The Three Signs - Book 1 - CathyChapter 15: Partings free porn video
After the first month or so of school, memories of the summer holidays had faded quickly. The study workload had increased dramatically, and I was glad I had taken the time to set myself a strict program. With schoolwork, practice for my next piano grade exam, and rehearsals and playing at the Mirage, Friday nights were my only regular free time. After the blow-up with Katey Jackson, I didn’t bother going to the youth group meetings on Sunday nights, which gave me some time to get things organised for the coming school week.
Actually, a few days after that night, as I was locking my bike up at the rack at school, Janice Collins came up to me.
“You really created a stir with what you said to Katey the other night,” she said. “You probably didn’t hear it, but just after you left, several of us started to applaud you. Katey and some of her cronies left in a real snit.”
“Yeah, well, I probably shouldn’t have gone off at her like that, but her whole attitude over the last few months just pissed ... I mean, got to me,” I said, not correcting myself in time. You can’t say ‘pissed off’ to a minister’s daughter, I mean.
Janice laughed, and said, “You can say pissed off in front of me, she’s been pissing me off seriously too!”
“Yeah, well, I normally try not to say words like that in front of girls, you know,” I tried to explain.
“Oh, Will, don’t be so silly!” she exclaimed. “I’m not a prude at all, not like Ros.” Her older sister, Ros, was one of Katey’s chief allies. “You would be surprised at some of the things I have said – and done, too.”
I remembered what Cathy had told me about some of the conversations she had with Janice, and things Janice and her boyfriend, Ron, had got up to. I wondered how that relationship was going, now that Ron had moved a hundred miles away to go to university.
“Ok, in that case, Katey; and your sister too, I’m sorry, really piss me off with their attitude, and ever since I mentioned that I would be playing at the Mirage, she has treated me like shit.” I was relieved to have someone I could unload on. “Their whole ‘holier than thou’ bullshit attitude is just so offensive to me, and as far as I’m concerned, Katey can just get fuc...” I caught myself in time; maybe saying ‘get fucked’ was going too far. “She can just get lost!”
Janice laughed again. “You are still so straight laced,” she chided me. “She can get fucked as far as I am concerned.”
My face went red, I still wasn’t used to hearing girls use words like that, and I was embarrassed that Janice knew I was going to say ‘fuck’ in front of her.
“Oh, stop being so silly,” she said. “I can say ‘fuck’, too, you know, it’s not the first time I’ve said it, and certainly not the first time someone’s said it to me.”
“Ok, I didn’t want to, you know, offend you,” I said. “I seem to have offended enough people as it is of late. I guess I’m not going to be all that welcome at the youth group for a while.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” she replied. “There’s a large, but generally silent group that think much the same as you, but since Katey, Ros and the others in that clique are the more senior people, no one wants to say anything.”
By now, we had walked up to near our normal area, and some of the others in the group were standing around.
“Don’t forget, even if you decide not to turn up for a while, you still have some good friends there,” she said, squeezing my hand, before heading off to her first class.
I guess that was something, but I was resolved not to bother going back to the youth group meetings for a while; besides, it would be one less thing to occupy my time, and I was certainly busy. What free time I had I wanted to spend on things I enjoyed, not things that caused conflict and just pissed me off.
Cathy and Lori were just as busy as I was. Cathy was working most Saturdays with Mrs Francis, either in the darkroom, or helping her on field assignments. As well, she was preparing for the local photography society’s Autumn Exhibition. She had won an award for the photos she entered in the National Parks competition, and they had paid her to use some of the photos in their publications, which pleased her no end. She also had a part time job as a photographer for the Manly Daily; at least a freelance job; they would call her and ask for specific pictures for an upcoming article.
Lori was doing well with sailing, and had steered the school’s yacht to victory in every race so far. She had been selected to compete in some state championship in early May, and spent most weekends sailing both days training and racing. As well, she was on the editorial committee of the school magazine, and wrote most of the articles in the monthly publication.
I was also involved in the upcoming school musical evenings that would be on for two nights in May, just before the end of term. I wasn’t taking a major organizational role; I didn’t have the time for that, but Mike Franz and I had the responsibility for the overall musical quality control – auditioning acts, making suggestions, coordinating with the person doing the sound, stuff like that. As well, I would be in two acts; one with an “English Renaissance Quartet” that Mr Thomas, my music history teacher had put together.
This had meant I had to learn the guitar seriously, and I had picked up a second hand classical guitar, and, once my fingertips had become use to the pressure of the strings, I could play chords and pick out tunes fairly well. Megan Winters was also in this quartet, along with two other girls. We were to dress up as minstrels from the Middle Ages – I thought I looked bloody stupid in my outfit, but more than adequate compensation was seeing Megan in her outfit – a rather low cut bodice, with a corset like affair that really emphasised her breasts. We were singing an old English folks song, “Barbara Allen”, all about lost love and stuff like that, with Megan playing the flute, me on guitar, and the other two playing accordion and guitar. Megan and I would share the singing.
The Mirage gig was going well; as promised, we had our pay increased, and we packed the place every Friday, and people had to book several weeks ahead to get in. The manager had plans to open out the dining / dance area into the other main room, to increase the size of the area. By now, the story about “Brian” was getting well known, and several audience people would call out “Where’s Brian” when Tommy started the introductions.
Janelle seemed to have taken my talk well, most Friday evenings the four of us – and others in our group – would do something; either go to the movies at Collaroy or Avalon, or just hang out at someone’s place. Sometimes on Sundays Cathy, Janelle and I would go to the beach, not with Lori, since she was sailing, but it was just like all three of us were good friends, having fun together. Janelle never suggested we try anything physical, even though Cathy would sometimes make a comment that I should put sunscreen on Janelle, or Janelle should rub some on my back.
One Thursday lunchtime in the middle of the month, Janelle suggested that we go ice-skating at Narrabeen the next night. A bunch of other people from our group were going, and she said we should go as well. Cathy and David both said they couldn’t make it, as that weekend they were all going up to Gosford to help Dianne and Roger move into their new house. Lori had an advanced racing workshop all weekend at some sailing club on the Harbour, and it started with lectures on the Friday night.
“I don’t know about it,” I said. “The last time I went skating there, I kept falling over and I got cold and wet. How can that be fun?”
“You just need someone to show you how to do it properly,” Janelle said. “Don’t worry; I can teach you, it’s not hard at all.”
I couldn’t really get out of it; besides, it would be something new to do. We would be catching the 6:30 bus so we were there when the evening session started at 7pm.
When I got on the bus, Janelle and several others were already sitting up the back, since they got on board at Newport. Janelle had kept a seat for me, and I noticed she had a large bag with her.
“They’re my skates,” she said. “They still fit, just, but they’re better than the hire ones.”
“I didn’t know you were a skater,” I said to her.
“I use to go a fair bit, particularly last winter, but I haven’t been for a while,” she replied.
That was something I didn’t know about her, I thought to myself. Maybe I need to take notice of other people more often.
Once at the ice rink, we lined up to hire skates. Janelle took one look at the pair I was given, and told the guy behind the counter to find another pair, ones where the blades were more securely fastened to the boot.
“Some of those hire skates are just rubbish,” she said to me. “There’s no way you could have skated properly on those ones.”
With a better pair, we sat on one of the benches to put them on. Once Janelle had her own skates – a rather nice looking white pair – she looked at how I was putting mine on.
“No, you have to lace them really tight,” she said, and took out a little hook thing from her bag.
It was like a pocket knife, but instead of a blade there was a small hook that she used to pull the laces tight.
“Now, stand up on them, do your feet wobble around?” she asked me.
I shook my head.
“No, it feels pretty secure,” I said.
“Ok, now, here’s what we are going to do.” She stood up in front of me, and held my hands lightly.
“To move forward, you just angle one foot slightly, like this,” she turned one foot slightly. “Put some weight on it, and push forward, letting your other foot slide straight ahead. Then, do the same with the other foot. Let’s get on the ice and try it; we’ll keep it nice and slow to start.”
Janelle led me out onto the ice, and she stood facing me, holding my hands.
“Just do what I said, take it slow and gently to start with, and we can worry about going faster later,” she said. “Push off on one foot, glide forward, now the other.”
With Janelle guiding me, it was easier than I thought, and before I had realised it, we had made it all of the way around the rink, without a single fall. We started our second lap; this time Janelle encouraged me to go a little faster.
“Faster, faster,” she whispered to me, and then burst out laughing.
“Stop trying to distract me like that,” I said to her, but laughed as well. “Just don’t say ‘harder, harder’, otherwise I will hit the ice harder.”
“Now who’s being bad?” she said, but smiled broadly at me.
We successfully made a second circuit of the rink, and Janelle decided she didn’t have to lead me anymore. Rather, she skated next to me, holding my hand in case I needed the support. I was getting the hang of skating, and after another two laps, felt more confident, and I no longer had to stare at my feet, concentrating on moving one foot and then the other. I was now moving in a flowing motion, and I was able to look around at the others, and talk with Janelle without fear of falling over.
We made a few more circuits, Janelle and I still holding hands, and we were now able to keep up with most of the other skaters. Of course, there were a few excellent skaters, those who must have been skating for years, who could do fancy spins, and things like that, but I was happy enough at being able to get around without falling.
Janelle was suggesting that we take a break after the next lap, and grab a coffee or something, when out of the blue; I felt something hit my legs. I was pushed over towards Janelle, and together we tumbled onto the ice. I ended up on top of her, my face pressed between her breasts. I looked up to see Mark Doyle, looking rather embarrassed.
“Gee, sorry about that, you guys, I was about to skate between you, and you must have moved inwards,” he said.
I picked myself up, and offered a hand to Janelle.
“Are you ok?” I asked her.
“I’m fine,” she said, “My bum’s wet, but that’s ok. Just you wait, Mark Doyle, I’ll get my revenge!”
Seeing we were ok, Mark skated off. I brushed some of the ice shavings off her jeans, and we skated across to the side. Mark’s actions had decided on us stopping for coffee now.
As we sat at a table sipping out coffees, Janelle asked how I was.
“You’re sure you’re ok” she asked. “You’re not sore?”
“No, I had something nice and soft to land on,” I replied. “What about you?”
“I’m fine,” she replied. “Now I can remember some other times with you resting there where it’s nice and soft, too”
“Yeah, but there were two things different, we weren’t lying on the cold ice, and we didn’t have an audience, either,” I said, smiling.”
“That cold ice,” Janelle said. “It’s made my bum all wet; it must look like I’ve peed my pants. It would feel like it, too, if it wasn’t so cold!”
She stood up, and rubbed the damp area around her bum.
“It’ll dry off soon enough,” I said. “Besides, it’s hardly noticeable now.”
When we had finished our coffees, we went back on the ice. I noticed Janelle still had her empty cup, and as soon as we were on the ice, she told me to watch what she did. She skated down to the far end of the rink, and then knelt down as she skated along, holding her cup against the ice, scooping up all of the shaved ice that gathered along the wall. Standing up, she skated faster, coming up behind Mark. In a single move, she emptied the ice down the back of his shirt, and sped off.
Mark jumped up in surprise, and fell over, sliding into the wall. Janelle stood there, laughing at him, obviously telling him she had got her revenge. She skated back to where I was, laughing.
“I don’t think he’ll try that again on us,” she said.
“No, that serves him right, anyway,” I replied.
As we skated passed Mark, he was trying to get the ice out of the back of his shirt.
“Be thankful I didn’t put it down your pants,” Janelle called out.
“Oh, that would be too cruel,” I said to her. “It would make things shrivel right up!”
“Hmm, that would have been even better,” Janelle said, laughing even more. “Not that I know how much he has to start with, it may disappear completely!”
“Well, you’ve seen the effect cold water has on me, so you can imagine what the ice would do,” I continued.
“I can imagine,” Janelle said. “Why does it do that though? I mean, why does a guy’s prick shrivel right up when it gets cold? It’s the opposite with women, well, not exactly, but cold makes a woman’s nipples get all stiff and hard.”
“Cold isn’t the only thing that does that,” I said to her, and licked my lips obviously.
“Oh, don’t do that, you’ll get me all, you know,” she replied.
“Ok, I won’t,” I said. “But to answer your question, about cold and things shrivelling up, I don’t know why it happens, but I think it has to do with temperature regulation of the sperm cells, or stuff like that.”
We continued skating around, and I was feeling quite confident, and Janelle and I would speed up every so often, and she got me to lean into the corners as we went around. Although I really didn’t need the support, we continued to hold hands; it made me feel a bit more secure.
Around eight-thirty, my feet were starting to get a bit sore, so I suggested we take a break.
“Well, if your feet are getting sore, we can call it a night,” Janelle suggested. “No sense in us continuing if they are starting to hurt. Do you feel like a drink from the milk bar over the road?”
That sounded like a great idea, so we took our skates off, and walked across Pittwater Road, and ordered two large malted milkshakes – chocolate for Janelle, and caramel for myself. We wandered down along the grass next to Narrabeen lagoon behind the shops, looking at the lights reflecting on the water. It was rather dark, as the moon had not yet risen, and the row of shops blocked the lights from the road.
“There should be somewhere to sit along here,” Janelle said. “I guess we can always sit on the grass if there isn’t a bench.”
There wasn’t a bench, not that we could find, anyway, so we found a patch of grass and sat down, looking at the dark water and drinking our shakes.
“So, did you enjoy ice skating,” Janelle asked after a while.
“Actually, I did,” I replied. “Being shown how to do it properly made all the difference, and I didn’t spent most of the time picking myself up from the ice, getting cold and wet.”
“Well, except for one time,” Janelle added.
“Yeah, and that wasn’t completely unpleasant...” I said. “My face did end up somewhere nice and soft, not on the cold, hard ice.”
“And I can think of worse people who could end up on top of me,” she said. “But you did well; you got the hang of it pretty quickly.”
“Just a good instructor,” I said.
“Well, thank you,” she replied. “Now, do you feel like going to the beach on Sunday? It looks like it’s going to be a warm, sunny weekend, and who knows how much longer the warm weather will stay. We could meet at Bungan, bring some lunch, and stuff like that.”
“Yeah, that could be good, I don’t have any homework that has to be done this weekend,” I replied. “What time were you thinking of?”
“Oh, I don’t know, when would suit you?” she asked.
“Well, I sleep in on Sundays, but what if we say around 10?” I suggested.
“That sounds good, we can meet at the bottom of the stairs around then,” Janelle said.
We finished off our drinks, and then Janelle started fidgeting.
“Oh, bugger it,” she said. “I should have gone before we left the rink, and I had that huge milkshake, too.”
“What is it?” I asked her.
“I have to have a pee,” she said. “I guess there isn’t a toilet around here, certainly not a decent one, is there?”
“I don’t think so,” I replied. “But it’s pretty dark, and there’s no one around anywhere.”
“I guess I can go here, can you help me?” she asked. I took her empty drink carton, and put it on the ground.
“Where do you want to go?” I asked.
“Oh, just here, this will have to do, I’m busting, I can’t hold it much longer,” she said, her hands clutching her crotch.
I helped her up, and we took a few paces to one side. Janelle unzipped her jeans, and pushed them and her panties down to her ankles.
“If I just squat down, can you get in front of me, and hold my shoulders so I don’t fall back?” she asked. “I already have got my bum wet once tonight, and I don’t want to overbalance into my own pee!”
We got ourselves into position; Janelle had her back to the lake, so her pee wouldn’t run back along the ground towards us. She squatted down, with her bum sticking out, and I squatted down in front of her, and put my arms around her waist.
“Can you also hold the back of my top up?” she asked.
With us in position, she started to pee, and I could hear the loud, hissing sound as it sprayed from her pussy and the splashing sounds as it hit the ground.
“Oh, that’s such a relief,” she sighed. “Shit, it’s really loud, isn’t it?”
“Sure is, and it sounds like you were really desperate,” I added.
“Oh, God yes,” she said, continuing to piss loudly. “I was afraid I was going to piss my panties before you helped me up. But then maybe you would like to see that?”
“Well, it’s too dark here to see that, even if you did,” I replied. I had to admit, though, the idea was arousing. Even hearing her peeing was starting to turn me on.
“Well, I just hope I’m pissing on the ground, and not on the back of my jeans,” she said.
“Don’t worry, I can see where it’s going,” I said. “A good two feet or more behind you.”
“Oh, good,” she said, and gave a final long spurt. “Phew, that’s about it, God that’s such a relief. I don’t suppose you have a tissue or anything?”
“No, I don’t” I said. “I don’t need them; I can just shake myself dry.”
“Oh well, I guess I could just sit back on the grass and let myself dry off; there’s no one around, as you said. Can you help me across?”
I picked Janelle up, one arm under her knees, the other around her back, and moved her back to where we were sitting. She still had her jeans bunched around her ankles, and sat bare-arsed on the grass.
“Oh, thanks for that,” she said. “Although the grass is tickling me a bit! I’ll dry off in a minute or two.”
“I just hope a bull ant doesn’t come along and bite you there,” I joked. “Maybe he will be attracted to your taste?”
“Oh, God, don’t even joke about that!” she exclaimed. “That would be painful, and if I got itchy, how could I scratch the bite?
“Well, did you leave a bit of pee for later?” I asked. “If you feel something there, you can just squirt that ant off. Now, what if he is an explorer? Maybe he might think that he has discovered a new tunnel, and try to explore that?”
“Oh, don’t be gross,” Janelle said, punching me lightly on the shoulder. “Ewww, an ant up in my cunny! How would I get it out?”
“You, what was that? Cunny? I’ve never heard that word before,” I said, teasing her. “But it is a cute description, it makes it sound all wet and sticky and sweet, like honey.”
“Well, what do you want me to call it? My vagina? Or be really crude and call it my cunt!” she said. “But you should know, it is often wet and sticky and sweet, or have you forgotten?” she said to me.
“Well, I have to give you that; I do remember it being wet, and sticky. And sweet, too, as I recall. But that was when, well, it was encouraged to...” I trailed off.
“Well, it’s often like that,” she said softly, reaching down to feel her pussy. “And it’s like that now, too.”
Before I could reply, Janelle stood up quickly, and pulled her jeans back up.
“Sorry about that,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said that, not after, well, you know.”
“That’s okay, don’t apologise, I understand, and well, yeah, we can’t always suppress how we feel.”
“No, we can’t,” she said. “But I suppose we should think about making our way home, unless you want to sit out here all night?”
“Yeah, it’s getting late, I guess,” I said, and stood up. “Hmmm, maybe I need to do what you did earlier, unless I want an uncomfortable ride home. That milkshake has worked its way through me now.”
“So, I’m not the only one who often has to pee,” she said. “At least you can shake yourself dry, and not be at risk of having perverted ants crawl up inside you!”
I laughed at that, and moved over to near where Janelle peed earlier, and unzipped my fly.
“You don’t mind if I watch, do you?” she asked me. “After all, you got to see me go.”
“If you want to, I suppose,” I replied. “You can hold and aim it if you want to, just don’t splash my shoes.”
“Can I? Hold it, I mean,” she said. “That’s cool!”
Janelle stood behind me, and reached around to hold my prick. I could feel her breasts pressed against my back, and she had her head around my shoulder, watching.
“Don’t squeeze too tight,” I said. “Otherwise nothing will come out.”
With Janelle holding my prick, I started to pee. Once the flow started, she waggled my prick up and down, watching the arc of pee move with it.
“That’s so cool,” she said. “All I can do is just spray mine out.”
When I was finished, I told Janelle to shake it dry, just few times to get rid of the last few drops.
“Thanks for letting me do that, Will,” she said. “That was fun, now weren’t you saying how you could sign your name that way? That’s what I would love to see!”
“Well, some other time, maybe,” I replied. “When there’s light so we can see what we are doing, at least!”
“Ok, now we had better get up to the bus stop,” she said. “I’m not sure how often the busses run this time of night.”
As luck would have it, as we were getting near the bus shelter, a bus pulled away.
“Bugger!” Janelle said. “Just missed it.”
We checked the timetable; another wouldn’t be along for another forty minutes. We were about to take a seat in the bus shed to wait, until we saw the person in the corner, asleep. He looked like he had spent far too long up at the Royal Antler Hotel, and by the look - and smell – of him, he had pissed himself. I just hoped he stayed asleep and didn’t catch our bus.
“Maybe we will wait somewhere else,” Janelle suggested.
We walked back down behind the bus shed towards the lake.
“Careful where you step,” I joked. “There are probably two large wet areas down here somewhere.”
“Well, if we have to wait too much longer,” Janelle said, “I will add another wet area on the ground. That first one didn’t include the milk shake!”
We made our way down to the water, and looked across towards the blackness of the bushland.
“I’m getting tired of always waiting for buses to get around,” Janelle complained. It’s so bad at night, or on the weekends, they never run when you want them, and they are always so slow. In another six months I should be able to get my licence, but I can’t see myself being able to afford a car.”
“I will have to wait until the end of December,” I replied. “Over nine months. But with the money from playing every Saturday night, I should be able to get something. Would you be able to borrow your Mum’s car?”
“Yeah, but she works nights most weeks now, they have her in charge of the night time shift at the hospital, so that would rule it out,” she replied.
“That’s a bummer,” I replied. “I will see if I can get a station wagon, something I can carry around the electric piano and amp, and other stuff. Either that or a van of some sort.”
“I can just see you in a surfer panel van,” she said. “Would you put a mattress in the back, have a shagging wagon?”
We both laughed at that image.
“You mean, a ‘sin bin’, that’s a bit more polite,” I said.
“Me? Be polite?” Janelle exclaimed. “I’m more likely to call it a fuck truck!”
“Fuck Truck!” I replied. “Now who’s bad – and you complained about me suggesting an ant would want to explore your ... your cunny!”
“Stop teasing me, you know what I mean,” she said. “Anyway, I can think of far nicer things exploring my cunny!”
“Yummy, yummy, yummy, I’ve an ant in my cunny,” I sang, parodying a hit song of a few years ago. “And I feel like loving you!”
“God, would you stop teasing me about that?” she said. “I should never have said that, just come straight out and called it my cunt! I would have, too, if I knew you would be like that.”
“But I like the ‘cunny’ description, it reminds me of honey, all sticky and sweet,” I said. “Which is just how I remember it, too!”
“Yeah, well if you keep carrying on like that, that’s all you will have to remember of it,” she replied. “I won’t let you even see it, since you poke fun at it!”
“Aww, I’m sorry, I won’t poke fun at your cunny,” I said, sounding very insincere.
“Keep that up, and you won’t poke anything at it,” Janelle said, trying to sound offended, but also trying not to laugh.
“Poke? Poke?” I called out, then reached down and prodded her crotch with a finger. “Is that the poke you are referring to?”
“Well, remember you had your chance last year, and you knocked it back,” she said. “So you’re too late for that now, buster.”
She tried to grab my hand, but I caught her wrist, and kept poking her pussy through her jeans with my other hand. Janelle grabbed that with her free hand, and pulled me close. In an instant, we had our arms around each other, kissing deeply, our tongues touching, our lips pressed hard together.
After a short while we pulled ourselves apart, and both tried to apologise at the same time.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry Janelle,” I said. “I didn’t mean to...”
“No, Will, I shouldn’t have...” she tried to explain.
We both felt embarrassed, and fell silent for a short while.
“Look, I shouldn’t have gone on like I did,” I tried to explain. “I didn’t mean to do that, or lead you on or anything.”
“No, look, there’s no need to apologies, it just happened, let’s forget about it,” she said. “Now, we should see about getting back to the bus stop, we don’t want to miss the next one. Um, can we just stop over here, where it’s dark, so I can have a quick pee? Sorry, but I just have to go again.”
We headed over to where it was a bit darker, and once again I held Janelle as she squatted. This one wasn’t as long, and she pulled her jeans straight up.
“Not worried about being damp?” I asked.
“Well, I was, um, well, I was already wet there,” she said. “Not from pee, either.”
“Oh. Sorry about that,” I said. “I didn’t mean to...”
“No, don’t apologies, it’s just, you know, one of those things,” she said. “You don’t need to pee?”
“I should be right,” I said. “But then, if the bus is late or slow...”
I unzipped my pants, and pulled my semi erect prick out. Janelle held it as she had done before, without asking, and this time held it steady as I peed. After she shook it dry for me, I zipped myself back up.
“Um, I don’t want to embarrass you, but you were bigger this time. Was it, you know, what we were doing?” she asked.
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