Chapter 4: Photography

Photos from Barrenjoey

Friday, November 23, 1973

As Cathy and I had agreed, we spent the next few days apart. I did my piano grade exam practice for several hours each day, it was boring, but it had to be done. We did speak to each other every night to talk about the things we had done that day. The rain that had cleared on Monday afternoon had returned, so we would not have been able to do much outside anyway. Actually, thinking about it, may have led to more inside activities, including more of what we might discover in Cathy’s copy of “The Joy of Sex”. Which, given how things went on Monday morning, was probably good in the long run. I was still scared that, despite our intentions, we would somehow slip into having sex.

One good thing that did happen that week was our family’s plans for our annual summer holiday up to the north coast were cancelled. For quite a few years, we would rent a cottage in this little coastal town, about 400 kilometres north of Sydney, and spend three weeks doing nothing but swimming, fishing and relaxing. Normally, I enjoyed that, but this year I was not looking forward to being away from Cathy for that long. Besides, I found the place a bit boring; all there was to do was swim or fish, and I didn’t enjoy fishing at all.

When my father came home from work on Tuesday, he told us that he had some bad news. His boss at work had suffered a heart attack, and while it hadn’t killed him, he would be off work recovering for several months. The chief state engineer had asked my father to take over his boss’s position while he was recuperating, and it meant cancelling the holiday up the coast. My brother and sister were both upset at this, but my mother promised them that there would be things to do here instead. I tried to hide my pleasure at not being separated from Cathy.

On Thursday evening, Cathy rang earlier than usual. We had been taking it in turns, calling each other around ten pm, but that night she rang just after eight, just after my father and I returned from our evening run.

“Will,” she said, “how would you like to hike up to Barrenjoey lighthouse with me tomorrow morning?”

“Sure,” I replied, “that sounds good.”

“Well, wait until I tell you all the details,” she said. It turned out National Park Service was running a big photo competition for people to submit pictures of various parks around the state. Cathy wanted to get some photos of the old lighthouse and caretaker’s cottage and submit them. That meant someone – me – would have to help carry her photo equipment up to the lighthouse. That wasn’t a real problem; there was just the camera bag and her tripod. What she did want to do was to get up there by seven in the morning, when, according to her, the light was best. So we arranged to meet at her place at twenty minutes after five, to catch the five-thirty bus to Palm Beach.

“Oh, by the way,” she said, just before we were about to hang the phones up, “I have this really funny story to tell you about Janice, too. I will tell you tomorrow, but you will get a good laugh out of it”

Janice Collins was one of the daughters of Reverend Collins, the minister at our church, and one of Cathy’s close friends. Janice was nice, but, in my opinion, rather innocent and naive. I could only guess at what the funny story would involve, maybe something to do with Janice and her boyfriend, Ron.

My alarm went off early on Friday morning; I quietly had some breakfast, and gathered my things. I decided to take my camera with me, it was a simple 35mm camera; nowhere near as fancy as the one Cathy had. Hers had different lenses, and she had the ability to take good pictures; not just technically good, but just the right composition to make them worth looking at.

I arrived at Cathy’s place just after 5:15, and she was at the back door waiting for me. I put her beach towel and another bottle of drink inside my backpack, and strapped her camera tripod through the side loops. She put her camera bag over her shoulder, and we walked to the bus stop.

The sun was just starting to rise over the ocean as the bus headed up to Palm Beach. Cathy was excited about the opportunity to try out some new filters or lens or something, I never really understood the technicalities of photography like she did. But there was something about the early morning light, or the angle of the sun, or the clear skies after the last few days of rain, or something that would make these photos the best yet. At least, that is what I think she was trying to tell me. I was happy to just sit next to her and hold her hand while she tried to explain it all to me.

Just before six, we got off the bus at the end of the park. There was about a kilometre to walk across the sandy area before the climb up the headland, so we took a quick drink, and shouldered our bags. We walked along the Pittwater edge of the sandy spit, hand in hand, every now and then pointing out some interesting sight; a fish jumping out of the water, or what might have been one of the fairy penguins from Lion Island swimming close to shore. Before long, we had reached the bottom of the track that lead up to the lighthouse. At one stage it was a road, but now it would take a serious four-wheel drive vehicle to tackle it.

We paused for another drink of water, and started the climb. It wasn’t all that far up to the lighthouse, but the track was steep in places. At least we were doing it in the cool of the morning; if it were the middle of the day, it would be hot work. Even still, we would be hot and a bit sweaty by the time we reached the top, and I was glad I put an extra bottle of water in my bag.

We had climbed about halfway up the track, just past the first steep pinch, when Cathy called for a break.

“Can we stop for a minute, Will?” she asked. “I need to have a pee; we can just duck in behind these trees.”

“Sure,” I said, “I guess I could have one too while it is convenient.” A few paces off the track we were among the thick scrub, and would be invisible to anyone else. Not that anyone was around, of course.

Cathy passed me her camera bag, and I hung it on the branch of a tree, putting my backpack up there as well. The ground was still damp from the last few days’ rain, so I didn’t want to rest them on the ground. Besides, I didn’t know in which direction Cathy’s pee would run, and I could imagine the panic if our pee started to flow towards her camera gear.

Cathy pulled down her pants, and handed them to me. They were also hung up on a convenient branch. She then pulled down her bikini bottoms, and tossed them to me.

“Do you have to pee?” she asked.

“Well, not desperately,” I answered, “But it is probably a good opportunity to go here.” I unzipped my shorts, and pulled out my prick. “I will just go against this tree,” I said, and started to pee.

“You always look cute when you pee,” Cathy said, “and it is so much easier for you guys to do that. When you have finished, can you help to hold me up while I pee?”

I nodded, and when I had finished peeing, shook the last few drops from my prick, and put it back in my pants. I stood behind Cathy, and put my arms around her as she spread her legs apart and squatted down slightly.

“I was in a slight hurry when I woke up,” she said, “and I didn’t want to delay us, so I haven’t had a pee yet.” She put her hands on either side of her pussy, and angled her hips slightly forward. “Here it comes,” she said, and a fine spray of yellow pee ran from her pussy.

She must have been a bit desperate to go, because it quickly spurted out into a harder stream, and started to spray. “Oh shit,” she exclaimed, “I am peeing on my legs.” She was peeing so hard that it sprayed out in a wide arc, and I could see the pee dribbling down both of her legs.

“I can’t stop peeing so hard,” she said, “it is spraying out everywhere.” Finally, she got her flow under control, stopping the pee for a brief period. When she started peeing again, the flow was much gentler, and just a single stream of piss came from her pussy, shooting straight to the ground between her feet. “Ahh, that’s better,” she said. “It is still dribbling down my legs though. And I forgot to bring any tissues. Bugger, my pussy is all wet!”

“Don’t worry,” I said, “it will warm up soon, and before you know it, it will have dried off. We can have a swim later on, anyway.”

Cathy had finished peeing now, and stood up. She looked down at the large pool between her feet, saying, “I didn’t realise I had to pee so badly. Just as well I went here, I guess, although I am sure you would have loved seeing me piss myself like I did the other day.”

“Well, maybe,” I said. “But I like watch you pee that way, too. You look sexy when you pee.”

Cathy laughed, and held out her hand for her clothes. “I will just have to put them back on with a damp pussy,” she said. “Not the first time I have been damp around you, you seem to have a habit of making me wet.”

“And do you object to that?” I said, laughing.

“No, not at all,” Cathy replied. “I love how you can get me wet, really wet. And I am not just talking about peeing either.” She gave me a quick hug, and put her clothes on.

We continued up the hill, and were now at the steepest part of the climb. Already, the morning was getting warm, and I could see two circles of sweat around Cathy’s armpits. I was starting to feel sweaty too; and I was glad that Cathy wanted to capture the early morning light, and not climb up here in the middle of the day.

Slightly out of breath, we reached the top, and Cathy walked around the clearing for a minute or two, looking for the best angle. Finally, she found a place that she seemed to like, and put her camera bag down.

“This will get the angle right,” she said. “Can I have the tripod, please?”

I took off my backpack, and unstrapped the tripod. I sat on the damp grass, watching her set her equipment up. It looked like she wanted to capture the lighthouse with the sunlight reflecting off the glass at the top of the tower. After setting everything up, and moving the tripod a few feet to one side, she seemed happy.

“Now we just have to wait for the sun to be at the right angle,” she said. “Can I have some more water, please?”

I passed her the bottle, and she took a long drink.

“Phew! That climb was a bit harder than I thought,” she said. “At least going down will be easier.”

While we waited for the sun to be in the right position, Cathy explained what she wanted to do. As well as some photos of the lighthouse itself, with the sun still low, and the light reflecting through the glass, she wanted to get some others of the old stone caretaker’s cottage. For those ones, she wanted the sun higher in the sky, something to do with the angle, and contrast, and showing the texture of the stone blocks. While we were waiting for that, she also wanted to take some panoramic shots of Palm Beach, using a new wide-angle lens she had.

Around 7:15, Cathy seemed happy with the sun and the light, and took a number of photos, recording the details of each in a notebook she kept in her camera bag. She then started to pack the camera up.

“Ok, that will do for here,” she said. “I want to take some on the eastern side, with the sun on the face of the tower.”

I took the tripod, strapped it to my backpack, and we set off again. Once we had walked past the lighthouse, she kept turning around, looking back at it, checking angles or views or something. Finally, we stopped at a rock outcrop, where there was a good view back at the lighthouse. Again, she set up the tripod and camera, and I sat back and watched her at work. She took another five or six shots, and started to pack things up again.

“Not much more to do here until about 11,” she said. “Let’s find a good position to get some photos back towards Palm Beach, and we can lie around until then.”

We headed southeast, pushing our way through the scrub towards the edge of the headland overlooking the beach. After a few minutes of bush bashing, we found a small rock platform on the edge of the cliff, with great views over the beach.

“This is perfect,” she said. “That is just the view I was looking for. Besides, this will be a great place to sunbake while we are waiting for the sun to get high. We can lie down here, and no one can see us. Have you ever sunbathed completely naked? We could do that up here today.”

I took off my backpack, and put in under a bush in the shade. While Cathy set her camera up to take the pictures of Palm Beach, I spread out our towels on the rock, and took out a water bottle. I was now hot and thirsty, and I am sure Cathy was as well. I could see the two large rings of sweat under her arms, and a slightly damp line running down her spine. I pulled off my tee shirt, and it was just as wet as hers, so I hung it over a branch to dry.

While Cathy was preoccupied with taking the photos of Palm Beach, I pulled out my camera, and took two photos of her bent over her camera. “The professional at work,” I said.

“I am hardly a professional photographer,” she said, laughing.

“Anyway, I don’t have many photos of you,” I said.

When she had finished taking the photos, she once again packed away her camera equipment, and sat on her towel next to me. “Phew, it sure is getting hot today,” she said. “Can I have some water?”

I passed her the bottle, and she drank the last of our first bottle. Just as well that we had two others in my bag. She pulled off her tee shirt, and looked at the damp, sweaty patches, before hanging it up next to mine. She then removed her bikini top, hanging that up as well.

“I thought I mentioned naked sunbathing,” she said. “Unless you are too shy?” She stood up, and quickly removed her shorts and bikini bottoms, putting them over a branch as well. “Are you game?”

I stood up, and took of my shorts and swimmers. “But I don’t want to get my prick sunburnt,” I said. “We had both better use lots of sunscreen.”

“Pass it to me, I will put it on you,” she said. Once she had the tube of sunscreen, she told me to lie down on the towel. I lay down on my stomach, and Cathy covered my shoulders and back with the cream.

“You bum is all white, too,” she said. “You had better not get that burnt, how will you sit down?” She then rubbed sunscreen over my backside, and the tops of my legs. It was starting to turn me on, and I was feeling a bit uncomfortable with my prick being caught underneath me.

“Now roll over so I can do your front,” she said. As I did, she saw my growing prick. “Does that mean you like me doing that?” she asked, as she rubbed some cream on my erect prick.

“Oh, you will get some additional cream if you are not careful,” I said. It did feel very arousing when she rubbed me that way.

Cathy laughed at that comment. “Maybe later, if you are good,” she said.

“Now I had better put some sunscreen on you, too,” I said. “You don’t want to get burnt, either. Let me do your backside first.”

Cathy lay on her stomach, and I quickly put some cream on her shoulders and back. Like me, she had a good tan over most of her body, at least those areas that were normally exposed to the sun. But her backside, like mine, was pale and white, and would burn quickly if it weren’t protected. I squeezed some cream into my hands, and started to rub it onto her backside. I knelt on her towel between her legs, which did give me a rather nice view of her backside and her pussy.

I made sure her backside was well covered with sunscreen, and then moved down a little so I could run some into the tops of her legs. Cathy opened her legs a little wider so I could do the inside of her thighs, and every so often my fingers would brush against her bum or the edge of her pussy. I could see her pussy starting to get damp; this was probably just as arousing to her as it was to me.

After a few minutes, I said, “Ok, roll over so I can do your front.”

“Mmm, alright,” she said. “I was enjoying that.”

“So I noticed,” I said. “Now over you go.”

Cathy lay on her back, her legs still apart. I knelt between them, and rubbed sunscreen onto her breasts. I massaged them slowly, gently rolling her nipples between my fingers, as I made sure they were well covered with the cream. She sighed softly as I caressed her breasts, and she wriggled slightly, moving her legs apart a little wider. I could now clearly see her pussy; she looked sexy with her lips starting to spread.

Once her breasts were finished, I scooted down lower on the towel so I could put cream on the top of her groin, where her bikini bottoms would normally cover her. As I did, I leant forward and kissed each erect nipple, even though they tasted of sunscreen. Her pussy was now quite damp, and I could see the wetness glinting in the sunlight.

As I rubbed the cream onto her, Cathy started to sign again. “I love the way you touch me, Will,” she said, “That feels so good.” She had spread her legs apart even more, and her pussy was clearly wet now, and her lips were starting to swell. I stroked the inside of her thighs, letting my fingers get closer and closer to her pussy lips each time, but not touching them. I leant forward, and blew softly on the top of her pussy, where I knew her sensitive clit was.

“Oh, stop teasing me, Will,” she moaned. “Touch me, please, rub me, you know what I want.” Her hands were on her breasts, now, caressing and squeezing them, and she had raised her knees, and opened her legs wide apart. “Rub my pussy, Will, make me come please.”

I started to gently stroke her pussy with my fingers, letting the tip of my middle finger slide between her lips. She was quite wet now, and as I rubbed her, I could easily slide a finger inside her. Even though her vagina was a little tight around my finger, her juices made everything very slippery.

With one hand, I spread her lips apart, and gently stroked the smooth, soft skin between them with the tip of the middle finger of my other hand. I was amazed at how much of her pussy I could see clearly; from the swollen bud of her clitoris, down to the opening of her vagina; and even her pee-hole. She was now very aroused, and as I continued to rub her, she moaned softly. Her wet, open pussy looked so beautiful, and I leant forward, and placed my lips over it, and started to lick and stroke it with my tongue.

Cathy let out a loud gasp as my tongue flicked her clit, “Oh, God, you will make me come like that,” she cried. I continued licking and sucking on her pussy, amazed at just how wet she had suddenly become. I could feel her wetness on my cheeks and chin, and I pressed my face harder against her.

I placed my lips around her pussy and sucked gently, feeling her swollen labia between my lips. I pressed harder with my tongue, licking in long laps from her clit to just below her vagina. I tried to push the tip of my tongue inside her, but it was too tight to get any more than a tiny way in. But that made her produce even more lovely warm juices, I was sure my whole face was now coated in her wetness.

As I continued licking and sucking, Cathy was moaning louder, and then with a cry of “Oh God, I’m coming,” bucked her hips up and down, and pressed her hands against my head, so my mouth was hard against her pussy. More and more warm wetness filled my mouth as she came, and I licked and swallowed as fast as I could.

“Oh my God,” Cathy moaned once her orgasm was over. “That was wonderful, Will, you don’t know just how fantastic that felt.

My back and neck were feeling rather cramped; the position I was in was not the most comfortable. I knelt up, and then lay next to her on my towel, resting a hand on her breast.

Cathy rolled over to face me, and kissed my cheek and lips. “Mmm, that is an interesting taste there,” she said. “I guess that is what I taste like.”

“Yes,” I said, “and there was a lot of Cathy Juice then for me to taste. It was lovely.”

Cathy sat up, and looked at the towel between her legs. Not only was her pussy soaking, but also her juices had run down her backside, and left a large wet area on the towel. Even the tops of her thighs were wet.

“Oh God,” she said. “It looks like I peed myself again. Are you sure I didn’t?”

“No, you didn’t pee yourself,” I said.

She put her fingers between her legs, and ran them across her wet pussy. Bringing them to her lips, she sniffed them and tasted the wetness. “I didn’t pee, but you got me absolutely soaking wet. Now I should do something for you,” she said. “That is twice you have gone down on me, and both times it has been fantastic.”

Cathy sat on her towel next to me, and took my erect prick in her hand. She started to stroke it gently, and then rubbed her fingers around the head. There were already some drops of pre-come there, and she rubbed that around the head. Then, she leant over, and with the tip of her tongue, licked the head. The sensations were so powerful, so intense, I groaned out loud.

“Do you like that?” she asked. “It didn’t hurt, did it?”

“No, that was wild,” I said. “But the head is so sensitive, and it felt incredibly intense.”

She placed her lips over the head of my prick, and started to move her mouth up and down. It felt different to anything I had experienced before, all warm and wet, with her lips pressing gently on the shaft of my prick. Maybe that is what actual sex is like?

She pulled her mouth from my prick. “Was that ok?” she said. “I am not sure if I am doing that right, even though I read the part in that book several times, I am not sure just how to do it.”

“That felt great,” I said. “Not like it does when you rub me, but it was all warm and wet and lovely.”

“I don’t think I can get all of you in my mouth,” Cathy said. “That last stroke, when I tried to get more in, I sort of felt like I was choking. Can I keep trying?”

“Please,” I said.

Cathy resumed sucking my prick, but she could only take a few inches in her mouth before coughing. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just not use to doing that.”

“Just take the top part in,” I suggested. “But be very gentle with the head, the nerve endings are very sensitive there.”

Cathy tried a third time, and concentrated on sucking the top of the shaft just below the head. It did feel wonderful, not intense like the way it did when she (or I) would rub the shaft, but all warm and wet.

After a few minutes, she sat up and said, “I’m sorry, Will, I have to stop. My jaw is getting sore. But I really wanted to make you come that way; I must be doing something wrong. Do you want me to rub you?”

“Yes, that would be lovely, Cathy,” I said. “And don’t worry about not making me come sucking me. Maybe we need to work out the right way of doing it.”

She started to rub my prick, pressing on the underside of the shaft the way I had told her. That was more intense, and I knew she would make me come soon that way. Her hands were gentle and soft, but she applied just the right amount of pressure.

“Tell me when you are about to come,” she said. “I want to put my mouth over you so you come in my mouth. At least that way it will be almost like I am giving you oral sex.”

I made a suitable grunting sound, as I was slightly lost in what she was doing to me. As she rubbed up and down, I could see her breasts jiggling up and down. In less than a minute, I could feel my impending orgasm.

“I am about to come, Cathy,” I warned her.

She placed her mouth over the head of my prick, pressing her lips around the top of the shaft while she continued pumping her hand up and down. A few seconds later, my orgasm started, and I felt the hot surge as the first spurt shot up my prick. I could feel the pressure on the head of my prick as Cathy sucked and tried to swallow my semen, but there must have been too much at once for her, and she had to pull her mouth away, coughing slightly. The last spurt or two covered her hand and my prick.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said. “I couldn’t swallow fast enough, I wasn’t expecting so much! Was it nice that way?”

“Oh yes, that was so lovely,” I said. “Although I didn’t expect you would actually swallow my come.”

“Well, I want to try it, and see just how it tasted,” she replied.

“Thank you,” I said. “That was really, really lovely.”

“Besides,” Cathy said. “I wanted to swallow it all. That slut Jenny Adams goes on about everything she does, but she says that she doesn’t swallow, she just spits it out. So that’s one up on her!”

Cathy then licked her fingers, and gently sucked my prick, cleaning off the remaining semen left on my prick. She took a tissue, and dried me off as best as could be.

We sat back on our towels, and looked at the view of Palm Beach. The trees and bushes next to us shaded us from the sun somewhat, but after all that exertion we were pretty warm. We shared about half of a bottle of cold water, and sat with an arm around each other in silence for a while.

“That was a lovely way to take a break from photography,” I said. “I really enjoyed what you did.”

“Really?” Cathy asked. “I wasn’t sure if you enjoyed it.”

“I did,” I reassured her. “The feelings were like nothing I had ever felt before.” I kissed her on the cheek, and squeezed her hand. “Now, what was it that you wanted to tell me about Janice?”

“Oh, that,” Cathy laughed. “Promise you won’t say anything about this to anyone else?”

“Sure,” I promised.

“Well, you know she and Ron have just started to going out?” I knew that; Ron was about two years older than us, but had been keen on Janice for a while. And I suspected she was also keen on him. I nodded my head in agreement. “Well, yesterday we were down at the Mall, having lunch after looking at clothes and stuff like that. She asked me ‘You and Will are going out together, aren’t you?’ I nodded, and said something like ‘Yeah’. Then she asked me what we did, like have we kissed. Now, I wasn’t going to tell her all that much. I mean, she is a really good friend, but there is no way I would tell anyone some of the thing we do.”

“I feel the same,” I said. “I have always thought guys that tell everything about what they did with their girlfriends were a bit, I don’t know, just like they didn’t really respect them.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Cathy said. “Besides, what we do together is private; just for us. Anyway, Janice said ‘Can I ask you something, really personal?’ I nodded again; she probably wanted some advice on kissing or stuff like that. ‘When you and Will kiss, I mean, really kiss, do you sometimes get wet, um down there? That has happened to me several times, and I was worried there was something wrong with me.’ So that was her big concern – you know, her parents wouldn’t let her attend the sex education classes we had.

“Well, I wasn’t quite sure what to tell her, or how much she knew about stuff like that. So I told her, that I did get wet ‘down there’ when we kissed and hugged. I then had to explain to her that it was our bodies’ way of getting prepared for sex, so we were lubricated and ready for a penis to fit inside us. Well, that just about freaked her out. ‘But we don’t want to have sex’ she exclaimed. To calm her down, I explained that it was a subconscious reaction, and just how the body was programmed to react to things, sort of like how when something scared you, your heart beats much faster. That seemed to make her happier, anyway.

“The she asked me what else we did, saying ‘Do you let him touch you, like put his hand on your breasts?’ If only you knew what we touched, I thought, but I tried to look shocked and said something like ‘Janice! I can’t tell you stuff like that!’ She then said that she wasn’t trying to pry, but just wanted to know what would be okay for them to do. I said that they have to work out between them what they felt comfortable doing; not just do something because other people said they did. She still seemed all confused, and then blurted out that the other night, Ron had put his hand inside her top, and caressed her breasts, and how much she enjoyed it, and how that made her really wet ‘down there’. She was worried that they had done something terribly wrong.”

“I had to reassure her that there was nothing wrong with what they did, and if they enjoyed doing it, they that was fine. I then said that you do the same to me, and that it gets me really wet, too. That seemed to make her much happier.”

“Cathy the sex counsellor,” I said. “Did you tell her what to do once she got home and found herself all wet?”

“Oh God no!” she exclaimed. “Either Janice knows about masturbation already, or she can find it out some other way. There’s no way I would tell her about that.”

I laughed. “I suspect she probably knows; what do you think?”

“I am sure she does,” Cathy said. “But if she can’t work out what to do once she gets home from a date all wet and aroused, then that’s her problem.”

“At least it is nice to know that when I touch your breasts you get turned on,” I said. I reached across and held one of her breasts, gently rubbing the soft skin with my fingers. Her nipples started to harden immediately.

“Oh, you will get me started again,” she said. “And I may not be able to control myself this time.”