind off any worries.
About nine, I decided to go to bed, and said goodnight to my parents. In the bathroom, I thought about what Cathy had told me, how she had got a finger inside her, and was imagining it was my prick. I was discovering a completely new side to her, one that I quickly decided I really liked. As I sat on the toilet, slowly stroking my prick, I closed my eyes, and pictured in my mind the sight of her breasts, and her lovely pussy - the first pussy I had really seen, and how wet it looked when she spread her lips - her labia (I was already learning stuff) - apart. Almost before I realised it, my orgasm approached, and I just had time to aim my spurting prick into the toilet bowl. That felt pretty good, I thought.
As I lay in bed, I wondered what the next day would bring.