Bronx Park East Ch 06

Chapter 5 is

here

. Orchard Beach is in the northeast Bronx on Long Island Sound. This is happening in 1974.

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On the Sunday of Labor Day weekend, Lenore and I went out by bus to Pelham Bay Park and Orchard Beach. We weren't going to swim that day, just walk around. We had gotten off the bus as it entered the park so we could do just that.

It was a ghastly hot day, and the entire scene out there was chaotic. Cars kept pouring into the area and, with the parking lots filled, people parked all over the grassy lawns. One group of guys opened up a hydrant and sprayed water on passing buses.

Lenore had a denim skirt and a red and white halter top, but she kept a shirt on top of the latter. It was only open enough for me to get a glimpse of the garment I really wanted to see. I knew she was a bit reluctant to show herself off in public. She had sneakers on, not sandals, so she could do the necessary walking.

We were sitting to the side of a road leading to the beach. We both seemed a bit clueless about why we were even out there, but we couldn't think of any other place to go. Aunt Julia was at the apartment, so we couldn't relax in the air-conditioning and have some chilled wine or beer.

Why hadn't that Julia lady gotten herself invited to someone's beach house?

We hadn't brought anything as a beverage, and we'd have to go a half-mile to the bathhouse to buy anything. In desperation, we had cooled ourselves a bit from a dripping hydrant and cupped our hands to drink its water.

I brought up the halter-top issue. "Why are you wearing it and yet you've covered it with a shirt?"

"I thought there might be some place here where I could, you know, be alone a bit and just enjoy a little sun on my skin." She looked around. "But there is no such place here. I admit I don't want to be a public tease. I don't want to be flaunting myself so that other guys can look but not touch. It may seem weird to think this, but it's not really fair to them."

"But Lenore, that's the whole point of it." I loved looking at her tan lines. The creamy complexion of her skin showed them beautifully.

"Then some other girl can do it."

"Well, I know it's there even if no one else does." I put my arm around her and pulled her closer. "At least show it for my sake."

She seemed reluctant, "Okay, I'll think about it."

A couple of minutes later, I had an inspiration, "Hey, I think we can pull off a screw right here in the park."

"Wow, when did you become so blunt? And there must be a half-million people here. Where do you propose to go?"

"There's an abandoned railroad station over there by the Amtrak line." I added, "It mostly doesn't have a roof."

"Sounds lovely; so romantic."

"Let's have a look at least."

Over there we found the remains of a brick building. I said, "Welcome to City Island Road station, I think that's what it was called." At that moment a northbound Amtrak train came blasting through.

One of the rooms of this building, perhaps the old waiting room, had long since lost its roof. The former floor was overgrown with weeds and other plants. The remaining parts of the station had been sealed off.

Lenore looked at the place with skepticism. "All right, there's only one way this could work. We would have to be standing up, with my skirt raised, and you could take me from behind." She didn't sound very enthusiastic. In fact, it was the first time I had ever heard her reluctance about some sexual act.

I said, "What's the matter? You don't like the idea of if a dirty little quickie? You can even brace yourself against that wall."

"I'm not that keen on it, especially since any mook could just walk in here. But if you really want it, I'll do it."

"I could just poke my cock through the zipper."

"That seems more like a rape than anything else. No, drop your pants, at least a little bit. Come on, let's get to it." I had never seen her so indifferent, if that is the word, about sex. "Let's not take all day with this. Come over here; I'll press against you."

She turned and lifted her skirt. Then she took her panties off and dropped them on the ground. As I had suggested, she leaned over and braced herself against a wall. Her behind was pushed up and out.

I went over to her and put my hand between her legs. Despite my fondling of her, she felt damp at best. Usually, she was dripping wet by the time I entered her. It seemed best to just push myself against her as she had instructed. She did a credible job of gyrating her buttocks against my crotch. In a short while, her next statement was again abrupt, "As I said, do it already." I guided myself into her.

During this coupling she hardly made a sound. Her usual response was to moan a lot during sex and describe her pleasure to me, but not this time.

It was indeed dismaying to imagine someone walking in there and seeing my thrusting buttocks, and then getting a glimpse of Lenore's ample round hindquarters. With my paranoia, I just wanted to come as quickly possible, so I held her hips and banged away at her. I did groan with each stroke, but it was notable that she didn't say anything.

My actual climax felt better than I had expected, although the whole event had a perfunctory feel to it. When I pulled out, she turned around to look at me and she was frowning. When I caught my breath and could speak, I said, "Ah, you didn't come yourself."

"That was pretty obvious."

I was somehow irked with her, even though I was mostly bugged with myself. "You didn't do anything to help it along."

"A little more foreplay would have helped, but I can understand why you felt rushed."

It seemed that she was pissed at me, and we would have to spend the rest of the afternoon in a sour mood.

Maybe we should just go home on separate buses.

Then, even though I knew it was a further mistake to be apologetic, I did it anyway, "I guess I didn't use the best judgment."

To my surprise, she smiled and pinched my cheek, then she put her arms on my shoulders and kissed me. "It's okay, really, I know what a horny young guy you are."

"And you're a horny young girl."

"Yes, but this railroad station thing didn't do it for me."

She reached down in the weedy grass to retrieve her underpants, then she put them in her purse. "Just to prove how cool I am, I'm going to walk around for the rest of the day without these. I know you'll like that."

It occurred to me that some girls would have really busted my chops for being so careless, even selfish, for having proposed this stunt and then going through with it. Just as we were leaving, she lifted her skirt and presented her behind towards me. "See a cream pie in me, I suppose?"

"Oh yes, I put a nice load in there."

She wagged a finger at me, "You're a very naughty boy, seducing young girls in stations. You deserve a good spanking."

"And who is going to do that? You?"

"You bet I will."

She actually hadn't done that to me yet, but later that month she kept her word.

We finally wound up on the crescent-shaped strand along Orchard Beach. This place was owned by the city, and there were two large 1930s-era Art Deco bathhouses. The beach was nicknamed "The Working Class Riviera," which appealed to my sense of reverse snobbism. In truth, I actually preferred the state-owned Jones Beach out on Long Island, but it was very hard to get to without a car.

As Lenore and I leaned on the outside railing she said, "Don't look at all these Latina girls in their bikinis. I'll give you something to view."

She took her shirt off, and then she put her arms up and back and pushed her breasts forward. "So, here's that halter top. Are you happy now?" She turned around so I could get a rear view too.

I could see the tan lines from her bathing suit. It hasn't been a bikini, but rather an ample two-piece suit. I had liked it anyway. Three times that summer we had made the long trip to Jones Beach. That required nearly three hours each way by subway, the Long Island Rail Road, and finally a bus for the final leg to the beach. It did have a very large but attractive swimming pool, plus the ocean surf to frolic in. We had gone swimming in both.

Lenore's breasts weren't that large, but I liked the front view too. I decided to josh with her a little bit, "Not bad, but there's a lot of female competition on this beach." I pretended to look at some girl nearby with a bikini plus running shoes and white socks, of all things.

Lenore looked at me askance for a moment, and then said, "Oh, I see the game you're playing."

"Me? I'm not playing any games."

She was smiling now, "Oh yes, you are. It's the make-believe you're not salivating over your girlfriend game. And you also think I'm going to get jealous. Well, I'm not falling for any of that."

She grabbed the hem of her skirt, and then dropped it, "Shit, I almost forgot I don't have any panties on. That would have been embarrassing. Anyway, this skirt does go well with the halter top, doesn't it?"

I suddenly felt distracted, "Yeah, it certainly does." I admitted to her, "I really wish there was someplace we could go, you know, to be alone together."

"Well, we just banged at the station, and I'm not going back there again. I think we're just out of luck for the moment. But, I have something to help us get through the day." She brought a pint bottle of Jim Beam bourbon out of her purse.

We sat on a bench sharing swigs of the bottle. I asked, "How come we didn't go swimming today?"

"This place doesn't impress me for that. There's no pool, and somehow swimming in Long Island Sound, inside the city limits, doesn't seem that clean to me."

A bit later, the alcohol was having an effect on her, and she was singing. She had tied her shirt around her waist so that she wouldn't have to hold it.

"You said no strings, could secure you, at the station

Platform ticket, restless diesels, good-bye windows.

I walked into such a sad time at the station

As I walked out, felt my own need just beginning."

I said, "You're really hung up on that station."

"Baby, that was your idea, not mine."

I was aware that I was a barely employed college student, with no apartment and no car. If I had those, we wouldn't be having this mediocre day with hundreds of thousands of other people having their own mediocre holiday here.

But I figured that Lenore was only eighteen and that she wouldn't expect more of me yet. I would soon find out that I was wrong.

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