Catherine Morrow was bored, lonely, horny, and still living in her parent’s apartment on Briggs Avenue in the North Bronx. She was at loose ends, not a good place for an eighteen-year-old woman to wind up. Even her part-time job downtown had ended, or rather she had simply quit it.
Starting at the age of sixteen, she had a girlfriend named Vivian who attended a Catholic High School with her, the nearby Mount St. Ursula Academy. Now, in the late summer of 1973, Vivian had moved on and in fact was dating a guy in her neighborhood up around Mosholu Parkway. By this point, nearly two months after Vivian had left, Cathy would have dated anybody, male or female. However, that wasn’t so easy to arrange.
For one thing, she disliked going to bars and clubs to pick up people, and she had no connections at that time to any school or job. In a few weeks, she’d be at Lehman College, but she felt too restless to wait that long.
She still missed Vivian’s lithe body and light blonde hair. I guess you could say, in terms of lesbian sex, that I broke that girl’s cherry. It certainly was fun while it lasted – I mean, a whole two years!
If she wanted to get another female, there was one place that might work. One hot weekday afternoon, she got dressed to go there. She was a tall, well-built girl with dark hair she wore down to her chin, which was on the short side for that era. Vivian had said it made her look “dyke-y,” which was a sort of an irritating thing to hear but Cathy gave her a pass on that.
On that day she dressed simply in a short-sleeved pullover top and a skirt that came down to just above her knees. For footgear, she had sneakers and ankle socks. She knew she was going to be walking around off-road in Van Cortlandt Park, and she didn’t want to be in sandals for that.
After taking two buses, she got off and walked across what used to be the front lawn of the Van Cortlandt mansion. Then she crossed a small Putnam Division railroad bridge and entered a wooded area west of the lake. A little distance in, there were thirteen stone pillars, or walls really, lined up end to end. The New York Central Railroad had put them up in 1905. Their purpose had been to test various kinds of stone for the new Grand Central Terminal and sixty-eight years later they were still there. They were about eight feet high and offered a degree of privacy to anyone on the far side to the west.
Perhaps Cathy was in luck because there was another girl sitting on a fallen tree trunk against the back of one of the pillars. She made a quick assessment of this other person. One of those pseudo-hippie types; I’ve seen them before. This girl was wearing a sleeveless blouse, a long skirt, and sandals. It was obvious that she wasn’t wearing a bra. I bet she’s not wearing panties either.
Cathy had been with another girl like her in Bronx Park about a year earlier. This new one was shorter and lighter than Cathy, and her long brown hair went down below her shoulders. Cathy wondered, is she here just to enjoy the warm day, or is she open to something else? There was only one way to find out.
She walked right up to the woman on the log and said, “Hi, I’m Cathy Morrow. How are you doing?”
“Well, I’m Sally Breitstein, nice to meet you.” She patted a place next to her on the log. “Why don’t you sit on here and we can chat a bit?”
That was a good sign, and for a little while, they talked about colleges, among other things. Cathy was headed to Lehman College, part of the city’s system. Shit, Vivian is going there too. I’m surely going to run into her there.
Sally, who was nineteen, was already attending New York University, a private school in Greenwich Village. Cathy rather unkindly thought, it’s always these countercultural people who have the money for a private college.
After a few minutes, it was Sally who made the first move, which was a relief to Cathy. Sally put an arm around her shoulders.
“You don’t mind this, do you?”
“Oh no, it’s fine, go ahead.”
They started a make-out session, and Sally continued to be quite bold. First, she lifted her own blouse, and let her small breasts fell free. Then she took Cathy’s blouse up and unbuckled her bra. Man, this chick doesn’t waste any time, which is fine with me.
After fondling each other’s breasts for several minutes, Sally lifted her skirt up above her waist. As Cathy expected, she wasn’t wearing panties.
“Do you mind if I lift your skirt too?”
“No problem at all.”
“I thought so. And may I touch you down there?”
“Please, that’s why I’m here.”
“I already guessed that.”
Cathy did have panties on. Sally removed them for her and then tossed them onto the ground. Soon they had their hands in each other’s crotches, and Sally was not shy about fondling Cathy and then putting her fingers into her cunt.
Sally kept taking the initiative. “How about we try a sixty-nine?
Cathy objected, “First of all, I can never get the timing of those right. Second, since I’m the bigger girl, I’d have to be on the bottom. I mean, all these leaves and twigs are going to get on my ass.”
“Of course. I wasn’t really thinking. We can take turns while sitting on the log. If you wish, you can go first.”
Soon Cathy was perched on the old tree with her legs spread as Sally kneeled between them. Sally’s mouth worked on her cunt, and Cathy was squirming with pleasure. She thought, other women seem to have a natural talent for this. But she had never been with a man for any sexual activities, so she was just speculating.
