Tami Beethoven

"Ladies, I think you should... sit and give me your undivided attention. Please."

So intent were they on extracting another orgasm that Tami had to shake them off, like a dog shaking off rain. With obvious disappointment the six clothed young women wiped their mouths and arranged themselves on the chairs. The naked girl stayed on the table, and sat cross-legged. Tami was still catching her breath, her breasts heaving, her tummy expanding and contracting. The TL's were, also, catching their breath.

Dr. Abu Jamal and Dr. Kantor pulled up a couple of chairs and sat down. After allowing silence to sink in, the Chalfont Director spoke.

"Tami wants to wear clothes."

"Awwww... " The expression of disappointment and pouting lips from the TL's was playful but also heartfelt. They wanted Tami to be always naked so the sight of her beauty would never be denied them. But they knew it would be a disservice to Tami for her allergy to continue, especially with her about to graduate.

"Her body has associated nakedness with pleasure. Somehow, it has formed a contrapositive reaction, associating clothes with pain. We are here to undo that association. Now I have some brief handouts here for you to read..."

. . . .

The big atrium of the rec hall was permeated with the smell of sweat, which of course was not unusual. Only at the moment it was just one person's sweat. Mixed with the smell of female sexual arousal.

It was a crowd by any definition, dozens of students in rec room attire (T-shirts, shorts, sneakers and socks), looking up at the "Hamster Wheel", the double treadmill, and the naked laboring body up on it, Tami with her bare feet pressing down on the blades, one foot after the other, the toes curling over the edges.

Arms pressing up againt the overhead bars, her perfectly toned, tanned body was dripping with sweat. Sweat ran down her face, coated her arms and shoulders, dripped off her breasts, ran down her concave tummy into the wet plum-colored forest at her crotch, down her widely-spread legs. Her eyes were closed as she concentrated intensely. Her heavy breaths were the only sound as everyone stood there enraptured.

Her pussy lips, slightly opened, glistened in the harsh lighting. The young men watching felt their dicks stiffen and were grateful for jockstraps and long shorts that hid their arousal. Dr. Kantor, off to the side, standing with his clipboard.

Now, Spica, who had plenty of room to stand below Tami's slightly spread pussy lips, carefully raised the dildo up, up, closer... as Rosaria, on a stepladder to the side, carefully encircled a string around Tami's waist, closing in, in...

Part 54

"Good afternoon, Ms. Smithers," Dr. Kantor said, turning on the harsh overhead hanglight in the freezing, abandoned lab.

The naked girl, splayed out on the black granite table, opened her eyes and raised her head, eyes blinking in the sudden light. She was surrounded by her friends, in gloves and overcoats. The doctor was right in front of her, she could see his face through the forest of pubic hair at the junction of her widely spread legs. Being Tami Smithers, having gone naked for years, she felt no need to close them as she responded, her breath making little clouds in the still, sepulchral cold. There was an element of shivering, from the cold and also from sexual deprivation. "I'm r - ready... zhhhh..."

Here in Lab 1, a cavernous subterranean space abandoned since 1955, the team went to work.

Fifteen minutes later, what seemed like agonizing stasis was actually an approach to climax. The naked girl's body writhed in frustration as her body was gently, and inadequately, stimulated by the six TL's, none of whom had taken off their coats or gloves. Spica and Myra lightly licked the brown, hard nipples that reached up in vain for greater stimulation than was offered. The rough fabric of Melissa's gloved hand scraped along the concave tummy and along the arms. Rosaria blew on the red, engorged clit, almost steaming in the cold air, and licked along the inner thighs, but never actually touched the clit or the pussy lips. She had to raise her head to avoid the straining pelvis as it lurched up with a groan from its owner; she simply pushed the thighs down with her powerful arms and began the licking and blowing again. Barbara and Jeane, their noses red with the cold, were holding the feet, licking and sucking on the toughened toes. The shadows of the TL's, harsh in the overhead light, lurched and receded across the landscape of the always naked Tami, her butt and her heels scraping against the rough granite as she writhed and moaned.

Dr. Kantor stood to the side with his clipboard, his thoughts and desires hidden. Now he called Barbara away from her station. Barbara pulled a flip-flop from her coat pocket. A single, solitary flip-flop, the merest possible covering for the foot, and drew it closer to the straining toes of the totally naked young woman, closer, closer...

. . . .

Rod sat alone, having finished his makeshift supper, after another long day at the project. Another afternoon of military maneuvers. More people not showing up, the ranks always thinning.

He was worried about Tami, even though she seemed a little better the past couple of days. He had assumed that Yvette would be nothing but trouble, but going to the skating rink with her seemed to cheer her up. He wished he could have been there. He wanted to see Tami happy. Yet he could not get out of his mind what she had said that strange day when she drank beer and stayed home, about getting the feeling that bad things were about to happen.

And he was worried about her "rehabilitation" at Chalfont. He couldn't imagine Tami in clothes. He knew she had been a normal clothed freshman her first week, so long ago, but he hadn't remembered her then. Like everyone else, he had only noticed her after she had been stripped. Thank goodness that first encounter in the dorm lounge had worked out well, when he had sat in front of her and Jen and ended up convincing her to run for dorm rep. Of course, what he took for normal freshman shyness was actually a deep, cringing shame at being naked in public... And then that even bigger risk, inviting her to the Black Formal. He was always thankful to Jen for convincing her it was O.K. to go.

So Tami wearing clothes? Even the idea seemed strange. He had seen her playing on the computer, putting her head onto the clothed bodies of other women, and it always looked fake.

He hoped it would work out. She had finally gotten motivated, having been freaked out by not being able to wear her wedding ring and having that blue ring tattooed onto her toe. He had been told that the TL's would be helping out, and it was just as well that he not be involved. He wouldn't feel comfortable licking Tami with people watching.

Now as it was getting dark he heard the slopping of bare feet in the slush outside, then the rubbing of tough soles on the doormat.

She surprised him by flinging the door open and bursting in with a loud "HI!" Then she stood there smiling broadly, her hand placed on a saucily jutted out hip. "What do you think?"

"About what, Babe?"

She waited a few beats and then -- "MY OUTFIT!"

Her shout made him jump. "W - what?"

"MY CLOTHES!!"

He looked her up and down. Aside from the tattoo on her toe there seemed nothing to mar her perfect and total nudity. But now she swung her hips from side to side. Then she raised her leg way up, and gripped the counter with her toes.

He peered carefully and saw some kind of orange sliver between her pussy lips. "What is that? Polyester?"

She beamed with pride as she pulled her lower lips apart. "The fabric isn't the best, yet. I call it a C-string. It came to me in a dream a long time ago. I was sitting on a beach in California and these Mexican girls were wearing thongs and... well it's a long story. But I got the idea after they tried to put a string around my waist and put a flip-flop on. That didn't work, but this did. It only took a few minutes to cut and put it together in the fashion lab. Gretchen helped. I want to make it in cherish."

"Cherish?"

"The fabric Gretchen and I are working on?"

"Oh right. How does it stay on?"

"The C stands for clitoris. The top ties around my clit, and the bottom has a little ball that stays in my butthole. See?" She bent down to look at it along with him. Indeed the top was a little bud of fabric over where her clit would be.

"Hi hi!"

She did her trick of bobbing her clit up and down. Hidden behind the fabric, it looked like the head of a modest women who had a sheet pulled over her.

"Now watch!" With a quick motion of her fingers and a little grunt, the C-string was off and held triumphantly over her head. The little ball was the size of a large marble. The whole item was about three inches long and half an inch wide.

Now she rinsed it in the sink and pressed it dry with a napkin. And with a little motion of her hips and fingers, it was back on again.

"Oh Baby!" She giggled and the C-string seemed to giggle too. "Finally! Clothes! Dr. Kantor says this is the big breakthrough! After this I can progress to even more clothes! Wheee!!"

She hopped onto Rod's stockinged feet and they kissed. "Babe, I'm so glad," he said, more as a response to her happiness than to anything else.

Tami then hopped off him and dragged him into the living room, breasts bouncing, taking little mincing steps that were unusual for her. She ran to the CD player. As she bent over Rod could see the C-string upside down, coming out of her butthole and disappearing between into the bush between her legs. Then she hopped up and stood before the big full-length mirror.

It was Madonna's "Vogue", a song she rarely played. As the beat began Tami twisted to and fro, posing like in the video, all the time keeping her legs open, pushing her pelvis forward, emphasizing the C-string, and maximizing its visibility. "Clothes! Clothes! Yay!" she chanted, giddy like a little girl.

Rod laughed, taking this to be a display of good-natured sarcasm. "Clothes", indeed! Hardly more than a thread, lodged between her lower lips. But as Tami continued dancing in the mirror, kicking to the side, doing some slow cartwheels and some other gymnast moves, his smile faded as he realized she really did consider herself to be wearing clothes, genuinely thrilled to be in her C-string.

He even started to feel his eyes getting wet. Yes, Tami had been naked for over three years, had long ago gotten used to being naked, had long ago lost any sense of modesty about every inch of her being on public display at all times. Yet he couldn't help but think that deep inside there was still that frightened, modest 18-year-old, that Girl in the Mirror, dying of shame at having to walk around naked, who was joyously celebrating her dream come true, a happy ending to her fable at long last.

He thought of that long ride home, when he had picked her up in Providence that dreary cold January day, the negative reaction of her father to seeing his daughter taken up with a black man, the sudden break of clouds over John Smithers's head when he decided it was OK, Tami's endless sucking of his penis on the way up to Campbell-Frank. That was probably the first time she had seemed at ease with being naked. Only later did he realize that she was deeply ashamed, looking for any way out of her predicament, desperate for any merest scrap of clothing. Well, now she had it!

The song ended and Tami had worked up a sweat. She playfully collapsed into Rod's arms. He kissed her deep, then held her away from him to look down again at her precious wardrobe.

"Tugs at your clit a lot," he observed.

"Oh Baby... With every motion. That's why it works. It turns me on as I'm wearing something." Her legs shook. "It is time for a f**k!!" And she pulled him toward the bedroom. Halfway there she undid his fly. She pulled him the rest of the way via his floppy but hardening dick.

. . . .

"Unhhh! Unhhh! OHHH!!"

Tami was cresting into her eighth orgasm. Rod looked at the clock radio. Thirty-two minutes. Exactly one every four minutes. He reached up and kneaded her nipples to extend her orgasm. She yelped accordingly.

After the last irregular spasms had spent themselves, she exhaled and lay down on his chest. She kissed him and then rose up to begin the ascent to number nine.

Rod looked at her sweating face in the near-total darkness. Then he looked at the C-string tied to the bedpost. Then outside at the streetlight. He thought of the 1991 World Series --

"Ummmm... "

An equation he had been working on on the dam site --

"Ooooohh yeah... "

That strange sound the fan belt on his Jeep had been making --

"Zhhhhh... oh wow..."

He got distracted by Tami, who now rose up to the crest of number nine. "Eeee... OHHH! Oh Rod!! OHHHH!!" Rather fast, that one.

Tami lay down on his chest again and stayed there, catching her breath. He expected her to rise up again but she just stayed there, rubbing his sides. Strange that she would be finished. Nine orgasms was usually just a warmup for her.

He thought of the future, when Tami would be wearing clothes. After a few weeks her wonderful all-over tan would be gone, replaced by the tan lines that white girls specialized in. And her ability to predict the weather with her nipples, and the sense she got of other people's feelings, those would probably fade away in time too. A shame, really. If only the whole world could be naked. The naked Tami was a kind of advanced human being that the world just wasn't ready for. But it would be all for the best. As a naked woman after graduation, in the world as it is, Tami would lead a severely restricted life, a life of horrible loneliness in a way.

Tami lifted her head and gave him a slow kiss. Then she slid off his dick and scooted down. She held the wet, hard dick in her hand. Then began licking up the sides. Slowly, philosophically, as if licking a lollipop while thinking on some profound question.

Rod smiled. He didn't have to come. In fact recently he hadn't been coming at all. "It's O.K., Babe," he said. Using his standard line, he said, "I'm a little tired anyway."

Tami opened her eyes wide and said, "Not... if... I... can... help... it!" Then she sat up cross-legged, straightened her throat, opened her jaw like a snake, and dropped her head to consume more of Rod's dick than she ever had before.

"Oh -- wow!" he couldn't help saying. How did she do that? The head of my dick must be all the way down her throat?

"Gahhhh," was the grunting sound Tami made as she pulled herself off his dick. As she smacked her lips, strands of saliva suspended from the tip. The saliva in the bottom of the throat must be really thick. Then she rubbed his dick head with her fingers in a way to make him jump.

He watched her do that for a few seconds. Then she tried to speak but couldn't. She cleared her throat. Her voice was guttural as she said, "Tonight, Rod, you will have multiple orgasms!"

Rod laughed at the joke, thinking of that time he had confessed to her that he was jealous of her orgasmic capacity. "Yeah, right Babe. One is fine."

"No, I've been doing some research," Tami said. "Ever hear of Tantra?"

He remembered reading about that a long time ago. "You mean, where the man doesn't get to come at all?"

"No, no, you misunderstand," Tami said, casually slapping his dick against her face. "You come without ejaculating. Take deep breaths, stop before you spurt, then you feel the spasms. Then they subside and you go up again. Only on the last orgasm do you ejaculate."

He was unconvinced. "Sounds kind of... contrived."

"No, no... the spasms without spurting are an orgasm like a woman has. Try it, please, Baby?"

Her green eyes were so wide and earnest. It was impossible to say no to Tami.

As she started sucking him again he realized how well she knew his body. Probably she knew that his mind had been elsewhere during sex... He felt bad about being false to her. But then all other feelings fell away as his excitement rose. Faster and faster, deeper and deeper, her bobbing head took in his dick. He breathed deeply as she had told him.

He felt himself getting up into "the zone", then felt that little gate open up in the base of his dick, the "pre-cum"... Tami sensed this and hopped up onto all fours so that he could mount her. He was more in control in this position so he could be more careful.

As he humped her he began to feel the big rush inside him and stopped thrusting. It subsided and he began thrusting again. Then it came up higher and he stopped again. Breathe, breathe...

Now that wonderful instant when his whole body was flooded with pure pleasure. But this was not fleeting, it went on for several seconds. Then his dick jumped and he felt the spasms, maybe four or five of them. But no spurting!

He came down and then started thrusting again. The big rush again, his whole body on a high. He just couldn't hold back this time. He kept going and his dick erupted what felt like a quart of semen into Tami's pussy. It kept on and on. It seemed like he would never stop squirting.

Afterward he flopped onto his back, gasping as if he'd just run up a mountain. Tami slid onto his chest. When he seemed able to speak, she ran her finger around his lips.

"So, lover... seemed like you did it."

Rod, back to earth now, was able to be objective. "That was great... but weird."

"You had two orgasms."

"That first one was well... I suppose it was an orgasm."

They lay there for a few moments.

"Thanks Babe," he said. "But you're still the champ. I don't think I can ever..."

"I'd say it was a good start."

They lay there and hugged. He kissed her one last time. Within five minutes they were fast asleep.

. . . .

Rod straightened his sleeve and looked down with mixed feelings at his new uniform. He glanced around and saw that he was in a big room. Tunemasters uniforms were milling all around. Playing with the slide of his trombone, he decided to sit down at one of the long tables near the sodas.

He looked around for Brigid. She was not hard to pick out.

Part 55

He wondered why he was fiddling with his trombone. Everyone else almost, had their instruments over on those cabinets on the side of the room. It was a pretty big place, maybe a cafeteria or something for this big ski resort, whose Winter Carnival the Tunemasters were marching in. Converted to a kind of waiting room for the marchers.

He was still not sure about these new uniforms. Sarge had explained that the effect was to be a bit more glitzy, so they had been jazzed up a little. There were now ruffles along the buttons and on the cuffs, and extra piping up and down. He supposed it made them look taller. The piping, though, was gold. Weren't the school colors supposed to be black and white?

"I'm not quite down with it either," his friend Jared said. Jared had wisely put his cymbals on the cabinets and was carefully sipping a soda he had gotten from the little serving table, which had sodas and pretty much nothing else. Just something to wet everyone's lips, he supposed, to get ready for playing. Jared and Rod looked down their uniforms, at their jackets with the big "T" over the right breast, the cummerbund, the long braided trousers with the now-gold piping, down to the long black boots.

He shifted a bit. This new thermal underwear, necessary because of the intense cold outside, was a bit itchy.

"Good thing it's not too hot," Jared said, reading Rod's thoughts. Their own thermals had gotten them hot while they were inside. These special-order ones didn't.

"Yeah... " He looked up at the TV screen mounted from the ceiling. A Vermont station, from Burlington, a brief news break. "And we will have live coverage of this year's Killington Winter Carnival, starting next." And now a long view of the route they would be marching, pure white, plowed snow, with ropes marking off the "street". Maybe there really was a street there in warm weather, but you couldn't tell now. Just to the side, a stand of skis and other equipment, then a kiosk that led to a path to the ski lifts, with a few people carrying skis to it. A big contraption that looked like a tractor, with a pile of snow behind it -- a snow making machine and a salt water tank, someone said. A little silo which contained a gift shop. And Christmas-style string lights hung over the route at intervals, held up by poles on each side. It was almost sundown -- for some reason this parade was at night -- but it was still hard for the camera to adjust to the sunlit whiteness. The camera got a little better adjusted and now one could see the orange electrical wires strewn along the sides of the packed snow "street". Lots of lights up.