Tami Beethoven
by Donny Laja

Part 26

The atmosphere in the crowded dining room was electric.

The seven onlookers stood around the seated, slightly overweight figure of Mayree, Tami and Rod's old friend, back in town for the St. Patrick's Day weekend. Mayree's husband Brad, tall and dark and silent as always, stood behind her, watching what she was doing with a quizzical interest. As was Rod. Not so quizzical was the interest of Georgene, Spica, Melissa and Jeane, their eyes glued to what was on the edge of the table, the brightly-lit, widely-spread crotch of Tami Smithers as she lay on her back.

"Ow!" their always-naked friend said.

"Stop jerking!" Mayree admonished, readjusting her sweatshirt, shifting in her jeans as she leaned forward in concentration.

"Zhhh," Tami said next, suppressing all motion, yet somehow giving the impression she was about to laugh.

The track lighting, like all eyes, was trained on Tami's partly green, partly reddish pubic hair, so bright that everyone could see each hair casting its own shadow. Peering closely through the bottoms of her bifocals, Mayree worked carefully with tweezers and swabs on what was turning into a hair-by-hair de-greening of Tami's lower hair. The smell of polish remover competed with the smell of Tami's musk to give the air a unique pungency.

This uncomfortable procedure was necessary unless Tami was to wait two months or so, up past graduation, for the green to grow out. The head hair was easy: Mayree, yesterday morning, had henna'd it, and Tami had shampooed it out an hour ago. But her lower hair -- "Tam, your shorties are as nappy as mine" -- had required the more permanent stuff. Which needed special care to remove.

Two of the TL's, Melissa and Jeane, helped by holding Tami's feet back and out so as to maximize the outstretching of her limber, gymnast's legs. Jeane's interest in Tami's crotch alternated with her interest in the toes cradled in her hands. She badly wanted to suck them, from "Hester" (her name for her Queen's right pinky toe) on up to "Hera" (the big toe), but held off.

"Ow! Christ, that hurts!" Tami said, once again almost giggling as if at her own stupidity.

That hair was right near her left lip. Having stretched it out to its greatest extent with the tweezer, Mayree wet the swab in the solution in the little cup next to her and dabbed the hair down to the root. Which then stung.

They had been like this, Mayree, Tami, and their rapt audience, for twenty minutes. They watched as Mayree now spread and inspected Tami's lips clinically, well apart and wet, in the bright lighting. They could see inside too, into her pink cave. Now Mayree pulled the hairs on the sides near the thighs as Tami cringed and tried not to cry out.

"OH! Shit!" Tami said.

"Sorry," Mayree said, examining the hair that she had yanked entirely out. She set it down carefully to the intense interest of the TL's who looked at it like a religious relic. "I think that one's time had just about come anyway."

A few more yanks and stings and Mayree seemed satisfied. Now: "Turn over, I've got to get the ones down near your winkie." Mayree had listened patiently to the TL's enthuse over lunch in front of the blushing Tami, and had decided to humor them by adopting some of their terminology.

As her husband and friends watched, Tami exhaled and lethargically rolled over. They were the motions of a woman with a heavy pelvic area, congested with the fluids of sexual desire, an inevitable outcome of Mayree's ministrations, and the fact that she hadn't had an orgasm since the three that Rod had given her upon awakening that morning.

Tami got on all fours and then lay her head down on her crossed hands. She stuck her butt out, legs spread so that her anus was clearly visible. As Mayree began pulling the hairs on the perineum one by one, Tami's toes wiggled and her anus twitched, signs of her frustration. Then another "Ow!"

"I'd love to lick her right now," Spica said, smacking her lips, though whether it was Tami's pussy or anus she was looking at was unclear.

"No licking!" Mayree said firmly. "Not for two hours at least. You don't want this remover in your mouth."

"Two hours!" Spica said.

"That's how long it takes to dry."

"You can have some too," Spica said, as if Tami was a pie that the TL's didn't mind sharing.

As she swabbed another hair, Mayree said, "Not me. I'm no funny bunny." A stern face that dissolved into a tolerant smile. Like most of Tami's old friends, Mayree found the TL's quaint and amusing, like eager kids.

This was a female affair so Rod and Brad decided to retreat and sit on the couch. As Rod watched from across the room, Tami's butt sticking into the girls' faces, he thought of her decision to "go green" for the parade yesterday. At first she was afraid it might be undignified. The grand marshals of previous years were always old professors or some other eminent personages. But then she decided that after all, her hair was her only clothes, and "One has to wear green, right?" And then she set things up with Mayree, who had done such a wonderful job on her on Tami and Rod's first date, the Black Formal, so long ago.

While Tami was gathering with the rest of the marchers yesterday Rod had lunch with Brad and Mayree, up from Boston, catching up on each other's lives, then the three of them had stationed themselves midway down the route. Campbell was a small town, largely an appendage of the college, and it seemed like every single person was out along Main Street. He wished the weather was a bit better. A damp, chilly day, the kind where the cold dampness just pierces right through you. Impossible to stay warm even in an overcoat and scarf, especially when standing waiting. And then a flurry began, wet early-spring flakes that looked as big as marshmallows.

The street was cleared and the sound of drums and horns told them the parade was nearing. Sure enough Tami was leading. She had been given the option of standing up in a float but had decided to just walk. As he knew well by now, feeling the earth against her bare feet gave her confidence and energy.

She plied the big marshal's stick in her hand, using it as a walking stick, as she paced carefully but proudly all alone in front, her bareness totally on view, wearing her nakedness as if it was the most resplendent outfit in the parade. Her hair was green and shiny, one of Mayree's masterpieces, dancing as she walked, framing her beautiful face and being the same shade of green as her eyes. The big snowflakes stuck to it like God was adding his own highlights to Mayree's handiwork.

Green sparkles were over the tops of her breasts, and down below on her concave tummy. Her green pubic hair was abundant, teased out and fluffy, as carefully done up as the hair on her head, and catching its share of snowflakes too. Green was also the color of her fingernails and toenails.

What was most striking was her bearing. Her feet paced the wet asphalt with the well-bred gait of royalty. And her smile and her wave to the crowds. She was like a good-natured and popular queen "doing my queen thing" with aplomb but also a good dose of whimsy.

And the cheering.

Everyone knew Tami, of course, and every single person whistled and applauded as she passed. It made Rod, once again, proud to be hers. And then he felt himself privileged as she saw him and ran over, giving him a big kiss and hug, before scampering back out to the middle of the street to continue her queenly duties, her breasts bouncing into place.

Now she went on and Rod and Brad and Mayree found themselves looking at the Mayor's float, then the firemen, then the high school band, the majorettes in long-sleeved leotards and protected from the cold by what looked like three layers of black tights.

Their last glimpse of Tami made them laugh once again. As her bare buns retreated from them they could see the green shamrocks painted in the exact center of each, jiggling very slightly with the motions of her tight glutes. "Good work, Mayree," Rod said with a chuckle. "Fine job," Brad said, giving Mayree a kiss.

Later the three of them went to Scholar's with half the rest of the town and watched Tami drink buckets of green beer, tie and untie about a dozen pairs of shoes with her toes, and give an only partly off-key rendition of "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling" while standing on top of the bar. They drank too but could not keep pace with their naked companion. By then it was dark, and he had to prop her up as she staggered through the slush back to the house.

As she fell face-down onto the bed and immediately started snoring, Rod contemplated her flushed nakedness, her slush-crusted soles, the now-smudged shamrocks, the disheveled green hair, with a mixture of joy and sadness. Tami Smithers had a happy, happy life. She was the most popular person in town. And yet it could not last...

Rod shook himself into the here and now as he heard Tami squeal and watched Mayree pull on and swab the last of the pubic hairs. No green left, Tami's lower hair was now back to its natural dark red. Her horniness was palpable. Her butt up in the air, the anus twitching, the lips below moist with arousal, the toes squirming. Rod felt his dick stirring and wished he could shoo everyone away so he could thrust in deep. Brad and Mayree had to get going for Boston momentarily anyway. Unfortunately he and Tami had invited the TL's for a reason. This was to be their "Tami-thon" afternoon.

The wait enforced by the polish remover procedure was something no one had planned on, though.

"Two hours!" Spica said again, like an outraged, spoiled child.

"Two... hours!" Mayree repeated sternly.

The TL's, who seemed to act in telepathic concert, took seats at the table, looking up at Tami from every angle. Between the four of them, they held her hands and her feet. Tami exhaled a ragged breath. Her head still down, she said, "Sorry guys."

Rod suddenly knew what to do. Time for the unveiling.

It was best done silently. He got up and retreated to the bedroom. When he came back he stood up next to Tami and held the tail up over her. The soft tendrils of the ends of the hairs whispered against her back, making her shiver. Without looking she knew what it was. "Ohhhh... yes..."

Part 27

The TL's looked at it open-mouthed. The new, improved "pony girl" tail that Katie had presented to Tami that time in the library when Sarah Wickland visited. The two-foot long hair was beautiful, blond with a shade of red. But all eyes quickly fastened on the incredibly long and thick dildo end. Finally Georgene untied her tongue. "Th - that's not... what I think it is...?"

"There's no way that's going to fit into her pussy!" Spica said.

Rod shook his head portentously, then gently directed the end toward Tami's anus, where the barest contact made his naked wife jolt.

"Oh... my... God!" Spica said. No one could see it but Spica's own buttocks clenched in response.

Rod put the tail into Georgene's hands. She held it reverently like it was fragile, even though considering the pony girl "industry" it was designed for, it could be termed, quite literally, "industrial strength". Then he got the remote out of his sweater pocket. It was a big remote with a lot of buttons and a little touch pad. In anticipation of this, the first actual try-out of the tail inside Tami, he had taped Ms. Wickland's business card to the bottom in case he and Tami had any questions.

He pressed the white button and the base of the dildo, near the hair, expanded to three inches across. Now his first words. "This is what you do at the beginning. It prevents the tail from being ejected during, uh, excitement phase. Press it again before taking it out." Another push of the white button and the base diameter shrank to its original inch and a half -- still huge, but workable for an experienced anus like Tami's. "The dildo part works by pressing against the wall inside Tami to touch her G-spot."

The TL's nodded. Tami's internal center of pleasure was a topic they had studied and discussed much.

He playfully threw the remote to Spica. "Experiment a bit."

The punky 19-year-old TL, fascinated, pressed another button and then another, as bumps appeared and disappeared at various points. Georgene almost dropped the moving thing in her hands while Spica whooped with glee. Then like children she and Jeane and Melissa started fighting over the remote. They eventually settled on taking turns, trying out all the buttons, and then the touch pad, a refined delight. Moving one's finger along the touch pad caused a bump to move along the shaft of the huge dildo. It was amazingly responsive and moved almost as quickly as the controlling finger. Tami, her face against the table, eyes closed, smiled, amused by the sounds of their childish delight.

Now the naked student turned to look up at Rod with heavy-lidded eyes. As if saying, "Now is the time. Please satisfy me!"

Rod got the remote back and took control, like an instructor showing his students how something was done. Dabbing the dildo generously with a jar of vaseline he had brought, he set the greasy end against Tami's anus and gently pushed.

"Ohhh..." The TL's didn't know whether to look at her distending sphincter or her face. It was more than amazing to them. Though Spica might not have admitted it, not one of them had ever been anally penetrated themselves.

"Ohhh... oh God..." Tami's breaths became deep and deliberate, as if she was trying to inhale the dildo.

Georgene leaned forward and said, "How do you do it?"

"Make... believe... I'm... pooping... push... down... ohhhh..."

Rod twisted the tail and slowly increased the penetration until it was in about six inches. Georgene and Melissa each grabbed one of Tami's hands and held tight in support.

"Ohhh... oh man..."

Rod was beginning to get concerned. This was as far as he had ever put a dildo inside Tami. He knew she was capable of more, but he had never witnessed it himself and he always had a fear of hurting her. He bent down next to her face and said, "Are you O.K. Babe?"

Tami, beginning to sweat, swallowed and nodded. For about the millionth time Rod marveled at her self-control, her ability to control her body and make it do what she wanted. He figured out a long time ago that she had learned it the hard way, during that awful freshman year, learning to control her intense desire for clothes, almost shaking at times from the strain of resisting the urge to grab something and put it on.

The TL's leaned closer to her butt. Only half the dildo was in. Jeane wondered if Tami's flat tummy would begin to bulge outward from the displacement. Brad and Mayree couldn't help standing up and watching from across the room. The fully clothed friends watched intently as the naked young woman continued to be anally penetrated in their midst.

"Zhhh..." Rod gently pushed it in two more inches, then felt some resistance. He had met the top wall of Tami's rectum. Tami would have to shift a little to make the dildo go through what she called her "inner butthole", up into her colon.

Tami lifted her head and her shoulders, then twisted her hips by getting off her left knee and planting her foot flat upon the table. When she was ready she nodded and Rod pushed in some more, this time meeting no resistance as the dildo began its journey up her digestive tract. Tami's mouth opened as if the object was about to emerge past her tonsils.

Pushing in was easy now. Rod slid in the last two inches and then pushed in the first of the two little flanges designed to rest on each side of her sphincter, one inside and one outside. Otherwise the tail would fall out or be sucked in by the natural motion of Tami's internal muscles. Tami's anus was now seated against the beginning of the horse-style hair. The TL's sat there open-mouthed with awe at this remarkable creature in front of them.

The naked girl took a couple of deep breaths. Jeane noticed no bulging, Tami's tummy was as concave and smooth as always. Then the naked student pushed up with her arms and stood up on her knees, the rest of her body upright, her head almost up in the little chandelier, the newly swabbed pubic hairs teased out and fluffy.

Awkwardly, with the help of the TL's and Rod, she climbed down from the table, bare feet slapping onto the hardwood floor, and lurched stiffly to the center of the room. Without thinking about it everyone got up and gathered in a circle around her.

She stood there, bolt upright as if "at attention", hands at her sides, her breathing ragged. Then a crooked smile. "Pony Tami, at your service."

Rod supposed he should laugh though he couldn't. The power dynamics were now clear to him. She was putting herself at the mercy of whoever had the remote. The situation that, after all, the tail had been designed for, at Taft McNamee's farm with its dominant owners and submissive ponies.

Rod pressed the white button and Tami inhaled and closed her eyes, obviously intensely feeling the expanding bulb within her. Her toes spread, grasping the floor, as if she was in danger of falling off the earth.

It had to be Rod's turn first, but he was feeling magnanimous and wanted to make it up to the TL's for not being able to lick Tami's pussy as they had fervently planned. He gave the remote to Georgene, who he supposed could be best trusted to start gently.

Georgene looked down at the remote carefully and slid her finger carefully along the touch pad.

"Eeeee!" Tami leapt up seemingly about three feet into the air, arching her back! Her eyes bugged out!

This greatly concerned everyone. Then Georgene did it again.

"Eeeee!" Tami leapt up again and then fell forward and crumpled to her knees. Rod was about to tell Georgene to stop when he realized Tami was quivering and on the verge of orgasm.

A few presses of buttons and Georgene had forced Tami down to all fours, where she shouted and bucked and launched into a terrific climax. As she spasmed they noticed that the tail, moved by her anal contractions, waved to and fro rhythmically in a wide sweep like a parade color guard waving a flag. After a few more irregular flourishes the tail subsided and once again hung down straight.

Georgene handed the remote to Melissa, who stroked the touch pad and got Tami to yelp and jump back up onto her feet. Tami realized how ridiculous she looked and started laughing as Melissa, relieved that all was well, stroked and stroked the touch pad as Tami leapt here and there, practically up to the ceiling, nearly bumping into people and furniture. She jumped toward the back window, breasts bouncing, and then fell onto all fours again as she spasmed and spasmed, her tail again wagging wildly.

"Oh Jesus..." Tami tried to focus her gaze on Rod. "This thing is incredi -- eeee!!"

The remote had been passed to Spica, who did not show mercy. Laughing, Tami yelped and yipped and jumped, feet slapping against the floor, finally succeeding with fumbling fingers in sliding the back window open and escaping into the back yard.

It was a warm sunny day, not like yesterday, though the outside was sodden with mud and melting snow. The TL's followed Tami outside. Rod, Brad and Mayree, once getting over their amazement, had no choice but to follow. When they got to the back yard they saw the TL's at the four corners of the little yard, throwing the remote to each other in a game of keep-away as Tami frantically lurched toward one and then the other. Her bare feet, caked with mud, slipped and soon mud was covering her breasts, her thighs, her knees, her hands.

It took three TL's to hold her but they did so as Spica flicked the touch pad furiously, causing the naked pony girl to flail about wildly and scream, crazy-eyed, her feet kicking up bits of mud, her hand stretching out uselessly for the remote that was three feet past her grasp. There was underlying good humor. As the orgasm subsided Tami gasped, "You-ll -- pay -- for this -- Spica -- damn you!!"

Tami wrested free and shot through the bushes. The TL's, more prone to worry about getting scraped, had to go around the far end. Rod and Brad and Mayree followed, laughing at this bizarre turn of events. When they emerged out onto the street they saw the pony-girl, her tail swishing behind her, pumping her arms and trying to maintain a rhythmic, athletic pace as she pounded the wet broken sidewalk with tough bare feet, trying to increase the distance between herself and her tormentors.

Rod thought to himself: what is the range of that remote? Tami being Tami, she was soon well ahead of the TL's, almost at the corner of Spruce Street by now, over two hundred feet. Yet the odd splays of leg and jerking of pelvis showed that the remote, now in the hands of the quickly tiring Jeane, was still having its effect.

Rod and his friends followed the TL's up to the corner of Spruce and then turned up the path to Hightop Park. They would never forget what they saw as they pulled even with the TL's at the park gate. Way over across the park, just shy of the woods, Tami had slipped in a patch of mud and was face down in it, her butt up in the air. The TL's had her where they wanted her and did not move as they passed the remote around between them as they caught their breath from running. Tami's bare sweaty butt, glistening in the spring sunshine, heaved up and down as she climaxed for the, well, who was keeping count? The tail swished to and fro, every 0.8 seconds...

Now, trying to get to her feet, her toes squirming and sliding, she slipped and flopped onto her back, all but covered now in mud from face to feet like a naked primitive dancing in a fertility rite, her muddy tummy and hips bucking up with the spasms as if she was having intercourse with the air, the sky, the entire universe.

Rod and Brad and Mayree took in this scene in silence and wonder. Then Brad, who had not gotten any more talkative since his days as Campbell-Frank's most laconic SGA President, spoke up. "I know this sounds wack, but I envy her. I wish I had her ability to feel all that pleasure."

Rod looked up at his friend and then out again at Tami in the distance. As if by rote, he said, "Well, she deserves it, after what she's been through."

"She certainly does."

After another moment, Rod said, "No, you're not wack."

Part 28

"G - got - to - be - k - kidding - mmee - ohhh!"

The blonde guy (prospect no. 3) was so obviously phony in his attempt at bad ballad singing that Tami's appraisal was echoed by the TL's.

"You got that right, mi amor," Rosaria said, looking sideways at the TV as she plunged her tongue deep into the pink cave between the lower lips that she was spreading with her fingers.

"He's better than number 1 though," Myra said, sitting next to Rosaria, bending forward to suck one of the upturned nipples while rubbing the other one between her fingers. "Number 1 wasn't even as good a faker."

Jeane, on the other side of Rosaria, smacked her lips as she interrupted her sucking of Tami's toes. "You should have seen last night. I'm surprised the three guys didn't turn that bimbo into a dedicated lesbian."

"Maybe she WAS a lesbian," Melissa said, sitting on the floor, resting her head next to Tami's, sucking on one of the smoothies Tami had made for them, now and then handing it up to Tami's lips so she could have a sip. "This is all a fake, you know."

Responding to Jeane, Tami said, "Th - this is on every night??"

"Three nights a week," Jeane said. "I admit I'm hooked."

"You must l - lose three IQ points every time you watch this -- ohhh," Tami said. Rosaria had just inserted her greased thumb into her anus and was turning it round and round inside her. Then she sucked Tami's clit hard in between her teeth.

"Khhh! Chkkk! Gaaahh! Ohhhh!" The whole couch rocked as Tami exploded again, the four TL's grabbing whatever part of her that was handy with a mixture of lust and tenderness.

"I think -- " Melissa was about to say something but waited as Tami kicked through one last, unexpected spasm. "I think a lot of lesbians watch this."

"Like us," Myra said with a snort. Among them only Spica, who was not there tonight, was a declared lesbian. But the standing joke was they made an exception for licking and sucking Tami.

Tami, catching her breath, said, "Jeane... Doesn't this show make you stupid?"

"It's just fun."

"I suppose so... A waste of time though... ohh..."

The three TL's on the couch turned Tami over, once again. This gave Melissa another chance to do some deep-tongue kissing as she turned her head up to Tami's. Rosaria, recently inducted into the delights of licking Tami's rear entrance, stuck her tongue into the orifice that Tami had cleaned via enema earlier, performing the ablutions in the bathroom as the TL's stood around and watched. At Rosaria's request Tami had done an extra strawberry enema she had brought. As a result Tami was scrumptious! Jeane got to licking the toes on the other foot, trying out the taste of a grapefruit-scented lotion she had bought. As for Myra, she contented herself with tracing her fingers over the beautifully formed, tanned back, running her fingers down to the sacral dimples and onto each butt cheek, then back up to the shoulders, making Tami shiver.

They had been like this for over an hour, another "girls' night in" at Tami's place, on a night when Rod was working late. At Tami's request it was always a low-key affair. "Let's just hang out like we're in the dorm," she said the first time. "I kind of miss those days." So they either watched TV or sat around chatting. Though there were probably no hang-out sessions in dorms where one girl was naked and constantly being licked and sucked, propped up, spread out, or like tonight munched on like a five-foot-five hero sandwich, all the while chatting with the rest to the extent she could.

Tonight began with sitting on the floor, in their stocking feet (except for Tami, of course), over potato chips and smoothies, moved to an intense session with Tami pinned on top of the kitchen counter, her ankles up past her face, from whence they carried her recovering body to the couch to watch the latest "reality" show.

"When is the Spring Zing?" Jeane said in between licks of "Isis" (Tami's right third toe) and "Osiris" (the fourth toe).

"N - next Th - thursday... Seven o'clock in the M - multipurpose roommm... R - reception later... ohhh... But it's at the air - port..."

"The airport?"

"The -- ffaculty -- cafe is under c - construction -- so -- th-there's a nnnice -- ohhh! -- restaurant there -- the C - county airport... "

"County airport?" Melissa said.

"It's about five miles down Route 218," Myra said.

Jeane said, "What's your entry going to be like? A dress? Or a sports outfit?"

"I'm not tellin' -- ohhh -- God, what a creep!"

Prospect no. 2 had just said to an off-camera interviewer, "I think like girls just like want to be basically controlled?"

"I'M not going out with HIM," Myra said, grabbing Tami's right butt cheek forcefully.

Rosaria, diddling Tami's clit from below, extracted her tongue to say, "He's just brave in saying what a lot of guys think."

"You can let them think they're in control even when they're not," Jeane said. "It flatters their ego."

"But if you do th -- that," Tami said, "th - they might get into the -- ohhh" -- Rosaria was diddling her clit more and more furiously now, and the others quickened their attentions to bring Tami up to another crest -- "habit -- OHHH!"

Tami bucked and bucked as the TL's held on. Rosaria timed her diddles at 0.8 seconds and then, judging her time carefully, decelerated very slightly. This extended her orgasm as hoped.

"Ohh -- ohhh -- oh hi -- Roddd!!"

Rod, standing there in his suit and briefcase, smiled and kissed the gasping face of his wife.

As Tami quieted down again, Jeane said, "What do you think, Rod?"

Rod enjoyed watching his wife "come down" and waited until she was back at what, having been educated by the TL's, he had learned to call her "plateau" stage. He thought for a moment. "I think you shouldn't let the guy get away with thinking he's in control if he isn't. The important thing is to be honest."

"Sometimes it's diplomatic to lie a little," Jeane said, pensively licking Tami's little toe like it was a lollipop.

"Well you don't have to be honest right away," Rod said, speaking louder as he retreated to the kitchen and took off his coat. "The church I went to as a kid, the preacher would say, 'Never go to bed with a argument unsettled.' That's bullshit, of course. Just get some rest and things will look better in the morning."

As he returned, he said, "What he MEANT was, don't keep secrets, if there's a disagreement, deal with it, and soon."

He had no jealousy about the TL's involvement in his wife's life. He was actually glad there was someone else to have Tami's needs taken care of, now that work was heating up and he had to come home late and tired.

The only restriction, which he and Tami agreed on, was that the TL's couldn't use the tail inside her. That touch-pad was incredibly powerful and he was afraid Tami might injure herself jumping around like that. And both of them were a little unsure that the TL's could be trusted to be gentle in inserting such a huge object in such a vulnerable place.

Even he himself was wary about the touch pad. Though its operation was silent, it seemed too much like torture, like whipping her from the inside. He conceded it was his own hang-up; Tami herself felt nothing but intense pleasure. But he much preferred the more mellow delights afforded by the purple button, which turned the tail into a simple vibrator. Sunday afternoon had been particularly pleasant. He had sat on the porch, taking in the sunshine, watching the last of the snow melt, the remote in his hand, as Tami writhed on the floor next to him, periodically spasming and moaning, the buzzing inside her faintly audible. Trent had stopped by and the two men had chatted about this and that, idly watching Tami as she climbed one orgasmic peak after another, lost in her own world.

Now he sat in the big chair, sipping an orange juice, and watched the TL's feast on her. He was impressed with their dedication to her. And he remembered what Georgene said once. "Tami is our feminist hero. Men stripped her, but she came back in her nakedness and defeated them." Sounded almost like Jen.

He looked up at the TV and said, "Oh God. Not again." That idiotic dating show.

"Their p - plan to make me s - stupid," Tami said.

"For you, Tam, that would take a long long time." Rod said. He snorted as he saw Prospect Number 2 try to sweep tonight's bimbo off her feet and fall on his butt.

And now the big moment when the bimbo made her selection. Would it be Prospect No. 1, Prospect No. 2, or Prospect No. 3? Unfortunately Tami was cresting again. Rosaria had turned her onto her side and her bare foot flung out, blocking Myra's view. Myra tried to reach out and push it out of the way.

Biting her lip the blonde on the screen said, "I pick -- "

"Ohhhh... ohhhh! OHH!"

"Shhhhh!!" the TL's said in unison.

"Mmmphh... mmphhh... mmphhh... " Tami stifled her remaining spasms with a mighty effort.

The bimbo lingered speechless for an excruciatingly long time. Then she said, "Number 2!"

"Give me a break!" the four TL's said together. Tami, catching her breath, said, "That girl is stuuuu - pid!" Sounding like her 19-year-old friends, except for the orgasmic moans, of course.

Now the credits rolled onto the screen and Tami caught her breath and staggered to her feet and sat in the big chair with Rod, her bare leg draped over his knee. The TL's knew it was time to go. By the time Rod came home they could hang out for a bit but not too long.

After they left, Tami curled up in Rod's lap like a satisfied cat. Strong as she was, she knew how to act like she needed his protection. It made him feel good, pretense though it was.

Tami stroked the limp package within the pants. "You want some tonight, Baby?"

"Maybe I can dream about it, Babe. Sorry but I'm just about pooped."

. . . .

Scene: same living room, the next evening.

Event: Second meeting of the SGA Activities Day Committee.

Personnel: Seated on chairs taken from the kitchen, Celine, dressed in a fluffy black sweater over a pink blouse, jeans, hiking boots with white socks, little assignment pad, pencil; and her roommate Lorinda, in buttoned sweater over nerdy white shirt, black pants, saddle shoes with green socks, white loose leaf sheet over a textbook, pen.

Seated on the long couch: Myra, black flannel shirt under a blue parka, long wool skirt, tights, Birkenstock sandals over thick brown socks, laptop; and Roberto, SGA President, athletic sweatshirt over Oxford-collar shirt, jeans, fake-snakeskin boots, a stack of papers in his hands.

Seated, or rather slouched, on the big easy chair: Trent, in long black coat over a plaid lumberjack shirt, purple velour pants, Pro Keds with blue socks, note pad, pen.

Seated on the floor, leaning against the easy chair: Committee Head Tami, no clothes, right knee up with a notepad on the thigh, pen in left hand; and on the floor in front of her left foot, a clipboard, rested on which was a pen grasped between her second and third toes.

Finally, on the little couch, Samantha, head of the Inter-Greek Council. Samantha was one of the sorority pledges dared into streaking across campus that fateful September evening three and a half years ago. Tami had been caught by campus police, and she had not. On this evening Samantha wore an exquisitely tailored jacket with matching V-neck blouse, houndstooth pants, and argyle socks under ballet slippers. She was fitfully engaged to a blueblood at Dartmouth named Sterling whom she suspected of cheating. She had never had an orgasm.

Roberto handed out the papers, a one-page chart, and waited for the others to absorb its contents.

The first reaction was a snort from Celine. "What the hell is this?"

"My proposed layout for the Multipurpose Room on Activities Night," Roberto said presidentially.

"That's not what I mean," Celine said.

In student government there are two groups of people: the ones who make the noise, and the ones who do the work. Roberto was mostly a noise-maker but the serious types gathered here gave him some respect because, unlike the previous two presidents, he at least did some work. Though not very well.

"You put the Gay Lesbian Bisexual Transgender Alliance next to the ROTC?" Samantha said incredulously.

"The Arab Student Union next to the Jewish Student Union??" Tami said with amusement.

"Planned Parenthood next to the Right to Life Committee!?" Trent said, beginning a laugh that quickly spread.

"Some of these folks, they deserve it," Lorinda said humorlessly. Her roommate, Celine, rolled her eyes at Tami, who smirked in sympathy.

Roberto, at a loss, said, "I was hoping the juxtaposition... the juxtaposition (he liked to say this word)... of opposing groups would put them in contact and get them to know each other better."

"Roberto," Celine explained patiently, "This might not be the right time. It's a nice idea but if it fails it fails big."

"So when else and how else can we get them into contact?"

There was silence. He had a point. The campus was more contentious recently. When else could these strident activist types, who stayed away from each other as far as possible, be forced into proximity? They all had a strong interest in showing up at Activities Night.

Tami exhaled, scratched her nipple with the end of a pencil, making her breast jiggle for a second, then tapped the pen in her toes, looking around the room. She waited for three or four beats and then said, "Maybe he's right. I say let's go for it."

"If it fails, it fails big," Celine repeated. "Well, okay, if you're in, I'm in."

The amazed consensus was soon achieved. Tami as Committee Chair wrote it down in the Official Minutes. While writing the same thing on the pad with her toes, just as neatly, to send to the SGA Secretary.

"Ooo ooo," Trent said, making chimp sounds as he looked at Tami's busy foot. Myra, the TL, followed with her own "Ooo ooo!", maybe a bit more lustfully.

Tami smiled as she continued writing, with just the barest knowing eye-flick at Myra. "I'm a polywriter."

"A what?" Samantha said.

"A Thomas Jefferson invention," Celine, a history major, said. "But he used a steel bar to connect the two pens."

"Maybe started with his toes, who knows?" Tami said.

"He probably diddled two slave girls at once that way," Trent said. This made Tami and Celine chuckle.

Tami's phone rang, not the cell phone, but the phone on the wall.

"Excuse me," she said, handing her pad to Trent. "Be right back."

They saw Tami disappear and waited. And waited. Finally Trent got on with the next order of business, what to do about publicity.

After a space of ten minutes Tami came back. Trent, who had known her the longest, saw the change. She looked shaken, like she'd seen a ghost.

The business of the committee finished up shortly after. Trent stayed behind.

"Tam, what's wrong? What was that phone call about?"

The naked girl exhaled, and as she blinked and looked up at Trent he saw her eyes were a little moist and red.

"It was Jen's dad," she said. "He says he's found Henry Ross."