Mandy’s Cemetery Adventure

This was part of a series on another site, but I reworked it into a stand-alone story. It's about two recent college graduates, Miranda (Mandy) Grossman and Paul D'Amato, who have only known each other for about a month.

In this chapter, she comes up with a new dating idea for her recently-acquired boyfriend. Woodlawn Cemetery is in the North Bronx, and the Jay Gould Mausoleum does exist as described here. This is taking place in September 1977.

The reference to the movie theater near the end is about his first meeting with her in August.

************

"Hey Paul, that stunt we talked about -- we should do it this week."

"You mean, let's call it -- a sexual stunt, right?"

Mandy said, "That's it, exactly. I thought I made that clear before."

I was very pleased with my new girlfriend so far. Miranda was a tall, zaftig girl with dark-blonde hair just down to her chin, which was a bit on the short side for that time. She was also very smart and funny, although she had a few eccentricities that I had noticed from the first day I had met her.

On that warm September afternoon, we were hanging out at a coffee shop on Broadway down the hill from her apartment in Kingsbridge Heights.

I said, "All right, what have you got for me?"

She took a deep breath and hesitated for a moment. "What I had thought of was -- we should have sex outdoors. I have a specific place in mind."

"What, just being in the car is not enough? Do you mean like in, say, a park, like Van Cortlandt?"

"No, I was thinking of Woodlawn Cemetery."

That was Mandy's wild and crazy side coming out again. I sat there for a moment, unable to reply. Before I could say anything else, she broke in, "Come on, at least hear me out."

"Okay, let me ask some questions first. Like, is this supposed to be at night?"

"No, I'm not superstitious, but it would be more than a bit creepy to be there after dark. Besides, I think they close the gates."

I didn't want to be there at night either, but I replied, "If this is in the daytime, it increases the chance of us getting caught, you do know that?"

"Well, that's part of the fun of it all, the risk we take. Except, we're not going to get caught."

"Yeah, and how can you guarantee that?"

"Have you ever heard of Jay Gould?"

I didn't know where this was going with that, but I played along with her. "He was one of the 19th Century robber barons, I think."

"That's him. At one point he owned a lot of railroads."

"All right, so what?"

She said, "You know how in the northern part of Woodlawn, there are all those old and really big mausoleums? Well, Gould has one there -- he died in 1892 -- and when you see this place, you'll know for sure that we can get away with fooling around in there." She continued, "You know what he said once? He said, 'I can hire one half of the working class to kill the other half.' "

"He was the one who said that? Sounds like he was a really charming kind of guy."

I sat back and thought about the situation. For some reason, that old song "The Wabash Cannonball" occurred to me, and I repeated two lines of it.

Mandy asked me, "What is that bit about traveling through 'the jungle?' "

"It refers to a hobo jungle or an encampment you could call it."

"I get it. Rain forests or whatever being rather scarce in, ah..."

"Indiana, most likely."

Mandy interrupted my reverie. "About the cemetery; at least have a look. We could drive over there on Thursday." She smiled, "I'll wear something special to motivate you."

"And what will that be?"

"You'll find out on Thursday." Another one of her surprises.

"Okay, my lovely Miranda, I'll have to see this for myself."

I remembered one other bout of outdoor sex I had experienced. That was back in 1975 with a plump but sexy little girl named Judy Weinberg. We had pulled off our tryst at City College, on the lawn behind Wagner Hall. But that had been quite late, around ten o'clock in the evening.

I considered telling Mandy about it, but I decided to hold off until I saw how this latest escapade went.

*******

Thursday was a warm but overcast day. Around 11:00 AM I drove my 1972 Cutlass through the Jerome Avenue gate and headed north. I noticed that Mandy had brought a big shopping bag with her, but I didn't ask about what was in it.

What most caught my attention were her clothes. She was wearing the same orange blouse and black skirt that she had on the day I had met her in August. This time, however, she had dark nylon stockings and black shoes instead of white sneakers and socks.

I asked her, "So how did you find out about this place?"

"Four years ago, when my Uncle Jeff was buried here, my family drove around afterwards. We were sort of sightseeing if looking at mausoleums could be considered sights to be seen."

"I've seen them myself."

"Do you have any relatives buried here?"

"Yeah, two actually. My grandma Louise, my mother's mom, she died of a heart attack when I was about three months old."

"Wow, she must have been on the young side."

"Fifty-two, I think. And her sister -- what would that be, my great-aunt, I think? -- died even younger. She got run over by a car on Queens Boulevard, around 1943. She's in another location around here." I thought about that. "I'm not sure I could find either gravesite right now. When people die before you remember them, they remain kind of abstract, you know what I mean?"

"I do get it."

This talk of death was strange considering our purpose in being there. But maybe that was the point. Our sexual coupling, if we could pull it off, would demonstrate that we were still very much alive. And also, at the age of twenty-two, one has no real concept of time yet. My own mortality seemed so far off in the future that it didn't register with me.

We entered the zone of the mausoleums, and I had forgotten how impressive many of them were. Even the smaller ones were like solid blocks of stone. The bigger ones were virtually buildings in themselves.

I commented, "At least these give jobs to stone masons, or they did at one time."

"It's amazing that people paid for these things. I mean, it's not like they're really here. All of this stone to hold -- what, some bones by this point probably?"

I said, "People's vanity, it has no limits. And the older ones, who even comes to visit them anymore? Once you're beyond anyone's living memory, as I said, you're really gone." I thought further, "You know Mandy, for this sexy adventure we're supposed to be having here, this is an extremely downbeat conversation."

Miranda was not the type to be apologetic about anything. "Well, I'm more interesting than some boring, vapid chick, right?"

I decided to tease her, "That's true, but you had better come up with something really good here today."

"Don't worry, you're going to like it, I'm sure of that. In fact, I'm going to like it too."

In a few moments we were stopped in front of Jay Gould's final resting place, and the size of the place was indeed impressive. The whole thing was the equivalent of two stories high, or close to that, and it was bigger than some bank buildings I had seen. It was designed like a Greek temple, with a colonnade around the entire structure enclosing an inner building.

This is just for one dead dude? You could easily entomb a hundred people in there.

I said, "I admit, it's pretty amazing."

"He obviously had a lot of money and the ego to go along with it. Drive around to the back."

Once we were there and I had turned off the engine, she moved closer and started talking to me in that quiet, confidential manner women have when discussing some sexual proposition.

"I already know how this is going to go. First, let me show you something."

She pulled her skirt up above her waist and said, "Ever see a garter before, with straps? I just got it and I know it's kind of retro, but I'm already loving it. I've got to get more of these things."

The garter encircled her waist and it had black straps holding up her stockings. The garter itself was orange with a black pattern on it,

I admitted, "No, actually I haven't seen one before." I tried to remember if one had ever appeared in

Penthouse

or

Hustler

magazines. "I noticed that it's sort of color-coordinated with your blouse."

"Have you noticed something else?"

"Am I supposed to?"

"Yeah, dummy, look at this." She splayed her legs apart. I could see that the garter was open from below, and I could look right up to her bare cunt.

My comment was pretty lame, "Oh, I see."

"Yeah, you can see indeed. It's sort of a garter-girdle combination, as opposed to being merely a belt. It almost covers my ass and pubic hair, but not quite! The point is, you can wear panties over it to cover the opening at the bottom. I obviously choose the option of not wearing them."

"A very good choice, I'd say."

Then she moved forward and started kissing me. She quietly said, "Now first, I want you to fondle my pussy and then you will go down on me. You will -- in fact, I expect it from you -- give me an orgasm. I'm sure you can do that because I've seen you do it before."

I joshed with her, "So you expect it, huh? I haven't failed you yet."

"Not even once! Then, when that's done, I'll take your stiff cock out -- and I'm sure it will be quite stiff -- and I'll blow you until you have an orgasm too. That will all be in the car. Sounds pretty good so far?"

"I don't have any complaints."

"But that is only Act I of this little affair. For Act II, we will get out of the car and go into that colonnade that Jay Gould so thoughtfully provided for the young lovers of the future, namely us."

I glanced at the structure, "The problem is, there is only hard stone to lie on. Do you expect to do it standing up?"

"Ah-hah, I've already thought about that." She reached back to her shopping bag in the back seat. "That's why I have a nice thick blanket in here."

Man, this chick has it all planned out.

Before I could say more, she had her arms around me again and we didn't waste any time. As she started kissing me, I thrust my right hand under her skirt and I went straight for her bare pussy. She reacted quickly as I rubbed her slit. "Oh yes, that's great, please do it just like that." She was surprisingly wet. I supposed merely anticipating all this had aroused her. I had seen that from her before; her cunt could lubricate from her thoughts alone.

I was instantly erect, but she made no move to take out my cock or even rub me through my pants. That was okay; I knew she'd get to it soon enough.

Mandy's legs were splayed out, and she got her left one behind my back while the other one was braced on the steering wheel. I rubbed her in ways I knew she liked.

I said, "This garter and strap thing, it looks just great."

She was moaning by now. "Oh, definitely, much better than pantyhose."

Within a few minutes, she said, "Come on, lick me already, kiss my pussy." I did just that, flicking her clitoris with my tongue and then licking along the sides of her cunt. By then, she was lying back face-up on the seat with her legs in the air.

"That's it Paul; do it just that way. You'd be surprised at how some guys don't even like doing this to a lady."

I stopped long enough to say, "Mandy, baby, I could do this all day."

But I didn't have to do it all day. In a few minutes, she climaxed. Her hips came off the cushion; then she spread her legs even further and suddenly closed them around my head. Her moaning was continuous by that point.

For a few moments, she just lay there as I sat up behind the wheel. When she seemed to have her wits about her again, I asked her, "So you've met guys who don't know how to do this?"

"I met one who didn't even like the taste of cunt. He would barely lick me even when I would beg for it." Then she sat up and said, "Honey, it's your turn now."

I made a move to undo my pants but she said, "Just unzip yourself and push your cock out through the opening."

"What is the point of that?"

"I don't know, it just reminds me of a whore who needs to get it done quick and dirty." I had never heard her compare herself to a prostitute before.

"There are whores in Woodlawn Cemetery?"

She found that amusing, "Come on, use your imagination. You picked me up elsewhere and took me in here."

But I did imagine her as a streetwalker, and it was indeed quick and dirty as she had predicted. I sat on the edge of the seat and she knelt on the floor.

She helped encourage me by using her left hand to stroke my thigh and then my hip. Mandy had already discovered that caressing my lower body always motivated me to come faster, and she used the technique as she thought necessary. If it was accessible, my behind was the preferred place for her affectionate rubbing. That location worked best of all.

When I came, I ran my hands through her hair and whimpered as I ejaculated into her mouth. That time she swallowed it all. It wasn't always that way. Sometimes she pulled me out so I could shoot in from about an inch away. At other times, she aimed my cock in a different direction and watched me spurt. I swear she changed her methods just for the sake of variety.

She had once said to me, "I wonder if you know that women enjoy watching a man ejaculate, even if he does it to himself."

I had replied, "Mandy, I'm not a virgin. I've had girls watch plenty of times."

After the blowjob, we both sat there and she gave me a few minutes to recover. Then she said, "All right, it's time for Act II, which really will be outdoors. We're going in among the columns over there."

After grabbing her blanket from the bag, she exited the car and I followed her. She seemed like she was in a hurry. Maybe she wasn't as confident about that outdoor escapade as she had originally claimed. We crossed the lawn to the rear of the building; it seemed unlikely there would be any passerby back there. Besides, most people went through the cemetery in their cars, and we weren't visible from the road.

Mandy spread her blanket on the stone floor. Before I could react, she got down on her hands and knees and she had lifted her skirt. "Take me from behind. It feels so animalistic that way." I lowered my pants all the way and got behind her. I thought she needed more foreplay so I began fondling her.

"You don't need to do much of that. I'm ready to go right now."

I was in a jocular mood, "Hey, Miranda, go slow and savor the experience. I'm sure Jay Gould would approve."

"Fuck that grasping old bastard."

I positioned myself and guided my cock into her; she was very wet from all of that cunt licking. I had already come once already, so I had plenty of stamina. Now I was calmer about being outside, and I was very steady and deliberate in the way I screwed her. For the moment I didn't mind being outdoors. For her own part, Mandy had lost some of her nervousness, and she was soon moaning each time I thrust into her.

The rear view of her garter, her straps, and her dark stockings intrigued me again, I grabbed her ass and pulled her towards me. Soon she was supplying the motion herself, grinding her hips and behind against my front.

I commented, "Mandy, sweetheart, you have to get more of these garters."

"Yes, I promise, I'll get a whole bunch of them. I'll wear them on all our dates if you wish."

That was about the last intelligible thing she said. After that it was mostly, "Fuck me, fuck me harder," or whatever chicks say when they're getting nailed.

I could tell her orgasm was approaching because she tried to raise the upper part of her body and she put her left hand on the wall to brace herself. I wasn't quite ready myself, so I said words to encourage her.

"That's it baby, enjoy it, enjoy your climax. I love it when you do, I love making you come."

As usual, she made a lot of noise at her peak. If anybody was in front of the building, they might have heard that, but I no longer cared. Then she appeared to relax, so I said, "No Mandy, don't stop, I'm getting pretty close myself." She renewed her vigorous backwards motions. She was more lucid again, and as I came in her she said, "That's it Paul, shoot your hot load into me, shoot it."

We stayed coupled in the rear-entry position briefly, and then she went forward and lay face down on the blanket. I turned around and lay face up. When I looked at her face, she smiled at me.

I said, "God, we both came twice already."

She giggled, "We're young; we have the juice for it."

After a couple of minutes, I became aware of my surroundings again. I was staring up at the ceiling, and then I noticed again that the colonnade didn't give us complete cover. I even noted that the columns were of the Ionic order. The warm, humid September air surrounded us. For the first time, I noticed birds chirping. Fortunately, I hadn't heard any passing cars, but I admit that I could have missed a couple in the middle of the sex.

Yet it seemed that no one had passed us during our sojourn there. I'm sure that nowadays security is much tighter than it was then, but back in 1977 everything was much looser than it is now. Still, I thought about the gates out of that cemetery -- I think there were only three -- and I was aware of how long it would take us to leave the property. It wasn't like there was other traffic we could just melt into.

"Mandy, we really should get out of here now." She looked reluctant about getting up. I could understand that; I myself would have preferred to be indoors somewhere where we could relax and chat a bit.

But she did get up, and she surprised me by saying, "Do you mind if I do the driving now?" I noticed that as she dropped her skirt she was now completely dressed if one ignored her lack of underpants.

I said, "Do you even have a license?"

"Of course I have a license. Besides, it's only a '72 Cutlass."

"Only a '72 Cutlass. Okay, just don't crash it."

She looked a bit miffed, "Don't worry; I'll be careful with your precious Oldsmobile."

I let her in on the driver's side, and then I got in next to her.

I've noticed that when women come out of some abrupt or otherwise odd sexual encounter like that one had been, they often appear a bit disheveled or perhaps confused. Mandy seemed a little off as she sat behind the wheel. Then again, I was probably in a similar condition.

Then she suddenly focused on something. "Ah-hah, I had almost forgotten something." She grabbed her purse and pulled a pair of ample white panties out of it. "See, I do have a pair with me."

"Is that so if you are in an accident you won't be embarrassed by the ambulance crew?"

She laughed, "Actually, I hadn't even thought of that!"

She slipped her fresh underwear on and started the engine. I said, "Before we go -- you know who else is buried here? Herman Melville."

"Really? I didn't know that."

"You know who he was, right?"

"Of course, I went to Bronx Science, I know who Melville was."

I kidded her, "I thought maybe you just studied calculus."

"Actually, I didn't do that well with calculus."

"Neither did I. And I didn't get very far with

Moby Dick

either."

"Don't feel bad; I tried to read it too and I couldn't."

I joked, "Too much about whaling."

We quickly got to Melville's gravesite. All he had was a headstone, and his wife Elizabeth next to him had a stone cross. Mandy said, "He's got such a modest setup compared to that monstrosity Gould built for himself."

"Well, he didn't have the money for that, but who was the better human being?"

When Mandy got the car turned around, she said, "I'm going to head north, if you don't mind."

"Okay, where are we going?"

"I was thinking of Bear Mountain." That was a state park far up on the other side of the Hudson.

"Bear Mountain? That's an awfully long way to go."