Uncle Paul's Annoying Guest

[This is part of the series Role Playing With Michelle, but it was actually written more than a year ago before I joined Literotica. The role-play with her character "Sherri" is here. Another Michelle game taking place in spring 1975 is A Hippie Girl's Agenda.

A woman named Charlotte is mentioned in this story; a BDSM scene with her is posted in Charlotte's Sexy Web Ch. 02.]

*****

In mid-May 1975 Michelle presented another role-playing idea. I wasn't sure I needed another of these outings but she was very enthusiastic about her new concept. This would unfold in her apartment in Long Island City.

Her place was just a few blocks west of Court Square. She had the first floor of a very old two-story wooden house. There was a machine shop to the left and a scrap yard on the other side. The flat roof and vestigial cornice of the building made it look like a part of a movie set representing Dodge City or Tombstone, Arizona. Of course the Midtown Manhattan skyline across the river ended any similarity to the Old West.

The apartment had a railroad flat set-up, with a parlor in the front, a bedroom in the middle, and a kitchen at the rear. The bathroom was in the far right corner of the back. At some point a window had been added to the bedroom wall facing the scrap yard.

There was a door out the back to a small rear yard, and this was the biggest disappointment about the place. The tall blank wall of another building blocked everything back there, including most sunlight. If it weren't for that building, it is possible there might have been some view of Manhattan. Michelle sensibly pointed out that such an amenity would have likely increased the rent quite a bit.

*****

Her new character was, like herself, a college sophomore; she was named June but mostly went as Junie.

She outlined the scenario for me. I would play an older guy, perhaps in his early forties. I would have some male friend who apparently was a widower and Junie was his only child. I had known her for years and she called me "Uncle Paul." At this point for reasons unknown I hadn't seen her for over a year and now her father was going to drop her off for an overnight visit, which would include dinner. My place, of course, was really Michelle's Queens apartment.

This scene seemed more than a bit contrived to me, but I let Michelle explain Junie's quirks.

"She's sort of off-kilter mentally I'd say and she's more than just a flirt - she's a real tease, a cock-tease to be blunt about it."

"I can see where this is going. I'm going to get socked in the nuts again." (That really happened in a role-play the previous November.)

"Not necessarily."

"That's not too reassuring."

"I'm not sure what is going to happen, that partially depends on you. Keep in mind that she is a virgin."

"Any particular reason for that?"

"She's quite immature. I don't know her exact psychological issues, but she will come across as a real ditz."

"And do I really have to spend all night with this person?"

I knew from our previous outings how intense Michelle's characters could be. Also it was uncanny how long she could stay in character and the amount of detail she would conjure up regarding her invented persona.

She said, "Of course not, I'll figure out how to get us out of this - it will be maybe two hours or less."

"Somehow I know this won't actually include me getting into Junie's pants."

"Don't over think it now. Just see what happens."

"How come I never saw these traits in Junie, you know, in earlier years?"

"Well it's been about a year and she's changed somewhat. Her hormones are really kicking in I suspect."

"Then she should find someone suitable for her age. Just curious: what college does this young lady go to?"

"Ah, somewhere in New Jersey? Say Teaneck is her hometown."

I said, "How about that school out there, Fairleigh Dickinson?"

"That seems good; she's definitely not Princeton material."

I asked, "Is she a cheerleader by chance?"

"No, she hates cheerleaders. She thinks they're stuck up."

"At least she's right about that."

Michelle opined, "I think this is going to be great. I'm really fired up for it." I wasn't so enthusiastic based on what I had heard so far.

We had to work out the logistics. During role plays sometimes compromises had to be done for the sake of practicality. This one would be late on a Saturday afternoon. Michelle would get ready for the role and then drive off for a while. Then with my own set of keys I would let myself in and wait for Junie to show up. Of course my old buddy, Junie's dad, wouldn't be available to meet me. He would drop her off but I would never see him. It was an unavoidable suspension of disbelief.

******

Thus one warm afternoon I was sitting on Michelle's sofa staring at the front door. I felt I could use a drink but decided against it for the moment. I would need a clear mind to handle whatever she threw at me. The doorbell rang and I jumped up. I yanked the door open and there was Junie.

The Michelle under Junie gave me some time to look her over. Michelle had a talent for costume design as well as dialogue, acting, and every other skill need for role playing. I started at the top and went down her five-foot seven-inch height:

1. Her medium brown hair: what do you call those things? Pigtails or pony tails? They weren't braided so I guessed they were pony tails, one on each side of her head.

2. A blue baseball cap. Yankees or Mets? I never could tell.

3. Pink-tinted glasses with plastic frames instead of her usual steel rims.

4. A strange blouse, a white pullover item. It had a plunging neckline, it was short-sleeved and the sleeves were see-through. It was at least a size too small for her and there was a gap showing her midriff.

5. A tiny purse with the strap over one shoulder.

6. Her skirt: a perfect Catholic school plaid number. The problem was that is was several sizes too small. It was the shortest skirt I had ever seen her wear and possibly shorter than I had seen any woman wear in public.

7. Her great tennis-playing, ice-skating legs, strong and bare. She wore white knee socks.

8. The footgear: black Converse high-top sneakers. As far as I could tell everything, except perhaps the socks, was new to me.

9. She had one more prop: a battered brown plastic suitcase, "Sherri's" suitcase from last year. Was it again full of books for weight now?

10. And how did I not register this? She was licking a lollipop, not just any lollipop but a huge red and white one several inches in diameter.

Then she jumped into character. I was caught off-guard as she took her glasses off and screeched "Uncle Paul!" Her arms went around my neck and she kissed me full on the mouth. It was a long, passionate kiss; one would think we spent the previous evening copulating somewhere.

"Hi Junie - ah, nice lollipop."

She held it out to me, "Would you like to lick it?"

This was starting out at a notable place. But her attention was instantly off to something else. "Please, I want to see your new place. It's so exciting!"

She left her suitcase on the sidewalk. I retrieved it and was relieved that it felt empty. Inside she did an impressive job of looking at her own apartment through Junie's eyes. It was a pleasant but plain place, but Junie approved of it. There was only one hitch. She asked me, "Where am I going to be sleeping?"

Michelle and I hadn't considered this issue; there was only one bed in the house. I offered, "I'm not sure; maybe the sofa."

She said, "That's way too small for me."

"Then maybe we can spread some blankets on the floor . . ." She was frowning at me. I gave up, "All right, you can have the bed and I'll figure out something in the living room." She smiled knowingly as if she grasped how easy it was to get what she wanted.

In the kitchen she found some reason to bend over and check out the oven at the bottom of the stove. Her panties: those had to be the ones her Sherri character wore last year. Where had they been all these months? They definitely were white and skimpy and I could see through them as easily as I could see through her blouse sleeves.

I couldn't control the shock to my system. I could envision taking her from behind while she stood by the stove. Not even foreplay - just get it in now. I thought, Michelle, you are the damn cock-tease. My consolation was that I knew she would probably more than make it up to me later after the role ended

Then Junie banged through the back door so fast that I was worried the hinges would be damaged. Michelle had finally gotten around to getting a charcoal grill and this was what I would use to make dinner.

I said, "We're going to have a barbecue tonight . . ."

"Uncle Paul, that's fantastic."

Only the second time and I was already sick of being Uncle Paul. How much of this would I have to endure? She looked at the offending building crowding the property line, "You really should get someone to blow up that place."

If I knew where to go, I might find some wiseguys to burn it down for a price that was thousands more than I could afford. But then she forgot everything back there and dashed inside. Where the hell is she going now? I found her in the parlor looking at the record collection.

"Uncle Paul, let's play some music."

The third time for "Uncle Paul"; her five minutes here already felt like thirty. Then, "Do you have Mott the Hoople?" I tried not to laugh but couldn't stop myself. I was familiar with Michelle's tastes by then and I knew that band wasn't in her collection.

She continued, "How about Foghat?"

No, not them either. She said, "Okay, David Bowie, he's cool." She put the Young Americans album onto the turntable and easily found the first track on Side One. The volume got turned up to some level not appropriate for a living room.

I sat on the couch trying to regroup as I watched her attempt to sing and dance. Michelle had a plausible singing voice but Junie definitely did not. Also, the song lyrics were complicated and Bowie sang most of them rapidly; thus she could only grasp the chorus. I heard:

All night, she wants the Young American
Young American, Young American
She wants the Young American
All night she wants the Young American.

For everything else she swung her arms around and babbled, "Dah, dah; doo doo dah" or something like it.

"Junie, please turn the volume down."

She did, but that was just a prelude to the next event. She was at the bookcase now. "Gee, you sure have a lot of books." I had some impartial curiosity about what she'd pull off the shelf. It turned out to be a paperback copy of Fear of Flying. Michelle, you're telegraphing a punch here.

She sat down in a straight-backed chair and made a show of crossing her legs; then she started flipping through the pages.

"Hey, are they really allowed to print stuff like this?"

I thought of mentioning Ulysses in 1933 but, wisely I think, decided to skip it. "Of course they can print it. I mean, there it is."

"There's this time her sister's husband sneaks into her room and - ah, tries to get it in on with her."

I had read the book a couple of years earlier but I couldn't recall that scene. "I'm not sure I remember that," I said.

"You know, she's in this place called Lebanon. She has to fly there."

"Oh yeah, her trip to the Middle East. Although in the strictest sense it's the Near East, but no one calls it that now."

My geographical meanderings didn't register with her. She continued through the pages and found what she wanted. Michelle had to make one allowance for reality here. Since she couldn't wear her usual glasses she held the book much closer to her face than Junie would have done it. But the rest was true to character. Even though the text had some intriguing sexual imagery she struggled with the prose.

"She says she's in bed one night and this guy Pierre comes in."

"Right, I got it now, her brother-in-law."

"So she writes about annoying guys like him and she says it wasn't fear of pregnancy, but 'they kept suggesting alternative like anal intercourse, sucking or mutual masturbation.' He even 'offered his erect penis to my mouth.' "

Junie looked away from the book and smiled to herself. Then she squirmed in her seat and she seemed to rub her thighs - those smooth, shapely limbs - against each other. "I've heard you have girlfriend Uncle Paul, right? Do you do any of those things with her?"

That could be a conversation stopper but I tried to project some sophisticated older man aplomb, "Well, Junie, I'll admit that is true except for the first item on the list." It sounded more like I was discussing brands of diet soda.

"The first thing? Oh, anal. That's absolutely disgusting." I remembered what my now-departed girlfriend Andrea had once said, "Sex is a very earthy business," but I thought that comment would be wasted on Junie.

Junie was inspired to describe her own erotic life, "I have a boyfriend myself but I won't lick his dick or even touch it. If he wants to, he can jerk himself off while I watch." And they called it puppy love. She continued, "Once in a while I'll flash my pussy at him so he gets it done faster."

I must have looked blank because she explained more. "You know, like this." She spread her legs and pulled her panties aside to give me a flash. Somehow this didn't have the impact of the earlier incident in the kitchen. Maybe I was getting used to her.

She said, "His name is Rolf."

I felt sorry for this poor Rolf guy even if was imaginary. "And he goes along with this?" I asked.

"He has to if he wants to be with me. Funny his dick doesn't look anything like one described somewhere else in here." She flipped through more pages until she found it. I guessed Rolf's penis was the only one she had ever seen.

"She talks about a cock with a 'design of blue veins on its Kandinsky-purple underside.' Rolf isn't anything like that, I'm sure." June did more giggling and smirking. "Ah, what's a Kandinsky?"

"He was a painter, I believe."

"Did he paint cocks?"

"You mean the way some people paint walls?"

It wasn't much of a quip, but Michelle probably liked it. Junie just said, "Huh?"

"I really don't know anything about him." Michelle could probably describe him to me later.

Junie continued her literary seminar. "This Isadora chick, she talks about the response of ladies, 'I longed to have orgasms like Lady Chattering . . .' "

"It's Chatterly, Lady Chatterly."

"Who's that?"

"She's a character in another novel."

I had had enough of this and I changed the topic, "Junie, I think we should get dinner going. Would you help me?"

"That's great, I'm starving." Indeed, so was I.

She got up and just flipped the book onto the floor. I followed her out and noticed the lollipop on the coffee table, probably stuck to the wood. Well, it wasn't really my coffee table.

******

In the back yard I explained, "We're barbecuing steaks, and we'll have rice and steamed asparagus." A bit bland, perhaps, but that's what I could handle.

"I hate asparagus. Your pee smells like it afterwards." That was true, but it never stopped Michelle from eating it.

She fluttered around a bit while I got the grill lit. Then she was gone, and I was content to not have her annoying me for a few minutes. Then I thought: these scenes require two people to work. Michelle would want me to get back inside for some more Junie interaction.

I went back into the kitchen and Junie wasn't there. I walked through to the parlor and "surprised" her. She was rummaging through the drawer of the cabinet under the record albums.

"Oh my God, Uncle Paul, I thought you were cooking."

For a second I was confused but then I realized I had been given some cues. Michelle knew how this was supposed to go but I had to improvise my part of the scene.

"What are you doing in there? What did you just put in your purse?"

"Nothing, I swear it."

This was supposed to be my house although I didn't actually know what was in that drawer. "Let me see what's in your purse."

It was stuffed with money, all small bills. I went over and opened the drawer; there were more loose bills inside. Michelle must have planted that earlier; she was an excellent prop master.

I made up my line, "You're a sneaky little thief, aren't you?"

"It's not my fault - I'm like, they call it a klepto. I can hardly go into a store without walking out with something."

"You're a kleptomaniac? You need to get some help then."

Junie stood there looking very contrite. "When I'm a very bad like now, my dad gives me a good spanking."

I heard and felt my teeth click together. "He does what exactly?"

"He used to spank me on the back of my skirt, but if I'm really bad he takes my panties down and whacks my bare bottom. Over his knee I mean." With a dad like that it was no wonder she's a bit unbalanced.

Michelle must have figured I needed a bit more information about her character. "He spanks me with his hand until my bottom is all red and sore, then he gives me some whacks with a hairbrush. Like maybe ten of those. He calls it, 'tanning my hide.' "

Things were getting serious really fast here. Damn it, Michelle, you've got to be kidding; what do I do with this?

"You're not going to spank me too, are you Uncle Paul?"

Of course not? No, play through with this. There was a golf analogy here I couldn't quite get. Hit the ball where it lays?

I said, "If it's good enough for your father, it's good enough for me."

I went back a few steps and looked into the bedroom. Sure enough there was a hairbrush on top of the dresser. Had that ever been there before? Well, go get it.

I came back and assessed the situation. I thought that Michelle might throw another twist into the game now to change everything. Maybe Junie could lock herself in the bathroom for a while. But talking to her through the door would make for some dull role playing.

Actually Junie made no attempt to get away. She stood there with her hands behind her back as if to protect her behind; her thighs were pressed together and she was giving me worried looks.

"Please don't spank me. It's going to hurt."

I figured out the clichéd answer, "It's supposed to hurt; it's a punishment."

The high-backed chair looked like a good place for this. It was not as comfortable as the sofa but maybe that was its good point. I sat in it and put the brush on the floor. Now what?

Junie seemed to be moving closer rather than shying away. It struck me that maybe she had liked her previous spankings and had engineered this situation so that I was the one to do her latest session

I took her arm and easily guided her to my other side; then she readily let herself be pulled across my lap. I made up more stupid lines, "Come here, young lady, and take the thrashing you deserve." That sounded more British than American, but I was surely influenced by my Anglophile girlfriend Charlotte on how I staged my part in this. Junie's weight pressed down on me and I used my left arm to hold her waist and keep her in place.

"Not on my bare bottom; don't take my panties down." That seemed to translate as: yes, please take my panties down. I flipped back her minimal skirt and then lowered the underpants in question to her knees. What a fine ass, I thought, high and tight. Of course the fact that it belonged to someone I loved and lusted for helped, but looking at it objectively I still considered it splendid.