The Three Signs - Book 1 - Cathy
Chapter 36: I Got You Babe

Copyright© 2014 by William Turney Morris

Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 36: I Got You Babe - 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.

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  

Every Good Boy Deserves Favour

February 14 - 27, 1976

It was late on Saturday morning when I woke up, still feeling down in the dumps. I looked at the clock next to me bed; 9:30 am. I guessed Cathy would already be on the road; they wanted an early start, getting to Goulburn for lunch, and then on to Canberra by early afternoon. She hoped to get everything up in her dorm room before dinner time. I deliberately averted my eyes from the photo of her on my desk; the fact that it was Valentine’s Day didn’t make me feel any better.

After a quick breakfast, I read through Janelle’s letter. She described some of the lectures and classes, how they had been emphasising cleanliness, hygiene, methods to avoid transmission of infections. All pretty basic, but essential stuff, I thought. Next they will be learning all about patient records, what needs to be recorded, and how. It was interesting reading about her day-to-day activities, the other people in her class, and things she was doing in her spare time. I would have to write back to her this weekend.

Speaking of writing, I needed to get into the next chapter of the story Lori and I were working on. I read through Lori’s second chapter, making notes as I did. Talk about a prick-teaser; Judy was being so ... such a temptress in this part. I looked at Lori’s research notes; copies of maps from a US Highway atlas, with the route highlighted, where they might stop for meals, and overnight breaks. I wondered how long Lori wanted the story to go before the two of them actually had sex. Would she have them sleep in the same hotel room, and the same bed?

I would have to talk that over with her tomorrow. I tidied up my notes, and put them in my folder. Time to get ready for rehearsal; I packed my clothes for the evening, and loaded up the car. When I arrived at Paul’s place, the others teased me about my performance on stage with AC/DC on Thursday night, even singing the parody lyrics “It’s a long way to the shop if you want a sausage roll”.

When we took a break, Megan came up to me, and put her hand on my arm.

“I guess Cathy’s in Canberra now,” she said. “How are you feeling about it, really?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sad, or upset,” I replied. “But what’s done is done, and we can still keep in contact with letters and phone calls. Plus she’ll be back up around Easter, and there will be other vacations, so it’s not as if it’s completely done with.”

“M huh,” she grunted noncommittally. “Whatever makes you happy, I guess.”

After the break, Megan and I sung through some of the new duets, trying to get the timing right. We were starting to sound good with these ones; we would have to revise some of our sets to include them. I had to admit my performance that evening wasn’t one of my best; I guess I really didn’t have my heart in it. I drove Megan and Jillian home, as I dropped them off, Jillian kissed me on the cheek.

“You know, Will, if you are ever feeling lonely, just give me a call, and...” she said suggestively.

“Or me,” Megan added.

I thanked them for their kind offer, but said I would be fine. I certainly didn’t feel fine when I got home; it wasn’t helped by having the panorama of Barrenjoey that Cathy took up on the wall above my desk. I didn’t want to move it, since it was a reminder of good, happy times.

The next day – Sunday – was a hot, sunny day. At least there was a decent breeze, which made the sailing exciting. We finished near the front of the field, but by the time handicaps were applied, we came in about the middle of the twelve boat fleet. Still, it was good fun, exciting at time, and being out on the water with Don and Lori got my mind off Cathy. Once we had finished at the sailing club, Lori asked me back to her place for dinner. Her mother had cooked some Italian style chicken, in a tomato sauce with spaghetti. Chicken Parm, she called it – short for Parmigarna, apparently.

After dinner Lori and I worked on the story; she wanted to know if I felt what she had written for the second chapter was a little “over the top”.

“Is Judy being too much of a tease?” she asked me.

“I think so,” I replied. “Think about it; it’s the first day they are back together, and there’s at least a week to let things develop. Sure, she’s got a history with Phil, but there’s his way of being insensitive, and she’s probably still a bit wary of getting involved with any man.”

“So the part where she removes her panties, and hitches her skirt up, that should go?”

“I think so; you said you didn’t want the story to be too ... well, too hard core. Let me try to write the chapter from Phil’s perspective. I think they will spend at least the first day driving telling each other about their respective lives since they finished school.”

“That sounds reasonable, I think. Anyway, what have you got on this week?”

“We’re playing at Manly Vale Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday; plus practice each day. We have to get stuff in shape for the recording sessions next week. What about you?”

“No much; my period should be starting tonight, so I’ll be taking things easy for the next few days. Do you want me to come with you to your gigs?”

“Yeah, I’d like that; I’ll pick you up, maybe around five?”

She beamed, and leant over to kiss my cheek.

“You can’t perform without your number one groupie being with you.”

We talked a bit more; I gave her a summary of what Janelle had written about. She spoke more about the story we were working on, how she wanted to have it ready for the publisher in two or three months, and asked me to think of a suitable title.

“I want something catchy, but not corny, if that makes sense. I’m thinking about having the two parts of the story; one from Judy’s perspective, the other from Phil’s, printed in two parts in the one book, but done back to front. So the book will have two front covers, if that makes sense. Turn it back to front, and you are looking at the other part.”

“Will we have the same title for both parts?”

“Yes, but your name as the main author for Phil’s part, my name for Judy’s.”

“Sounds interesting, and different; are you sure the publishers will do it that way?”

“It was their suggestion; I initially thought it was just a gimmick, but it makes sense.”

“Now next week, did you want to come up to Terrey Hills for my gigs there? It’s Monday to Friday night.”

“Of course I want to come up and watch you play,” she said.

“That’s going to be a busy week for me; it’s University Orientation week, plus we’ve got the recording sessions later in that week, too.”

“Nothing like squeezing every last bit out of the final week of holidays. Do you want to come sailing with me for the next few weekends? Let me just get a copy of the sailing schedule.”

We went into Jack’s office, and Lori made a copy of the sailing club calendar. She also copied off the two parts of the first chapter of the book. I would have to set up a binder to keep each chapter in, have it properly organized, along with all the notes that we produced.

“Call me tomorrow evening when you know the details for the Miller’s gig,” she said.

It was time for me to head off home, so I kissed her on the cheek, and we walked out to my car. Just as I was getting into it, she grabbed me, and kissed me hard on the lips.

“That’s to thank you for today,” she said.


Monday morning we ran through the sets we planned to play at Millers; during our lunch break Roger showed me a different way of tuning the guitar, what he called an “Open G” tuning.

“You look at how Keith Richards plays a lot of stuff, it’s all open G, and he doesn’t have any string in the first position,” he said.

He showed me how to play a lot of bluesy stuff with that tuning, including “Brown Sugar” and “Honky Tonk Woman”. I was impressed with how much easier the riffs were to play with that tuning, and Roger suggested I keep one of my two guitars tuned open-g, for when we played those types of songs. It was something I would have to work on; there wasn’t time to do that before the gig this week.

After lunch, we finished off the minor changes to the sets that we wanted, so I spent time with Roger showing me the finer points of the Marshall amp; playing through it was a little different from the Fender amp I was accustomed to. By four, we had things pretty well worked out; I had made a bunch of notes on my set list, so we called it a day.

At home that evening, I practiced some songs with the open G tuning. It took a little while to adapt to it, but it was fun playing around. Around eight, there was a phone call for me; it was Cathy calling from Canberra. She couldn’t talk for all that long, but she told me how she now had everything set up in her dorm room, and that she had met some of the others living in the adjacent rooms. Yesterday she had explored around Canberra, and several of them had gone out last night to a coffee shop in the centre of the main shopping area, a place called “Gus’s”.

I told her that I would be at Millers for the next few nights, and she wished me good luck for the performances, then she had to hang up, as others wanted to use the phone. She said she had posted a letter to me earlier that day; she had even drawn a sketch showing how her room was, and included a map of the university campus. It was good talking to her, hearing her voice, even if only for a few minutes. It would be a long wait over the next two days until her letter arrived.

After the call, I phoned Lori, to let her know that I would pick her up around four-thirty tomorrow. She told me she would have an updated chapter ready for me to review.

“Judy’s less of a tease now,” she said. “I must admit, it was fun writing the teasing sections, but that can be used later in the story. It’s given me some ideas for when we are driving places, though.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure if I could be as well behaved as Phil was,” I replied. “You had better not start what you don’t want to finish!”

“Promises, promises,” she teased, before we said good night and hung up.


The next morning I made sure I had all of my equipment in order; I checked the strings and tightened all the fittings on each guitar; the new tuners on ‘blackie’ seemed to be standing up well. I checked all of my leads and accessories, and read through the set lists and tab sheets that I had updated yesterday. Everything was right.

Time to work on some writing for Lori; I finished outlining how I wanted the second chapter to unfold. Maybe I saw the story differently from her; I envisioned the road trip taking it’s time for the relationship between Phil and Judy to develop. There were several days of driving before the big romantic (sexual!) events in Las Vegas; no sense in rushing things. At least that was how I saw it.

I was surprised in a way that Lori was writing a story where the female protagonist moved so quickly, and was so sexually aggressive; quite unlike the way she was in real life. Of course, the writing could be her way of expressing how she really wished she could be? Perhaps it was her trying to experiment with a different side to her personality? I thought about her comment from last night, where she said she might just try out some of the things she had written.

I called the manager at the Terrey Hills tavern, to confirm next week’s gig and to make sure it was all five nights that he wanted me there. It would be challenging fitting that in with the recording sessions in the second half of the week, but I’m sure I would be able to work it out.

Eventually it was time to pick up Lori. She was wearing a similar outfit to what she wore last Thursday night; her miniskirt, but this time a pale orange boob tube. As she slid into the car, I glanced down at her thighs.

“Are you doing a Judy, and wearing a short skirt with no panties?” I asked.

She laughed, and pulled her skirt up to reveal a white pair of bikini knickers.

“No, not when I’m going be out where others could see!” she said. “You’ll have to wait for that experience. Besides, my period started on Sunday night, so, unless you want to see a dangling tampon string, I have to wear some panties. Mind you, some of those moles from the Antler, a little thing like a dangling string wouldn’t worry them.”

On the drive to Manly Vale, I told her how I thought the story would develop; with several days driving for the two of them to become reacquainted. Plenty of time for sexual teasing, I saw things developing slowly, so that by the time they had reached Arizona, they were both ready for the sexual side to develop more. Lori agreed with me, saying she had let herself get carried away when she wrote the first draft of the second chapter.

“That’s why I need you to help me write it,” she said. “To give a different perspective on how the characters develop, how the two of them would react.”

“Or maybe I’m trying to put off the inevitable, feeling embarrassed about sexual stuff; things that I know you are going to read,” I replied.

“Will that embarrass you?” she asked. “I wouldn’t have thought you would be, I mean, all the stuff you’ve done with different women...”

“It’s one thing doing it, but completely different writing stuff down, knowing that you will be reading it, and I’m sure you will give it to your mother to proofread ... How could I look her in the eye, known she’s just read some really hot, explicit description about how I would have sex ... I will have to do that eventually, but it’s a bit intimidating. I mean, how do you feel about writing some of the explicit stuff, and having her read it? It’s almost like telling her your innermost fantasies.”

“Well, if you put it that way, it would be difficult. But I’ve spoken to her about some of my thoughts, even some of the things you and I have done together. The first time I talked to her about sex, it was really embarrassing, but after I had read some of her stories, and I knew she had the same desires as I did, that she wasn’t going to judge me for having the sort of desires that I do, it was easier.

“So don’t worry about my mother reading what you write; the only thing she will judge you on is any bad grammar or sloppy writing. She might even give you some tips on sex...”

“No! That would be even worse! I could never come around to your place again, if she started telling me the right and wrong ways to have sex, and all that ... I would be so embarrassed.”

“You don’t think she would know stuff about sex that you could learn from? I know she and Dad have a pretty active and satisfying sex life, so she must know something. You’ve read some of her stories, haven’t you?”

“I’m sure she would be able to teach me a lot about sex ... I mean, writing about it, not that actual acts. Now you’re getting me embarrassed, I don’t know what I’m saying! It’s just the idea of talking about it with her, and with you there ... It would be like she would be telling me what to do with you, how to make love with you.”

“Well, that might be a good thing, too,” she said. “If you can give me the same pleasure as Dad gives her...”

“Lori! Can you stop talking about it like that?” I yelled at her. My face felt as read as a beetroot; I could feel the burning.

“So you don’t want to know how to give me orgasm after orgasm, so I moan so loudly I could be heard all over the house? You should have heard them after we got back from Hobart; they were at it for hours every night for a week!”

She was making it worse; somehow I knew her parents must have sex; but it just didn’t seem right somehow. I had no idea how she could talk about that so matter-of-factly, so calmly. I’m sure she was doing it just to tease me. Just as well that we had pulled up at the back of the venue; I backed my car into the loading bay next to Mike’s, and we started unloading my equipment.

Having the speakers on castors made it easier; despite being heavier than my Fender amp, it was less effort to roll the cabinet with the amp head on top of it than it would have been to carry the other amp. It didn’t take us long to get our equipment set up; then it was time for the sound check and getting the lights adjusted. We were ready to go; time to grab a quick bite to eat.

“Was I embarrassing you earlier?” Lori asked me. “All that talk about you writing sex scenes, and having my mother teach you stuff.”

“Yeah, just a bit. I’ll get over it, if we are to finish this book, I’ll have to write some scenes sooner or later, and I know both you and she will review them.”

“Are you afraid I’ll ask you to actually demonstrate what you have written?”

“Well, I must admit, I never thought of that. Now that’s going to make me even more self-conscious of what I write!”

“Oh, don’t be like that; I would have thought you would be really keen to try out your love-making skills on me. Why should I be the one to miss out?”

Some inner voice told me I had to be very, very careful just what I said to Lori now. Was she trying to make her move on me, now that Cathy was away? How could I possibly slow her down, without upsetting her? I didn’t feel like wanting to make our relationship more serious than it was. Fortunately, I was saved when Mike came over, and told me there were some guys wanting to meet me.

I recognised one of them, a tall, thin bald guy, Peter Garrett, who was the lead singer from Midnight Oil; who sometimes performed at the Antler. The others introduced themselves as members of the band, Rob, Andrew and Jim.

“We’ve wanted to catch you guys since you played at the Antler the other week,” Peter said. “You really blew the crowd away; just as well we haven’t played back there recently. I hear you were supporting AC/DC at the Lifesaver, too.”

“Was it you, Will, singing up on stage with Bon Scott?” Rob asked.

“Yeah, well, Malcolm had lost his voice, and they asked if I could help out...” I replied.

“That must have been a real buzz, singing with them,” Peter said. “I’d love to be up on the stage with them, talk about energy!”

We chatted some more, until it was time for us to get on stage. I turned the amp up to seven; we could see how it went in the large, crowded hall. The opening set was a huge hit; the crowd was dancing and clapping along with us. Backstage, Lori was waiting with a cold drink for me; I needed something before the start of the ‘Soul’ set; I loved singing the two opening numbers in that set, but they did put a strain on my voice. Just before we went back on stage, Lori gave me a deep, long kiss.

“Knock their socks off, Will,” she said.

Socks were knocked off with the second set, too; after the two opening songs, I had the opportunity to rest my voice. We let it rip on the final ‘blues’ set; even after one encore, they still wanted more.

“The Easybeat’s covers?” Mike suggested, and we launched into ‘Good Times’. Finally, we could get off stage. The guys from Midnight Oil were there; very impressed with seeing us live.

“I hear you are in the studio next week,” Andres said. “Who’s producing for you, do you know?”

“Not sure,” Mike said, “but there’s talk George Young might be producing for us.”

“He’s bloody good,” Peter said. “He’ll like what you’ve done with his two songs, too.”

We packed up our gear, and loaded them into our vehicles.

“Did you want to stop for something to drink on the way home?” I asked Lori. “I’m still too wound up to get to bed; I’ll need to sit and relax for a bit.”

“I would like that,” she said.

We found a place still open in Collaroy; the ‘1066’ wine bar that somehow seemed to have a late closing license. I got us a glass of wine each; we sat down where we could look out over the beach.

“Thanks for taking me along with you,” she said, as she reached over to squeeze my hand. “You know all that stuff I say about being your main groupie, well, that’s just joking around. I don’t expect you to take me with you every time you play.”

“I like having you with me,” I said. “And I like other people seeing you with me.”

“I like being seen with you, too. You don’t mind everyone thinking I’m your girlfriend?”

“Well, you are, aren’t you? Didn’t we talk about that the other week?”

“I know, but I like hearing you say that I am your girlfriend. I know you have other girlfriends, but...”

“We could take things to ... um ... to the next level, if you want,” I suggested.

“We will know when the time is right for that. There’s no rush, it’s like you said with Phil and Judy’s cross-country drive; let things develop at their own pace, and not force things too quickly.”

We finished our wine, and then I drove Lori home. She kissed me goodnight when I dropped her off at her place.

“Same time tomorrow?” she asked.

“Sure, I’ll see you then,” I said, and pulled out of her driveway.

In bed, I thought about what Lori had said to me. I couldn’t understand her attitude to me; it felt clear to me that she wanted something more than just the ‘good friends’ relationship that we had at the moment. There was something holding her back; and buggered if I knew what it was. She had practically encouraged me to have sex with Jenny, Hannah, and Janelle; so it couldn’t be that there was some lingering jealousy. She was the one who told me how a person could have more than one girlfriend at a time, so unless she was deceiving herself, that couldn’t be the issue. I just didn’t know where I stood with her.


Wednesday was pretty much a repeat; except a light review and practice session with the guys at the studio in the late morning; lunch at the Mona Vale pub before packing the vehicles. When I picked up Lori, she had dispensed with the miniskirt, and was wearing a pair of tiny denim shorts. I complimented her on how great her legs looked, she just blushed.

The venue seemed to be more crowded than the previous night; apparently some of the radio stations had mentioned the gig on air. As well as the crowd in the audience, there were two music journalists from the Double-J network there to interview us, and get some information about our upcoming activities. I spent most of the free time sitting with Lori, an arm around her shoulders or waist. She appeared to enjoy the closeness; at one stage snuggling up against my chest.

On the way home, we stopped at ‘1066’ for a drink again, and Lori asked me if I wanted to go out in the boat and go swimming this Friday. She suggested we could also review our latest chapters in the book, now that we had settled on the outline for the second chapter.

“I will love having a day doing sweet fuck all,” I said. “Next week is going to be crazy busy, so a day spent lazing in the sun will be heaven.”

“Good; why don’t you come around for breakfast; no set time, just whenever you wake up. I can make you some pecan waffles, if you want.”

“Sounds like a date; a breakfast date,” I said, and she laughed.

“There will be a time when we have breakfast together pretty much every day,” she said.

I looked at her to see if she said that as a joke; but she looked serious. I was unsure just how to respond; at least I knew enough now not to make some smart-arse wise crack. So I just smiled, and held her hand. I wondered if she was thinking back to her suggestion of a year or more ago that when we would both be at Uni, we could see about renting a place to live close in to the city.

“As I said last night, things will happen when we are ready for them,” she added, squeezing my hand. “By the way, I’ve been checking into stuff at the Alfreds. Wednesday evenings they have a ‘Fitness for Racing’ session in their gym; from six to seven. Once you’ve got time, would you like to go there with me?”

“Sure, but I’m not a member,” I replied. “Wouldn’t I have to join?”

“No, Dad can get you in on his family membership. I’m not a member in my own right, either, but they all know me, and if you are with me, you’ll be fine. What do you think, maybe in two weeks’ time? If you are driving me home from Uni, we could go straight there and then back to my place for dinner.”

“Sounds good; I can put a bag in the car with my exercise stuff.”

“I’ll get to see you all hot and sweaty,” she said, smiling.

We finished our drinks, and I drove her home. Again, she kissed me on the lips as I let her out at her place. When I got home there was a letter for me that had arrived in the afternoon; the one Cathy had told me she had sent when we spoke on Monday night. I tore open the envelope, and lay on my bed to read what she had written.

She described her dormitory room; it was pretty small, with just room for a bed, a desk, some book shelves, a small closet and a washbasin. The bathrooms were just down the hallway. Even before getting all of her text books, the shelves were jam packed. The college that she was staying in – Ursula College – was one of the smaller colleges, with just over 200 rooms. The meals were not too bad, certainly better than having to cook for herself. She had already met a number of other residents; at least half were international students, from various countries in south-east Asia.

She had already explored some of the inner Canberra area; around Parliament house, up to some of the lookouts on the hills around the city, and walked through the main parkland next to Lake Burley Griffin. Later in the week, on Thursday night she would be going to a meeting of the Canberra Photographic Society, to see what they had to offer. She had made two good friends among some of the other girls on her floor; they had gone out for coffee the previous night.

It was good to get her letter; she had drawn a sketch of her room, and a rough map of the university grounds. She even had put in a one page map of the central Canberra area, and put notes on it, showing where things were. I would have to write back in the morning


I spent the first part of the morning writing a reply to Cathy’s letter; telling her about how the previous two nights had gone (although omitting much of what had transpired between Lori and me). I told her how next week I had the gig every night up at Terrey Hills, plus the recording sessions, and I would be out at the University on Monday for the start of Orientation Week, and probably get some of my textbooks then. I drove down to the post office, bought a supply of stamps, and a couple of international aerograms, which were going to be the best way to write back to Hannah and Jenny. I needed to set a regular letter writing timetable, too, since there were now three sets of people to write to regularly.

Thursday night was much the same as the previous two nights, except the place was absolutely packed. I had no idea how the audience could even move; there must have been fifteen hundred people or more packed in the venue. Among that crowd were some of the skanky girls that saw us at the Antler; before the start of our second song, they were up at the stage, their tops off. I couldn’t see if that was all they were doing; but at least no damp underwear was tossed up on the stage at us.

As we were packing up, I asked Mike what the arrangements would be for next week and the recording sessions.

“Can you get around to my studio Tuesday morning, I should have all the details then,” he said. “You’re playing every night next week up at Terrey Hills?”

I nodded. “I need to get there by six, at the latest.”

“We should be able to accommodate that,” he said. “But Tuesday we can go over everything, and I’ll give you your cut from this week, too.”

As I dropped Lori off at her place, she kissed me good night.

“Hardly worth you driving home, only to have you come back here in the morning,” she said. “We should have arranged for you to have slept over here tonight, that would have saved you time. Maybe some other time...”


I woke up at my usual time; had a shower, put my swimmers on, and pulling some shorts on over them. I don’t know why I bothered to wear my swimmers; we always swam and lay out in the sun naked. Just habit, I guess. When I got to Lori’s place she was already mixing up the waffle batter; she showed me the waffle maker and told me to rub each side with some butter on greaseproof paper, so it wouldn’t stick. The waffle maker looked just like a Sunbeam toasted sandwich maker, but the two parts had the waffle pattern in them.

She added a handful of pecans to the batter, and spooned it onto the bottom half of the waffle maker, closed the lid and locked it.

“Now we wait,” she said. “Do you want something to drink? Coffee?”

I poured two cups of coffee while she set out the breakfast plates. The first waffle was done, and she set it out on my plate, and then poured more batter into the waffle maker.

“I’ve got some proper maple syrup for these,” she said, pointing to a bottle on the counter. “You can spread some butter on them, and then add the syrup. I’ll show you how when mine is ready.”

Hers was ready in about a minute, and she showed me how to spread butter on it, then how much syrup to pour over it. We tucked into our breakfast; I had to admit, they were rather tasty. Not as greasy as the usual bacon and home fries that we would sometimes have.

 
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