In the spring of 1981, when I was nineteen, a woman named Miriam Roston moved into my building. At least I initially assumed that she was a woman. In New York, people generally were non-judgmental and left other people alone.

But this was in the East Bronx, not Manhattan, and after about a month, my family started speculating about her. They used terms like “tranny” and “shemale” to describe her, although they didn’t exactly dislike her either. But neither did they go out of their way to socialize with her.

She lived on the fourth floor and we were on the sixth, so I often met her in the elevator. For some reason, she seemed to like me, and we often chatted a bit, sometimes for a short while in the lobby or out in the street.

My family’s views about her caused me to try to assess her more closely, and I couldn’t pin down what her true gender was. She was a bit tall at about five-foot-eight, and she had light blonde hair which I suspected was not its true color. It was usually styled so that it was down to her shoulders and was held in place with a hairband across the top of her head. At other times she tied it back in a sort of ponytail.

A notable thing about her was that I always saw her dressed up to some degree, although she left the building at different times that didn’t seem to coordinate with a regular job. I was finishing my freshman year at the City College of New York, so I had a somewhat erratic schedule as well.

I also noted that she always had makeup on, sometimes a bit on the heavy side, but it made her look attractive anyway. My ability to guess people’s ages wasn’t that sharp, but I thought she was in her early thirties. Overall, at first glance, Miriam appeared to be a nice-looking but mature lady.

Talking to women was not my strongest point. In fact, I was still a virgin, although I was trying to ameliorate that situation. Miriam struck me as good-natured and friendly, and I found that I liked her too. Her true identity didn’t bother me, and she, I’m sure, caught on to the fact that I wasn’t prejudiced against her in any way.

*****

My attempts to find a girlfriend at City College weren’t completely failing, as that spring I began dating a freshman classmate named Jennifer Saltz. At first, it seemed promising because she was the first girl I had even taken to lunch. Yet it wasn’t a completely satisfying arrangement for me, as I wasn’t getting very far with her sexually.

The main thing we had in common was that she lived only about three blocks from me and we sometimes took the subway together to and from school. After three months, it seemed that she thought of me as more of a friend than a lover.

I was pretty naïve about dating relations, and I also wasn’t the most assertive person in the world. In my mind, I had images of hippie girls from a dozen years earlier who would supposedly ball anyone at a moment’s notice, and more recent stories of “punk” girls who were just as loose. Of course, few if any of the female students at my school were like that. The sexual revolution had been going on for two decades but I didn’t see any signs of it within my personal sphere.

Jennifer certainly didn’t fit my expectations. I soon wondered if I was simply a “fill-in” guy until someone better came along. It seemed that I wasn’t bad looking, but I was only about five-foot-nine and I was on the skinny side. My generation was about the last that didn’t work out in gyms as part of our regular routines.

My new girlfriend was on the quiet side, and she was hardly flashy. Her thick brown hair was her best feature. Getting any affection out of her only happened under duress if I pushed her a bit for it.

We sometimes made out at some place on the CCNY campus, such as in the Finley student center lounges or, since the weather was warming up, outside on one of the grassy lawns. Those were always rather restrained activities, and I never tried to go further than stroking her arms.

A few times I took Jenny out to dinner and a movie, and I always had her back home by 11:00 PM. Once I tried to get more forward with her on such an evening. I directed her so that we could sit in a spot under the staircase of her building just beyond the lobby. I attempted to rub her small breasts through her blouse, but she firmly rebuffed me.

I thought she might even break up with me over that incident, but apparently, she didn’t have a backup plan to replace me either. Thus, she never mentioned my clumsy advances afterwards.

It felt like I was still living in the 1950s with that unresponsive girl, and I found it baffling. Merely some mutual masturbation would have satisfied me, but we never got close to opening up each other’s clothes.

Masturbation was the only release I could count on, and I usually did it once at night and often during the day in a campus restroom stall if I could get away with it. Sometimes Jenny was the imaginary object of my intense self-stroking, and she appeared in every possible sexual act my fantasies could conjure up.

I was too diffident to buy porn for myself, but friends would give me dog-eared copies of Playboy, Penthouse, and Hustler that they had finished with. Some of the pages were stuck together; they had obviously ejaculated onto the photos. I admit, I wound up doing the same thing to those publications.

Some hope arrived in June when I was able to pool enough money from my part-time jobs to buy a car my grandfather was willing to sell to me for $900. It was hardly an exciting vehicle, a light-green 1972 Buick Skylark sedan, but I knew he had taken good care of it ever since he had bought it when it was only a year old.

Best of all, it had a generous-sized interior, including its rear seat. Immediately I was imagining having a relatively private place to fool around with Jenny, assuming I could find a place to park it with her.

My not particularly naughty girl didn’t share my excitement about my brand-new used vehicle. Nevertheless, I got my courage together and asked her for a very 1950s-style date, namely to a movie drive-in. There was only one anywhere within an easy drive of us, which was the Whitestone about two miles away near its namesake bridge.

Surprisingly, she agreed to go with me on a Thursday evening. The venue had been “twinned” a few years earlier, but Jenny didn’t seem to care about which of the two available films we saw.  The first was a romantic comedy with Alan Alda called The Four Seasons, and the other was a remake of the 1943 film noir The Postman Always Rings Twice.

She seemed indifferent to both of them, so I chose the latter. After three months with her, I was beginning to think, this girl is not simply quiet, she seems to lack any personality at all.

Thursday evening was warm, and I drove over to pick up Jenny at her building. She was waiting outside the lobby, and she came right up and opened the passenger-side door for herself. I noted that she had dressed up a bit in a short-sleeved yellow blouse, a brown skirt, and brown chunky sandals. I got a peck on the cheek as a greeting, and we were off on our cinematic adventure.

I played the radio as we had one of our usual desultory conversations. But the combination of having a car of my own, the sight of Jenny in her skirt, and my own hormones resulted in some very intense sexual thoughts about my dating partner. Her legs were bare, and my mind kept wandering as to what kind of panties she might have on.

In fact, I got an erection from my thoughts alone, which is very easy to do at such a young age. I had heard that nineteen-year-old guys were at the peak of their sexual keenness, although that was not something I could verify. I was definitely fantasizing about Jenny’s genitals under her loose skirt, a sight I only knew from magazine pictures.

It wasn’t very realistic, but I was hoping to get a chance to at least feel my girl’s private places, maybe even getting some hand action inside her underpants. It did occur to me how pathetic I had become in my quest for the smallest bit of sexual satisfaction from something besides my blanket or my own two hands.

I had never been to any drive-in before, but I decided to park at the far right edge of the lot. I knew that light from the screen would brighten the interior of the car, and I hoped that having no other patrons parked on that side would give us a modicum of privacy. I even had visions of somehow getting into the back with Jenny and maybe going as far as I could with what used to be called “heavy petting” in the old days.

Of course, I failed totally from the very beginning of my efforts. As the opening credits began, Jenny was sitting close to me, but she was not actually in physical contact with the side of my body. I made my first move by putting my right arm around her shoulders and very gently pulling on her. She did move an inch or two closer to me. Well, that’s a good start.

About two minutes later, I shifted my arm down her back and tried to get my hand near her right breast. She wasn’t particularly bosomy, but it seemed like I had a chance to at least touch something. Briefly, I thought, here it is, the 1980s, and I’m still thinking in outdated terms like above the waist and above the clothes.

It might as well have been 1954 from Jenny’s reaction to my tentative probing. She slid, or jumped it seemed, across the bench seat so that she was against the door. My arm flopped onto the cushion.

“Just what the hell do you think you are doing?”

I had learned that even if caught in an act with some wrongdoing, I should just lie about it anyway. “Ah, nothing really, I mean I wasn’t trying to do anything in particular.”

“It’s so obvious, you must think I’m really dumb.”

I came up with an irrelevant statement. “I never thought you were dumb.”

I knew enough not to apologize, yet I felt my face warming up with embarrassment. I hoped that she would say something else to at least give us a chance for some further communication, but she said nothing. Perhaps she wanted to get more comfortable because she moved away from the door a bit so she wasn’t sitting on the very edge of the seat.

We sat there, each of us staring at the screen and not saying anything. Jenny had her hands folded in her lap, and I had mine loosely resting on the steering wheel. Then, early in the movie, a scene was shown that made me regret having picked that particular film for the evening.

That scene, of course, was the steamy sexual tussling of Jack Nicholson and Jessica Lange. At first, she seemed to be resisting him, but then she knocked the bread and dough off her kitchen table and taunted him by breathlessly saying, “All right, come on, come on.”

Bad boy Jack responded with some very direct foreplay, getting on top of her and putting his hand under her dress. There were close-ups of him rubbing her pussy through her panties. Wow, she has white garter straps; I’ve never seen those before. In fact, the whole sequence was more explicit than anything I had ever seen, including what was in Hustler magazine at the time.

Lange, as Cora, obviously liked it, because she put her own hand down to guide him, and she got her cute little waitress shoes around his back. My God, they’re going to fuck right there on the table!

My miscalculation was that Jenny, only being human, would respond to this cinematic hotness with some interest of her own. Without planning ahead, I put my right hand down and held her bare left knee.

That time she slapped my hand and jumped away again. “Stop that! Just because of what’s going on up there doesn’t give you the right to touch me.” Before I could respond, she continued, “Why did you take me to see this anyway?”

I thought I had ironclad excuses. “You could have picked the other one. And I didn’t even know what was in this.”

“You’re completely missing the point. You wanted to get your hand into my pants like he was doing with her.”

She had known exactly what I hoped to do. I said another irrelevancy. “Jenny, you and I have been going together for three months.”

“So what? That doesn’t give you the right to do anything dirty to me. Just keep your hands to yourself.”

What an annoying prude this skinny little twat is. My thoughts were not generous, but I was feeling anger as well as embarrassment. Meanwhile, on-screen, Lange had changed position and was coupling with Nicholson by getting on top of him. Why can’t I meet a woman as eager as that one? And it’s supposed to be the 1940s!

I offered a conciliatory gesture. “We could just leave now if you wish.”

“No, since we’re already here, I want to see what happens next.”

What could top what we were witnessing right then? But we stayed, gazing out through the windshield until the movie’s tragic conclusion. I was determined to say nothing until Jenny said something first but she never did. We drove all the way back to her building before I finally relented, “I’ll go upstairs with you.”

All I heard was, “Never mind,” and she got out, leaving the door open. I leaned over to close it and I watched her enter her lobby. “You could have closed the door.” Then I said more out loud what I hadn’t dared to say in person. “I know how horny girls get too. And I know you’re going to masturbate tonight imagining that you are Cora.”

That wasn’t too comforting, because assuming that I was correct, Nicolson would likely be the object of her desire, not me. It didn’t matter, I knew, because I was going to masturbate myself when I was in my own bed.

At home, that night, I did it twice, thinking first of Jenny and then Lange. It felt great, but then I had that post-jerk-off letdown of realizing that my fantasy ladies were there only in my head.

 ******

The next day, a Friday, I called Jenny’s number and left a message with her older sister. Not surprisingly, I heard nothing back from her that day.

I was too proud to call again the next day, and I was resigning myself to experience my first breakup. It wasn’t that I was losing that much. Jenny was in one of my classes, which is where I had met her, but the semester would be over in two weeks.

In the early afternoon of Saturday, I was coming out of my building with no particular destination in mind when I met Miriam coming in. She was nicely dressed in a white dress with a flowery pattern, nylon stockings, and blue medium-heeled shoes. Her hair was in its ponytail configuration, and her blonde bangs fell over her forehead.

“Hey Jeff, how are you doing today? You look a bit down right now.”

I had been almost unconsciously pondering Miriam for a few weeks, and I could detect her warmth and openness. I was beginning to like her in the same way she liked me. Thus, I blurted out an answer. “To tell you the truth, I’ve been having some romantic problems recently.”

She responded with interest in my situation. “It must be that girl from your school I’ve seen you with, right?”

“Yes, that’s her; her name is Jenny. Something specific happened this week with her and I think she’s broken up with me.”

She wanted to hear about it. “If you like, come up to my place and we can talk about it over some coffee.”

I managed to say, “Actually, I’m a tea drinker.”

“So, I have tea too.” I must have been standing there looking confused, because she said, “Jeff, unless you have something planned, I meant right now.”

“Oh sure, I was just mulling over…” I didn’t know what I was mulling, so I followed her back inside.

In the lobby and the elevator, we talked about how I had met Jenny and how we sometimes shared the commute down to the college. I was close enough to catch the scent of Miriam’s perfume. I also noted that she had breasts that were not that large but were certainly bigger than what Jenny had.

In her kitchen, she heated up some water and made instant coffee for herself, and a cup of tea for me. Then, she sat opposite me at her table. It was the first time I was that close to her for more than a minute or so, and I tried to assess who she really was.

Her makeup and hair were very nicely done, but I did pick up on a few anomalies I hadn’t noticed before. It was subtle, but there was a bit of huskiness in her voice. He dress had short sleeves, and her hands and arms appeared stronger than I had seen in most women.

Yet it was the content of our conversation that got most of my attention. I was completely honest in describing what had happened in the car and what we had seen in the movie.

“I haven’t seen it yet, but I’ve heard about what Nicolson and Lange do – or at least the outlines of it.”

I decided to be blunt. “The most explicit shots show him rubbing, well, rubbing her crotch through her panties.”

“And you, of course, tried to do the same with this Jenny.”

“She was wearing a skirt, but I didn’t just grab her. All I did was put my hand on her knee.”

“Which failed, I imagine.”

I wasn’t sure why I was confiding my experiences to this person. Somehow, while I was feeling lonely and bereft, it seemed that Miriam was the only one I knew whom I could trust with my story.

She looked away for a moment to think, then she gently patted my hand as I rested it on the table. “Jeff, honey, I want you to know that you’re a very cute guy, but you don’t know a thing about nineteen-year-old girls. They don’t know what they’re doing any more than you do, but in a different sort of way.”

I caught that she had called me honey, but I was also baffled by her statement. “What is it that I’m supposed to know?”

“You can’t be intimidated by them, because they think they are at the peak of their attractiveness.”

Well, I’m at a peak of sorts too. I come out with, “Maybe this Jenny is just a lost cause.”

She laughed at that, “That’s the right attitude!”  

A couple of minutes later, she said, “Say, Jeff, I have seen that car you’ve got now.”

“A Buick Skylark, not too exciting, I know.”

“But the thing is, I’ve never been to a drive-in. The Whitestone is the only one I know anywhere near here.” I knew what was coming next. “I was wondering, why don’t you take me to see a movie over there?”

Was she offering a date with me or just a friendly outing? I speculated that the former was more likely, but I didn’t know how to handle the situation. I didn’t want to refer to her age or gender status, so I said something about myself. “I’m a little too young for you, aren’t I?”

But she took it very well despite the implication that I knew what she had intended. She made a scoffing motion. “Please, I think you need some advice from a mature woman.”

But you’re not a woman. Well, maybe you’d like to be one or, deep in your psyche, you believe you already are. She was smiling at me, and I noted her red lipstick; I could imagine how my cock would feel if it was in her mouth.  I’m not gay or bisexual, I thought, but there is something appealing, even attractive about this person.

That fit into an idea I had never expressed to anyone before, namely that sexuality is as much an emotional phenomenon as a physical one. Maybe I wasn’t as straight as I had assumed.

She put her hand on mine again, and that time she pressed down lightly on it. “I’m not trying to make you feel uncomfortable; you can do what you think is best.”

I had already made up my mind. “No, I’m fine with it. When would you like to go?” I must have sounded convincing; I had even convinced myself.

“Anytime that’s good for you. Let’s exchange phone numbers.” There was a notepad on the table and we both took sheets. When Miriam was done writing, she winked at me and said, “Don’t worry, this going to be a lot of fun!”

Later, I had the insight that she might be lonely too. And, the effort she put into her gender role must have been considerable. But she didn’t seem like the complaining type.

 ****

I called Miriam later that week and invited her for that Friday. We met in her apartment, but we didn’t linger there. My car was a couple of blocks away and we walked over to retrieve it.

She was wearing clothes that I had never seen before. Her white dress was decorated with red cherries, of all things. The rest of her outfit was coordinated with a red belt, a red hairband, white shoes, and nylon stockings. She also had an open white sweater, so I couldn’t see what kind of sleeves the dress had.

She’s dressed up for me, obviously. Then I wondered about the cherries. Was that some kind of reference, maybe unintentional, to my inexperienced status?

I played the radio in the car again, but it was an entirely different kind of experience than I had with Jenny the previous week. Our conversation was relaxed yet animated, and we talked about music and also about some of my experiences in life. As I had thought during our coffee/tea date, I again had positive impressions of her. She seemed kind, sweet even, and also completely genuine. I wondered again what she saw in me.

That time I chose the Alan Alda comedy, although I soon found out that Miriam was not on that trip to see a movie. Since we were in the opposite lot, I parked on the far left side that time.

Soon after the opening credits rolled, Miriam moved closer to me and said in a low voice. “What is it that you wanted Jenny to do to you in this car?”

I said the truth. “I was kind of wishing she’d take my cock out and rub it.”

“I’ll do that right now if you wish.”

I went for it. “Yes, I’d like that. Go ahead.”

She looked around the area outside the car. “It’s kind of bright in here, with the screen and all. We need to be discreet; I’m just going to unzip your pants.”

I admit, the thought was exciting. “Please Miriam, do that.”

“Okay, baby, here goes.” She undid the zipper, then put her left hand down to take my cock out. It was already fully erect, and she very gently rubbed it from top to bottom and back again. It felt so good that I groaned with pleasure.

“Oh, you bad boy. You go on a date with a nice lady like me and you’re already having dirty thoughts about her.”

I replied with something like, “I can’t help it.”

“That’s okay, I know how keen young men are for some, call it satisfaction. Here, let me show you some things about myself.”

She lifted the side of her dress so that I could see her left hip. Her underthings were intriguing: a black garter and straps clipped to her stocking, and very sheer, virtually transparent red panties.

“I’ve never seen anyone wearing a garter before.”

“They are so nice, they make me feel very sexy.” Then she said to me. “Jenny didn’t allow you into her panties, but you can get into mine if you want to.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“Of course, I just said so, didn’t I?” But she was joshing with me. She spread her legs somewhat and I put my right hand under her dress and into her panties.

I found what I had expected, which was a rather large and very stiff cock. But I didn’t pull my hand away; instead, I stroked her in the same way she had stroked me.

She said, “I don’t believe you are surprised, are you?”

“Okay, no, I’m not surprised, that’s true.”

 My efforts on her were appreciated. “Jeff, that feels just perfect.”

I was in a jocular mood. “I should know, I’ve done it to myself often enough.”

“You got that right, baby!”

I dared a joke with her. “Miriam, you’re a rather bad lady yourself.”

“Yes, I can be very naughty at times, especially when I’m with a nice young gentleman such as yourself.”

I had never been praised by anyone in that way before. To refocus my mind, I considered that Miriam had a sense of humor that Jenny seemed to completely lack. The expression on her face was some combination of a come-hither look and a leering smile. I’d have been attracted to anybody who looked at me like that. She was certainly having fun herself that evening, as she had predicted.

Then she looked around the lot again. “Jeff, if we’re going to take this any further – well, I know they used to call drive-ins ‘passion pits,’ but there’s not a lot of privacy in these places.”

“Then let’s go back to your place.”

“No, I want to fool around in the car. I’ve never done that before.”

“Neither have I.” I hadn’t planned to go elsewhere, but an inspiration struck me. “I know somewhere we could go, it’s not far away.”

“That’s great. I guess I’ll catch this movie some other time.”

I had read a review of the film. “I suspect you’re not missing much.”

After I had unhooked the speaker from the upper door frame, I drove out of the lot. As I turned the radio on, we were both, I think, feeling silly and nervous at the same time. I said, “That was certainly the fastest movie experience I ever had.”

“Tell me, if you could have done it, what did you really want most from Jenny that night?”

It took me a moment to answer, “Well, in my dreams I wondered what it would be like if she went down on me, you know…”

“You have never been blown before, I take it.”

“Is it that obvious with me?”

“Don’t feel bad, we all have to start somewhere.”

At about that point, Miriam took her sweater off. Her dress was held up with red straps, but otherwise, her shoulders were bare.

I commented, “I see you’re color-coordinated tonight.” I didn’t mention the symbolism of the cherries.

“I wanted to look pretty for you.” She moved next to me and put her left arm around my shoulders. “Did I do okay with that?”

“Yes, Miriam, you did it just right. 

Our destination was just inside the southern border of Pelham Bay Park. There was a structure called Rice Stadium which, despite its name, was merely a sort of concrete grandstand. I drove into a parking lot, passed an abandoned Chevrolet sedan against an end wall, and parked around the corner in front of the seats. There was enough light from lampposts in the park for us to see each other.

“This is the best I could think of on such short notice.”

“It’s going to work just fine, I’m sure.” She still had her arm around me. “Jeff, is it all right if I kiss you?” She was so polite.

“Sure, go ahead.”

Her lips on my mine seemed quite tentative. I encouraged her. “You can do it harder than that if you want.” I had the revelation that I needed affection from somebody, and what that person had between her legs was irrelevant.

Miriam kissed me all over my face. Then she said, “My, I’ve left a lot of lipstick on you.” 

“You certainly kiss better than Jenny ever did.”

She laughed at that. “I should hope so!” Then, “We can do more, but I think we should get into the back seat. Are you ready to deal with that?”

I considered her offer. “Yeah, I’m in an experimental mood. What are you planning to do?”

“An experimental mood! I like that.” Then she said, “You fantasized about Jenny blowing you; you did say that. When you get back there, sit on the seat and I’ll kneel in front of you. Got that? ”

What the hell, let’s find out about this already. All I said was, “Let’s go.”

We went out our respective doors and returned through the back ones. The first thing she did back there was say, “Here, I’m going to refresh my lipstick.” It seemed touching that she cared enough to do that for me. Then she said, “May I undo your pants?” She was kneeling on the floor in front of me.

I knew that I was crossing some line then, but I said, “Yes, go ahead.”

She unbuckled my trousers as I sat there and I helped her pull my pants and underwear down to my knees. My cock was fully erect and it sprang out and up. Miriam seemed to hesitate as she assessed me. “Jeff, you have a beautiful cock, did anyone ever tell you that?”

“No one has ever seen it except me, at least not when it’s fully stiff.”

“A doctor grabbing your balls and telling you to cough doesn’t count. Listen, a blow job requires some subtlety. It’s not like it appears in Deep Throat. ”

“I’ve never seen that movie.”

“Well, I have, once. What I mean is that it shouldn’t just be shoved into one’s mouth. I’ll show you, right now, what you need to know.”

“Miriam, I’m suddenly feeling a little nervous, and not just because . . .” I left the rest unsaid.

“I’m feeling a little nervous myself, but I’d say your erection gives away what you truly want.”

As she looked up at me I noted the light blue eye shadow on her lids. “Did you ever masturbate imagining Jenny doing this to you?”

“Of course, but I admit, I’ve never thought…”

“About me? I’m sure you will after tonight!”

My final decision point was: she’s been kind to me, she’s freely offering me sexual pleasure, all of that counts for a lot. And she was indeed subtle. The first thing she did was rest her left hand on my bare hip and use a finger of her right one to gently rub the length of my cock. I shuddered and said something like “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed. Your Auntie Miriam knows what she’s doing.” We both laughed at that. Then she put her mouth forward and began kissing the tip of my glans. In an instant, I put my bands up and began running them through her blonde hair.

Her gentle mouth was on more of me, and then she was kissing and licking the length of my erection.  She got her left hand under me to squeeze my backside while she held my cock with her right one. She stopped long enough to say, “If I touch you back there, you will come harder and faster that way. I know what young guys need for their pleasure.”

I managed to say, or maybe gasp, “That’s certainly true.”

She was very thorough yet careful with her blow job. By the time she was sucking on me, I was trying to keep my voice down but I was babbling various things as I felt my body quivering. Oh, this is everything I had hoped for.

I soon put my hands down on the cushion so I could lift myself off the seat. That way I could supply some thrusting motions of my own. I know I said things that weren’t particularly nice but I was beyond caring at that point. “God, you suck dick like a pro,” as if I would know anything about that.

I did know what an approaching orgasm felt like, that was for sure, and I wondered how she would handle my ejaculations. That was her call, and as I shot off several times into her mouth I said something rather ridiculous, “You good girl, you’re swallowing all of my cum!”

She kept working on me until I was drained – actually, she kept going to completely clean off my cock.  Then I pulled out and fell back on the seat. As she looked at me, she licked her lips and gave me one of her wonderfully lascivious smiles. “Hm, I just love the taste of a young man’s cum. Yours is so hot!”

She came up and sat next to me. “Would you like to taste yourself on me? 

I was able to say, “I’ve tasted myself before.”

“Yes, but not on someone’s lips.” She kissed me hard, and I tried to grasp that this event was the first time that someone had given me an orgasm besides myself.

After a little while cuddling on the seat, she said, “It’s only fair that you reciprocate, you know.” Maybe I looked doubtful, because she continued, “Look at me, I’ll give you some incentives.”

Miriam undid the straps of her dress. It fell forward, and I saw that she wasn’t wearing a bra. From their shape, I guessed that her breasts were implants, but I could find out the truth some other time. Then she lifted her dress above her waist. “Jenny didn’t drop her panties for you, but I certainly will.” She lowered them below her knees, and her erect cock jutted out. She put on a mock shocked look and said, “Wow, a big dick. Who would have imagined that?”

I laughed at that; Miriam knew that there was a lot about sex that was very funny. I said, “You’re already erect, I see.” My estimate was that her cock was bigger than mine.

“Of course, I always am after blowing a young man.” She sat on the back seat, except she was more perched on the edge than I had been. I saw that she had no pubic hair; in fact, her entire body, except for the top of her head, appeared to be hairless.

“Here, I’m doing to leave my pretty red panties on the seat here, which I know always excites guys who see them. Okay, kneel on the floor like I did. Now, you’ve never tasted a cock before, you’ve admitted that.”

“Actually, I’ve never tasted a cunt either.”

“I have, I mean I’ve tasted both.”

I considered what she had meant. So she’s both bisexual and transgender?

She said, “I can tell what you’re thinking and, yes, it’s true. I’ve sort of won the trifecta, haven’t I?”

I liked the way she had put that. “Maybe I have too?”

“Then, please, kneel there and do as I did to you.”

When I was down there, I improvised something. First, I kissed each side of her hips, right where they met the tops of her thighs. “Nice move, Jeff, I appreciate that!”

It turned out that a clean cock doesn’t have much of a flavor, but the effect of licking and kissing Miriam’s had an instant effect on her. She moaned and ran her hands through my hair, just as I had done with hers. I was fascinated with the idea of giving that kind of pleasure to another person.

I also tried out another one of her techniques; I held the top of her left ass cheek and fondled it. Her flesh was smooth and solid. That worked well too. “Jeff, you are just a natural-born cocksucker!” For a moment I considered how that was often the worst insult one could use, but from Miriam, it was high praise indeed.

When I got into the sucking part of the act, she put her shoes up on the cushion and spread her legs further. “That’s it, you only need to take about half of it in. You are a very good student!” 

Despite my lack of experience, it seemed obvious when she was approaching her orgasm. I thought I could feel her cock throbbing, although maybe I imagined that. Her movements left no doubt. Just as I had done when I was being sucked, her thrusting into my mouth became more intense and her hand movements on my hair were frantic.

I gripped her behind tighter. For a few seconds she was groaning – like, “Oh, oh, oh!” – then she said, “I’m going to come, oh, I’m really going to come!” Not particularly original, but I was finding out that what people said during sex was not necessarily important or even coherent. After that, she made a very loud cry.

As she held my head, I figured that I was obligated to swallow all of her cum – or at least try to do it. In a moment, I felt it jetting out of her and my mouth filled with the warm, sticky, bland-tasting fluid. It seemed similar to my own cum – I guess it’s always the same – but the amount was far beyond what I had expected.

I glanced up at her face; her mouth was open and her head was thrown back. Despite my resolution to handle all of it, some cum leaked out around her cock and started to drip down my chin. I doubt she even noticed because she continued to pump into my mouth as something like cooing noises came out of her throat.

It seemed that I should also keep sucking on her until she was completely done. When she was, she fell back on the seat. I got up next to her, and I also took out a handkerchief to blot up the stuff on my chin.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t swallow it all.”

Miriam was trying to catch her breath. She patted my arm, “That’s no problem; you were truly wonderful.”  We sat there with our arms around each other. I liked the feel and aroma of her hair against my nose.

Then she said, quietly, “I’m sure you’d like to get your cherry busted at some point. I don’t mean tonight, of course.”

I knew what she meant and how it would be done. So I had been correct about the pattern on her dress. “I have no idea of how to do that.”

“Well, I certainly do.”

“Does that even count?”

“It depends on how you look at it.” She then topped herself. “Perhaps you’d like to also, you know, reverse the situation. I know how to do that too.”

I wasn’t sure what I thought of that, but perhaps she did. “You don’t have to decide now. But, just saying, I would reach around to your front and we could both come. You’d be surprised at what people find out they like when they try it.”

Some intuition told me to ask her, “Okay, like what else, for example?”

“Well, like you’ve never spanked a girl and seen that she likes it so much that she wants to bang you on the spot. You’re such an innocent person, that must be a revelation to you.”

“I admit, it’s all news to me. I wonder if that would have applied to Jenny.”

“Hah, I’d like to see you try it! But from what little I know of her, she probably has some kinks that she won’t even admit to herself.”

Around then, the reality outside the car started to come back to me. I thought of the houses, beyond the back of the grandstand, on the other side of Watt Avenue. “It’s a good thing some mook didn’t come past here in the last hour or so.”

She replied, “I don’t care; we would have given him quite a show to see.”

I looked at my watch. “Miriam, we really should get out of here now. But it’s only 10:30; we should go have drinks somewhere. I’d have to drop the car off first; I’m a bit of a stickler about that kind of thing.”

“That’s good, because I should also change my clothes to something – ah, something less flamboyant.”

On the way back, she sat pressed up against me. I turned on the radio and it came on in the middle of a song. Miriam started to sing along with it. “ ‘It's a bitch girl, and it's gone too far, 'cause you know it don't matter anyway. Rich girl, say money, but it won't get you too far, get you too far’ ”

I was trying to drive the car while gawking at her at the same time. She noticed that I was looking and stopped singing. “Oh, I didn’t quite realize what I was doing.”

“I could tell that. But, actually, you do sing pretty well. Anyway, I think this is about Patty Hearst.”

“She got paroled a couple of years ago, you know.”

“Yes, as the song predicted would happen.”

As we arrived back at our building. I said, “I’m going to find someplace to park this thing while you are upstairs. It doesn’t seem like a good idea to see my family right now.”

“Where did you tell them you were going?”

“To the movies, but not a drive-in.”

She smiled. “And not with me, obviously.” I did not know how to respond to that. She winked and said, “Ring my intercom when you come back. I’ll call a car service before I come down. First, however. . .” She opened her bag and took out the sheer red panties she had been wearing. “You can keep these as a souvenir.”

“I was wondering where those had gone. But then you won’t have them.”

“It’s no problem, that’s why I offered them.” She lowered her voice, even though no one could overhear us in the car. “You can masturbate into them if you please.”

I must have looked askance at her, because she said, “As you must know by now, I’m a bit, let’s call it unconventional.”

“So am I, apparently. I’m trying to imagine Jenny giving me her panties to fill with my cum.”

“What kind was she wearing last week?”

“Believe me, I felt them, but I certainly didn’t see them!”

A little bit later I was just outside the front door when Miriam came back down. By that time, she had a darker dress, a blue jacket, a black hairband, and different shoes. I joshed with her. “Are you wearing panties right now?” Then I had the nerve to say, “I know what a bad lady you are; sometimes you probably don’t wear them at all.”

She did find that funny, “Well, sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t, but I indeed have them now! But I can’t flash them here.”

“I didn’t expect that you would.”

 *****

I directed the car service to take us to one of the places on Bainbridge Avenue. It was a restaurant too, and it seemed more appropriate than one of those old-Irish-guy bars that were common in that neighborhood.

Just before we went in, Miriam took out a pair of glasses and put them on.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“I don’t; these just have plain glass instead of lenses. Sometimes I wear these so I don’t feel . . .” She stopped to think of the right word. “Noticeable, I guess. Do you get that?”

“Of course, like your dress with the red cherries.”

“Yes, exactly!”

We sat in a booth and ordered our drinks plus a plate of onion rings. I got the impression that she was a bit discombobulated, but I was feeling that way too.

Yet she said, “I’m still horny. We should go back to my place later and, okay, have some more oral. Or . . .” She put her hands up and wiggled her fingers. “We could let our fingers do the walking.” That was a reference to an old TV commercial for The Yellow Pages. “Or, here’s another idea, we could both work on ourselves and have a race to see who finishes first.”

That was quite imaginative. “I think they call that a circle jerk, although usually, it’s more than two people.”

“Did you ever try that with any of your buddies?”

“Those guys? I think they would have fainted if I had suggested it.”

We were finishing the first round when she said, “Let’s have one more round before we go.”

Then she surprised me a bit, “Look, Jeff, I don’t think you’re going to be meeting any Jenny-replacement girls over this summer. You don’t seem like the kind of guy who cruises bars or clubs.”

“No, I’m not. I just have that dumb clothing store job, and it’s hardly a pick-up paradise.”

“So you can think about this . . .” After a hesitation she said. “Maybe you could spend some time with me then. We could go downtown sometimes, and you can hang out in my apartment when you want to. I mean, I trust you and I know you trust me.”

“So why do you trust me?”

She thought for a second. “Because, as I think you know, I have to be – call it aware of other people in a way that you don’t have to. It’s just part of my life, people have not always been fair to me. Sometimes they’ve even been cruel. But you have always been fair. More than that, you are fond of me too. Sorry, I know, that’s a lot for you to take in.”

I didn’t respond directly. A few moments later I said, “I’ll tell you right now what I’ve decided. Yes, I will be with you for a while.”

She smiled. “That’s all I can ask of you.”

I looked at her and thought, Miriam, I so much like the way you smile at me. At least the two of us wouldn’t be at loose ends during the upcoming months. I didn’t know if she was a friend, or a lover, or something undefinable, but it didn’t really matter.

I had ordered a beer instead of the vodka and tonic I had in the first round. Then I lifted my glass and said, “We should have a toast to, ah . . .”

She said, “To the summer of 1981,” and we clinked our glasses.

#####

The Whitestone Drive-In and Rice Stadium were real places, but both are now gone.