Chapter 6

I woke unusually early the next morning feeling refreshed. I had my usual morning woody. My bladder was full from all the pop I drank at the party. That's probably what woke me up. I stroked languorously for a few minutes. I said the hell with it, and headed to the bathroom, where I pissed my woody away. I think I was getting tired of wasting good semen on hand jobs, at least my own hand jobs.

I heard the phone ring. Who could be calling so early? Someone picked it up in my folks' room.

"Dave! Phone!"

"Who is it?"

"Dunno. Wouldn't say. Sounds important."

They knew, they just weren't saying.

I slipped on some shorts, and ran downstairs to pick up the phone. Nobody else was up. I knew Val would sleep late because of her late night. I didn't hear until sometime later just how late she actually did stay up, talking to Dad. With the hay off, now, Dad could afford to sleep in a bit. He was on rest days from his job, so I figured he'd lay in a bit anyway. Turns out, he slept in for the same reason Val did. As long as Dad was in bed, Mom would stay with him. They had a very active sex life, and never missed an opportunity. Heather was always a late sleeper. Everyone sleeping in turned to my benefit in a few short minutes.

"Hello?"

I heard the soft click of Mom and Dad's bedroom phone being replaced in the cradle.

"Hi, Lover!"

"Carol? What's wrong? Are you OK?"

Nobody calls this early without it being trouble.

"No, nothing's wrong. I'm OK. I just woke up early and wanted to talk, that's all."

Something in her voice told me all was not as it should be, and it sounded a bit like she was speaking from a barrel

"Carol Anne Scott! This is me yer talkin' to. Something's wrong. I can hear it in your voice."

"Oh, David."

Uh-oh, when they call me David, something simply awful is going to happen. I felt a chill run down my spine. I was beginning to wish we had an air raid shelter. I was thinking I might need it. She tried again.

"Oh David, I'm scared and confused. I love you so much, and I don't know what to do."

She sounded on the verge of tears. My heart went out to her.

"Now what's there to be so scared and confused about, especially our love?"

She was touching on sacred ground to me, and scaring me, too.

"Last night was the most wonderful experience of my life."

That's better, a positive memory. We can build on that.

"When I came for you, it was so-o-o-o go-o-o-d, and you loved me so hard, I felt proud. But when I did it the second time I thought I made you angry. You rushed out of here with just a little kiss. I thought you were mad at me. And I know you went home hard, and I know it hurts when it's that way sometimes, 'cause I've seen the pain in your eyes, and I don't want to be the cause of your pain, and I wanted to help you, but I couldn't because I don't know how."

The rush of her emotion was almost blinding, forging a run-on sentence that actually made some sense.

"Me? Angry with the love of my life because she trusted me enough to bequeath me the most fantastic gift in the world? Angry because she opened her soul to me, and let me experience a very private moment with her? You must think I'm the lowest of the low if you think that of me. I rushed out because I didn't want to spoil that love and trust with a senseless act of momentary lust. Sorry to put it crudely, but I don't want just a quick fuck. I thought I made that clear last night. I think I'm hurt."

Jesus! Where did a 15 year old learn to be so eloquent? I'd been reading too many of Mom's Harlequins, I think.

"Oh, David."

Again with the 'David'.

"It was special, and I do trust you. It's me. Last night after you left, my panties were completely soaked, and I was still h-h-h-horny. Joanne and Riekie were completely freaked out. They think I'm turning into a slut, especially when I worked myself to two orgasms on you. They wouldn't let me finish myself last night. They said it was dirty. This morning I woke up so horny, it hurts. Help me, David. What's wrong with me?"

My cock had lurched to attention with her words: wet panties, horny. I'd read enough of Dad's books to know what that was all about. But first, we must deal with this 'David' thing.

"Excuse me, my love, for changing the subject a little. Why are you calling me 'David'?"

"Oh, that's what I call you privately when you love me and I love you. It's like when you call me Carol Anne Scott. You use my full name when you really mean it. You don't use it with anyone else, just me. It's so sweet! I just wanted to have a sweet name for you, and I've always loved the full name 'David'. It means strength and love to me. Dave is for everyday use. Why? Don't you like your name?"

She got me -- right in the heart. I felt tears welling up. I shoved them back.

"No, no. That's not it at all. It's just that when anybody else calls me 'David', I duck my head and look for a bomb shelter. Especially my folks. That's their 'give him shit' name. And if they call me by my full name 'William David', I know the shit is so deep I'll never get out."

She giggled. That's better.

"It can't be all that bad. My mom does the same to me, when she's mad. She uses my full name. But I knew, the first time YOU used it, that it was special, that somehow my full name had found a special place in your heart. When you say it, there's a certain tone you use, that just melts me away. Even just now, when you spoke a little sharply, you said 'Carol Anne Scott', to get my attention. You got it, but not quite the way you meant, I think. I melted. I even got a little wet. <giggle>. That's the way I feel when I call you 'David'. I want you to feel all warm and fuzzy, like I do. Is that OK?"

Come to think of it, there was a tone to her voice when she first called me 'David'. Maybe that chill that ran down my spine was a good chill. It never happened before when the folks said it. If she wants it, so be it. I'm easy, just not cheap.

"When you explained it that way, you made me all warm and fuzzy, just like you hoped. So, yeah! 'David' away! You can call me 'David' all you want, and now I'll know it's special when YOU say it. If you're pissed off at me, then a 'DAVE!' will get my attention. OK? Now, at the risk of being crude again, what's all this talk about wet underwear, horniness, sluts, and getting wet when you hear your name? You're starting to turn me on."

After her open frankness with me last night, and especially this conversation, I could do no less for her today, even if it sounded crude. Our relationship had matured to a new level of openness and trust.

"Oh David."

NOW, I hear that tone. I can tell. My cock lurched. Hey, for 15 year old guys, that's pretty close to 'warm and fuzzy', isn't it?

"Last night I was so horny. I don't know what you did to me, but all I could think of was you, a-a-nd your-your thingy. I want you, and I want it, but I'm not ready to make babies yet. But, I think that's what started me. Every time I think of you saying you love me, and want to make babies with me, I just cream. I'm so wet and horny now, I could scream. I woke up that way this morning. I dreamed of you all night. And now, talking about it is making it worse."

I couldn't resist.

"Carol Anne Scott, I thought you said the other girls wouldn't let you finish, and thought you were turning into a slut. Are you a slut?"

"David, why did you do that to me? I'm so wet, I'm making a mess. No, I don't think I'm a slut. I'm still a virgin. You're the first boy I've done anything with. Do you think I'm a slut?"

"I see your full name hits a little hard. Can I shorten it to just 'Carol Anne' and still have the meaning? NO! You are most definitely NOT a 'slut', and if you were, you'd be MY slut, and no one else's. But being a one-man woman, by definition is NOT a 'slut'. Confused yet? Oh, and have I told you yet today how much I love you? "

"David."

Oh, so soft. God, 15 year olds can get warm and fuzzy! It just comes after the sexual reaction. Backwards to the girls. They get warm and fuzzy, then they get the sexual reaction. Hmmmm. My 15 year-old self may have just stumbled on one of the great Mysteries of the Universe... I'm getting real used to the way she says my name. Wonder what it sounds like when she calls it out when she's coming?

"Oh, do you mean if I was just your 'slut', then I wouldn't really be a 'slut'? You can call me 'Late for Breakfast' as long as I hear that loving tone. And no, you haven't told me about your love yet today."

"Carol Anne..."

"OO-OO-OO..."

"Carol Anne, I love you more than life itself."

"David."

Hey, I'm really starting to like this.

"Oh David, I'm so-o-o-o horny. Since the girls stopped me, I can't get myself off. Can you, will you, help me? I need it so bad."

She gave me a double whammy, I'm not sure I can handle all this love. I think I'll ease up on her name. I had a sudden inspiration.

"I'll try."

With her plea for help, I was about to take our relationship to an entirely new level. I hoped she was as open as she sounded, and I was up to the task.

"Where are you? Your voice sounds a little hollow."

"I'm in the bathroom. Dad likes to spend time here, reading. He says it's the only place he can get some peace and quiet sometimes. He had a phone installed so he wouldn't miss important business calls. He said he saw it in a hotel on one of his business trips. He's even got a comfortable chair in here."

"Are you on the toilet or in the tub?"

"I'm sitting on the toilet. I'm so wet, if I sit anywhere else, I make a mess."

"Are you dressed?"

"Well, I don't have any panties on. Can't keep 'em dry <giggle>. But I'm wearing my night shirt."

"Bra?"

"No, they pull and get tight and pinch at night."

"Good, I think you're perfectly dressed for what we're going to do. I need you to do one more thing."

When she told me how she was dressed, or rather, not dressed, the mental image I got was mind blowing. This could be even more fun.

"What's that, David?"

Oh, she got me.

"Ok, Carol Anne"

Two can play this game...

"I want you to run yourself a bath, a nice, hot luxurious bath, with lots of your favourite bubble bath, and while we're waiting for it to fill, let's talk about some other things that are bothering you. Is the water running now?"

"Yes, and I put the bubble bath in it so it really foams up."

"Good. Let it run until it will cover you up to your shoulders if the tub is deep enough. Otherwise, let it fill until there's just enough room for you."

"Ok, David."

So much love! She's getting into it already!

"What other things do you want to talk about?"

"Sluts, and the girls."

"Oh, I thought we already talked about sluts. You haven't changed your mind about me 'cause I'm so horny, have you?"

"No, Carol Anne, you're fine. It's what the girls think that we need to talk about."

"Ok, David. Why do they think I'm a slut, and you don't?"

Just the way she phrased the question, I think she's starting to understand on her own.

"Because they don't understand. Because they can't see their own sexuality. Now, which do you think is stranger: Us getting turned on making out, or getting turned on sneaking peeks at us making out?"

"Uh... Sneaking peeks."

"Why?"

"Uh... It sounds like somebody can't or won't have the fun themselves, so they watch other people."