Fun in the Back Seat


[Judy is the same girl described in the story A College Tryst; Michelle is the one in the Role Playing with Michelle series.

The Monkey’s Paw café was a real place that existed in the now-demolished Finley Hall.]


During the 1974-75 academic year there was another sophomore at the City College of New York named Judith, or simply Judy. She was a modern European history major like I was, and she lived with her parents on the Upper West Side of Manhattan.

I met her because she was a friend of Michelle, one of my girlfriends at the time. Judy made some moves on me and I, being a callow youth – or maybe just a cad – responded to her. Judy had said then, “We’re both making up for lost time,” referring our completely dateless freshman years and the endless dry spells of high school before that. I was her first boyfriend and she was eager to catch up on missed experiences.

Michelle shared our youthful fecklessness and we wound up being a threesome on several occasions in mid-1975. On one hot Sunday afternoon the two of them had me photograph them in compromising positions up in Bear Mountain State Park. (I still have some of those pictures but I rarely look at them now.) Of course the situation was unstable and it didn’t last beyond the end of the year, but that’s a story for another time.

Judy didn’t look like the wild lady she really was. She was short and a bit plump and had frizzy reddish-brown hair. However I thought she was very sexy and I was enthralled with her during the time we were together.

She could, in her own low-key way, be very funny. One day when we sitting in a student lounge she took out a copy of Norman Mailer’s The Naked and The Dead. She had bookmarked a spot and she said, “He’s got this character in here named Natalie Roth, and as he says about her, ‘nice shy sensitive Jewish girls usually marry and have children, gain two pounds a year, and worry more about refurbishing hats and trying a new casserole than about the meaning of life.’ “

I guessed she probably found this passage both amusing and irksome. I said, “Well Mailer was Jewish himself and so was his first wife I think; he married her before the book came out.”

“I think I’ve heard that. I can imagine her saying, ‘Norman, is this Natalie person really me?’ and he goes, ‘No, baby, it’s all fiction.’ “

“Anyway Judy, you really are a nice girl – you’re especially nice when you’ve flinging your ass around in bed or some such place.”

She smiled at me, “You’re trying to butter me up, I know that’s your idea of a compliment. But really, I wish I could approach him – like maybe at a book reading – and say, ‘Hey Mailer – I mean, Mr. Mailer – you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You should know he tried to kill his second wife. He almost stabbed her to death at a party, in front of other people.”

“Really? Maybe he’s a guy I should stay clear of then.”

The Role-Play

Judy had been inspired by yet another girlfriend of mine (the ’70s really were crazy when it came to sex) to play something we called the “pickup game.” Two people would pretend they didn’t know each other and one would try to pick up the other in some public venue like a bar.

It sounds straightforward because the participants were supposedly playing themselves. However I knew from experience how far off course things could get.

(There was a variation of this where the two people would play characters different from themselves. I would eventually try that too.)

We decided not to use a bar but rather the café called The Monkey’s Paw in the basement of Finley Hall, the student center. Judy would arrive there first and then I would come in and approach her. I had Michelle’s car available for use, a green Dodge Coronet which I had parked outside on St. Nicholas Terrace. If we did get in the car, wherever we’d go and whatever we’d do was going to be improvised. However, as the “leader” in the game I had some options planned out.

It was an early evening at the beginning of October 1975 when I walked into the cafe in Finley. Before she noticed me I got to check her out. She had been going for the “Joanie Co-ed” look for a while since Michelle had introduced it to her in the spring. She had a white pullover blouse, a dark skirt, and black knee socks. I had loved knee socks since my days back at P.S. 82. I admired them for a moment; they may have been cotton but they were definitely thinner than the ones she had worn at other times. The weather that week was still quite warm.

Overall, Judy had a nice combination of sexy and innocent istanbul rus escort going on. I thought that I would have noticed her even if hadn’t already known her.

She hadn’t noticed me yet; she was looking through some papers (a course syllabus?) as she had her coffee. I felt more comfortable approaching her than I had with that other girl in the bar those times. I brought my soda over.

“Hi, do you mind if I sit here?”

She feigned surprise, “Oh sure, go ahead.” The place wasn’t that crowded so she must have understood that she was the reason I picked that spot. By this point in my life I knew not to over-explain things when making an approach.

I was opposite her at the table, “I’m Paul by the way.”

“I’m Judith, or just Judy is fine.” Before I could respond she seemed to have her own lines ready. “I’ve seen you around here. Aren’t you on that newspaper?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“I’ve read your stuff; it’s pretty good.”

I thought of asking her to join (of course she’d already been there for months) but she got another one in. “I’ve seen that girl there; her name is Michelle I think.”

“Oh, yeah, she just became assistant features editor.”

“She’s also a good writer. Is she your girlfriend, perhaps?”

Oh, a dead end already. Was Judy – one of the versions of her – curious to see how I handled this? I didn’t want to lie outright so I said, “Well, we go out sometimes.” That really meant out to Long Island City where we wore out the couch, her bed and sometimes the kitchen table.

Judy went around the obstacle as if reading my mind, “I might be interesting in joining the paper myself.”

This gave us a few minutes of conversation. She said had been a steady reader for the last two years and I described some of the behind the scenes events. I even had stories I had heard about the era before I was at CCNY.

I decided to make the next move, “Are you hungry? Because I have my car just outside; we could get something to eat.”

She didn’t have to think a long time, “Sure, that’s fine. Where should we go?”

“There’s Arthur Avenue in the Bronx, it’s . . .”

“I’ve been there. But I live on the West Side.”

“I’ll drive you home afterwards, no big deal.” That was pretty much expected here. Even if she was going to Staten Island I couldn’t just leave her at South Ferry.

There was usually a fudge factor in every role-play game, a bit of business that was exaggerated and stretched plausibility. Here I doubted that the real Judy would get in a car with someone she barely knew. But she said, “That sounds great; let’s go.”

She was a little ahead of me as we walked out. Her skirt was tight enough to show the curve of her ass. I thought, my Judy is just such a ripe little girl.

Arthur Avenue was an Italian neighborhood in the Bronx known for its many restaurants and stores. Once in the car I wasn’t sure of the route I would take. I drove across the 145th Street bridge and on a whim I turned south on the Major Deegan Expressway. Judy asked to play the radio and she came up with Carly Simon’s “Attitude Dancing.” I thought it wasn’t Simon’s best song. However every straight man in America loved the cover of Playing Possum – and some who weren’t straight probably appreciated the aesthetics of it.

Judy seemed relaxed as we went crosstown on the lower Deegan and then uptown on the Bruckner Expressway. We talked about my family’s roots in this part of the Bronx. A plan came to mind; before we ate, maybe we could park somewhere and see what happened. My disastrous attempt to do this with one of Michelle’s characters came to mind. I would have to be more subtle about it this time.

I considered just going to Arthur Avenue, but I figured if we were sated with pizza and maybe beer we would both just want to go home. The Sheridan Expressway would have been the ideal route into that area but I stayed to the right and kept going along the Bruckner.

My idea was to get off around Zerega Avenue and find a spot among the warehouses and factories. However, I had no idea how to broach this topic with Judy. I just got off at Zerega and started north.

“Is this near Arthur Avenue?”

I wasn’t going to confirm or deny that, “Ah, sort of.”

Her next sentence tipped the balance, “You’re looking for a place to park with me, aren’t you?”

Instead of apologizing I knew to make light of it, “Ok, it did cross my mind.”

“Then find a place and let’s park.” She was making this easy for me, but I liked her own input into kadıköy escort the game.

It was fully night at this point. I knew there was an advantage here over suburban or rural lover’s lanes. Those places were well-known to officious cops, peeping Toms and other nosy pests. In the city there were hundreds of thousands, probably millions of vehicles parked on the streets overnight. If one was discreet, there was no reason for any one car to be singled out for attention.

My times out with other girls had given me the experience to know what to look for. I found a commercial block with a lot of trucks along the curbs. In these cases trucks were your friends. I pulled up next to a tractor-trailer with a flat-front, cab-over design. Judy had a better view into the cab than I did. “I don’t think anybody’s in there.” I hoped so; I didn’t want some lounging guy in there to blow his air horn at a delicate moment for us.

There was another truck just in front of us; this was about the best we could hope for. Now I had this supposedly unknown Judy person to deal with. What kind of approach should I make and how far should I take it?

She helped a lot, “Let’s get in the back seat. The steering wheel won’t get in our way.”

Had she done this before? Off course the real Judy had, many times, but who was I dealing with here? Pick-up games naturally drifted into fiction.

We got out to change seats. I glanced up and down the block but no one was around. Once in there I looked at her pale knees and I had an urge to pull them apart. The real Judy would have accepted such directness but I couldn’t’ do that with a girl I’d just met. I didn’t want to ask about her past and she didn’t ask about mine.

She solved the problem by coming over to me. His kisses were softer and friendlier than Michelle’s. Michelle’s style was more insistent, implying that these were hers to take and she took them as needed.

She asked me, “Why did you approach me in the first place?”

“Let me see – your knee socks certainly helped.”

She laughed at that, “I get that. You know what I often say; look like a good girl but act like a bad one.”

I asked her, “So why did you go with me?”

“You seemed sort of cute – but you’re definitely a bad boy if you park on the first date.”

“I’ll take you home right now if you want, or we can get some pizza instead.”

“Oh no, I can have pizza any time. I want to stay right here with you.”

Her blouse was much looser than her skirt; I started to pull the bottom of the blouse up. I thought it best to ask, “Is this ok? She replied, “Yeah, sweetie, go ahead.” She helped it along by unhooking her bra. First base, that was the old expression for this. Buy me some peanuts and crackerjacks, I don’t care if I ever get back.

As I sucked on her nipples I thought, this Judy is pretty daring. The real Judy had spent a few weeks checking me out before she moved on me. This version was a lot – well, faster. I wondered what side of herself she was revealing here.

I didn’t ask permission for the next step. I put my hand under her skirt and into her pants. By her movements I knew she liked this. I lifted her skirt to see what I was dealing with: Black satin – or glossy at least – underpants.

“Nice panties.”

“I thought you’d like them.” She had obviously planned this.

“Those socks are great too.”

“I know guys love them. Reminds them of their horny adolescence.” She had found that out from me months ago. Then he spoke into my ear, “I’ll get you off first and then you get me off.” This sounded like a completely satisfactory arrangement to me.

For my turn I knelt on the floor and she took my cock out. “Really nice,” is all she said. Her blowjobs were like her kisses, friendly and comfortable. I ran my hands through her frizzy hair.

“Judy, you’ve obviously done this before.”

She stopped for a moment, “Of course, I’m not as innocent as I look.”

When I came she swallowed it all, which she would do periodically.

For her own gig she got up on the back seat and took her panties off. She gave me minimal instructions, “Just move your fingers in an out and I’ll rub it up here.” Then she said, “Please, I need a more. Go down on me.” As I started on her she asked me, “So what else do you like about me?” Now it was my turn to stop.

“Let’s see, you have nice solid legs.”

“How about my bush? What do you think of it?”

“It’s nice and springy, like the hair on your head.”

One thing that was not relaxed about were her kartal escort orgasms. When it arrived she yelled and rolled around on the seat.

Afterwards we were lying half on and half off the seat. Usually we would have something to talk about during this period but I wasn’t supposed to know this version of Judy well. I had assumed that this was near the end of the automobile-oriented portion of this. But she had another plan.

She said, “You’re young enough, I think you’ve got some juice for another round.”

Maybe? I thought about it.

She said, “I’ll help you.”

This Judy knew too much about me for a game, I don’t think she’d do this for just any guy. She got up on her hunches and wiggled her bare ass at me. It wasn’t the smallest ass in the world but it certainly was one of my favorites. I reached to grab her and then I was pressing myself against her as she fluffed me. I had to push her down and lower my head because of the low ceiling.

She sang, “‘And just like a dog I was befriended, I was befriended’ “

What was that from? I tried to remember but then she was saying, “I’m going to turn over if you don’t mind.”

“Be my guest.”

Being on her back allowed her to prop one foot up against the ceiling. As I was thrusting into her I heard her say, “God, I’m going to push the roof right off this car.” I held her left hand with my right and I used my right to hold her hip. I wanted to keep her in some kind of reasonable position so she didn’t bounce around too much and slide off the seat. She certainly didn’t object. In fact, she grabbed my ass to urge me in deeper.

I managed to say, “Judy, baby, this is another thing you’ve done before.”

“I told you I was a bad girl.”

When I came I said one of the usual inane thing people say in those situations. One expression I liked that would usually send me over the edge was “You took your panties off for me!” which I used now. She answered simply, “Of course I did.”

Then when we were done and eventually sitting up again I wondered how to exit the game. Judy was ahead of me here too.

“Look, this is a plausible place to end the roles.” She brought her hand down and said, “Cut!” as if it were a movie take. I understood her reasoning. Not every role-play had to be Mourning Becomes Electra.

She said, “Now were back to normal.


Later we found a sit-down restaurant near Arthur Avenue. We both were in a relaxed post-coital mode. I always enjoyed sitting in a restaurant with a woman and wondering how others perceived us. Judy looked particularly young and innocent in her white blouse. Only I knew what went on behind her sweet face.

I said, “That was – I don’t know, easier than I expected.”

Maybe that didn’t come out quite right but she didn’t seem to mind, “You mean you expected more resistance?”

“I suppose so.”

“I admit it wasn’t realistic. I wouldn’t actually get in a car with someone I didn’t know, and I certainly wouldn’t go in for casual sex like that.”

“Well, it wasn’t really casual if it was with me.”

“No, but it allowed me to act out a fantasy – I did need the real you to do it. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

“Of course not.” Erica Jong’s famous Zipless Fuck, I thought; fun to consider but rarely to be actually done. I was again impressed by Judy’s bluntness, which could rival Michelle’s. But she was also thoughtful enough to ask how I felt about it.

“There was a song you referred to – just like a dog befriended.”

“Yeah, that’s ‘Duncan’, by Paul Simon. You know, he’s the guy who goes to sweet New England.”

“I think I remember it.”

“I’ll sing a part of it for you.”

She held my hands and sang it softly so other patrons wouldn’t hear her. I had heard her singing voice a few times before. It was high-pitched and light.

“A young girl in the parking lot
Was preaching to a crowd
Singing sacred songs and preaching from the Bible
Well, I told her I was lost
And she told me all about the Pentecost
And I seen that girl as the road to my survival”

“Just later on the very same night
When I crept to her tent with a flashlight
And my long years of innocence ended
Well, she took me to the woods
Saying, ‘Here come something, and it feels so good!’
And just like a dog I was befriended, I was befriended.”

I said, “I wonder if that means what I think it does.”

“Sure it does; listen to the rest.”

“Oh, oh, what a night
Oh what garden of delight
Even now the sweet memory lingers
I was playing my guitar
Lying underneath the stars
Just thanking the Lord
For my fingers
For my fingers.”


[The story of the car role-play with Michelle will be described in the next part of that series. Eventually I will also post the story of the “other girl” (her name is Charlotte) and the bar pick-up games.]

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