Tami Beethoven


Part 1

“Here’s some burnt connective tissue,” she said, wiping a small grease splatter off her nipple and forking three strips of bacon onto Rod’s plate. Before turning back to the stove she snapped off a piece for herself. Burnt connective tissue tasted so good sometimes, especially on a late winter morning like this.

Her comment was playing to her vegetarian guests, Jen and Leisha, married three years ago under the laws of the State of Vermont, who were taking in Tami’s famous soy flour pancakes. Dressed in flannel shirts, jeans, and sneakers with nice thick wool socks, they also took in the trim butt cheeks as Tami worked the stove, cheeks that were always bare like the rest of her and were a prime display of her trademark tan. It was well observed in the Campbell-Frank College community that Tami’s summer skin was copper, but her winter skin was a light brown, a change like the summer and winter colors of certain birds. But at any time of year, her permanently nude body was one of the glories of the local countryside.

She turned to slide another pancake onto Jen’s plate. “Nice, what is that, burgundy, Tam?” Jen said. Tami stood back, playfully tossing her shoulder-length hair like in a shampoo commercial, then looking down to her full length nudity. Her hair, her fingernails, her pubic hair (“lower hair”, she called it), and her toenails were all the same reddish color, a shade lighter than her natural hair color. “No, more magenta-ish. The box calls it ‘Plum’,” she said. “Goes well.” “Thanks. I might stick with this for a while.” “I still like the all-black look on you.”

As Jen said this she brushed aside a few of the beer bottle caps that had some time ago spilled over the top of the big round oatmeal carton that graced the end of the table. Most of the caps reflected Tami’s favorite brand. The carton had been there a year but, still, that was a whole lot of caps. Behind the mountain of caps, on the wall, a bulletin board with various pictures and notices, many way out of date. And a little framed note that said, in Tami’s neat hand,

“Would you spend your life
With a naked wife?”

Next to that, a Pawtucket Red Sox hat, push-pinned into the board.

Rod, about ten minutes from having to leave for work, ready for the outside world in his gray button-down shirt, dark pants and engineer’s boots, looked up from reading this morning’s news on his laptop. He reflected on how Tami’s appearance had changed over the past three years. Her face, for one thing. Longer, a bit more angular, more like a mature woman. Looking back at those old photos now, like from the Black Formal he had taken Tami to during her first semester, her face seemed more babyish, almost chubby. Now it was more “beautiful”, as if to catch up with those bright green eyes.

Her body, too, was a bit more angular, the muscles slightly better defined, especially around the midriff and that tight little butt typical of white girls. Her breasts seemed a bit larger. Remarkably they did not sag, being without the benefit of a bra all this time. Maybe not so remarkable. When she was a sophomore Tami had dug up a study showing that bras, for all their other purposes, do not really prevent sagging. Sounded wrong, but in Tami’s case the theory was correct.

Looking at her matching hair and nails, Rod was glad that her personal fashion sense, or what fashion choices life had permitted her in light of her allergy, had calmed down. That sophomore year, at least the second half, was a wild ride. Blazing colors, half-buzz cuts, shaving into a “T” for Tami, Bride of Frankenstein shocks — Tami’s crotch was like a dazzling billboard bopping around the campus and town, making it even more the center of attention that it already was wherever she went. Her upper hair was no less flamboyant, one month almost a Mohawk, the next green dreadlocks, and usually different color nail polish on each finger and toe. It was a trial to be seen with her, though he never admitted it. Just when he was hoping people would get used to this naked girl walking around, she calls attention to herself.

Then that summer internship in Germany, working with a famous math professor on six-dimensional polymers or whatever it was — he never could quite understand her attempts to explain it, even though he was about to complete an engineering degree with two years of calculus. When she came back in August she was so enthusiastic. “Germany is such a totally nude friendly country. It’s where nudism began. They go out naked to the parks. I’d walk out and, it was like, I’m not the only one for once. It was so nice not being stared at. Everyone was so polite and grown-up about it. One day they had an exhibit at an art museum; it was a really hot day, so if you went naked you got in free. I was just one of the crowd. I wished all the time you could be there and we’d be naked together. Of course” they were on the bed at the time, late at night, “I wouldn’t be able to control myself, looking at this! Roarrr!” Erenköy Escort Whereupon she grabbed his dick, swung it around from the base like a floppy baseball bat, then took it into her throat.

When she came back from that summer she was full of German phrases. He had learned a little bit from his father, who had been stationed there during his Army days, and had thought it a military and harsh language. But then he heard Tami speak it in a gentle, musical way and it was enchanting. “I love the way you wrap your lips around those umlauts,” was his favorite phrase for a while.

She had also, really for the first time, embraced what she called “the theory of nudism” — the beneficial effect of the elements on bare skin. She was determined to live in as natural a state as possible and it was almost as hard to take as The Year of the Dazzling Pubic Hair. She let her legs and armpits go unshaved, let her hair grow wild and long, till it was almost to her butt. And she would take long hikes at night in the woods behind the house. He had quite a shock the first time he woke up in the middle of the night to see a wild naked white woman, autumn leaves in her hair, perched in the opened bedroom window, dirt-covered toes curling over the sill, green eyes glowing in the dark, then pouncing across the room onto him, pulling the covers off, commandeering his dick, and jumping on it to ride him through her many orgasms, his crotch scratched by crumpling leaves that had gotten caught in her lower hair. She did this a number of times until the novelty wore off.

Maybe he was too buttoned-down. Maybe there was a wildness inside him that she was trying to tap, without saying so. Certainly when they were alone she was wild enough for both of them. But it was good to see her calm down and settle on “Plum”.

He returned to reading his laptop. Tami kissed the shaved smoothness of his ebony scalp and scooted in across from him, beside her old roommate Jen. While shoveling in her third helping of potatoes she turned a bit, drew her leg up toward the microwave with her gymnast’s flexibility, and with her dexterous toes tapped in ninety seconds for the eggs. A flick of her pinky toe and it turned on.

“Ooo ooo ooo,” Leisha said in a raspy voice. Tami smiled. Her friends sometimes made chimp sounds when she used her feet like hands. For her it had been a natural progression, going around in bare feet for three years with toes always out there and available. It also made the wedding band more noticeable, on the third toe of her left foot, matching the larger one which Rod wore in the conventional place.

“Going to Killington today?” Rod asked. (The biggest ski center in Vermont.)

“Not sure. Might be too warm,” Jen said, leaning against Leisha. They were more or less bumming around the region until Leisha’s next anthropology conference in Montreal. Jen, daughter of wealth, was conducting a very low-key job search, hoping to land an assistant professorship next fall.

Rod tapped a few keys. “Says it’ll be cloudy today, possible rain, up to 40.”

Tami stretched and thrust out her breasts. “No, that’s wrong.”

Jen smiled. “Accu-tits weather.”

The naked 22-year-old got up and stretched again, giving Jen and Leisha a mouth-watering view of her breasts riding up on her perfectly formed body. She tapped on her dark brown, permanently erect nipples with her index fingers and then flicked them up and down, making her breasts jiggle, giggling as her guests swooned. “Let me go out and check. I forgot the mail yesterday anyway.”

After she had gone, Rod, checking sports scores, said, “See Tam’s latest rescue?”

Jen and Leisha looked at each other with a flash of realization. “So that wasn’t a dream.”

“No, another girl from Teaser’s.” Rod exhaled. “Luci, the manager, called around midnight. I keep telling Tam it’s not her place to put herself out so, but you know how she is. At least this one was just weepy and drunk. We put her on the couch in the sun room.”

“I think Herr Remmler would have approved,” Jen said, referring to the deceased professor emeritus at Chalfont who had willed this little house to Tami and her husband for as long as she was associated with the college. Rod shrugged helplessly. Providing emergency shelter for wayward strippers was one of many things he had to resign himself to, as husband of Queen Tami the Nude.

Tami returned sorting mail in her hands, tapping last night’s fluffy snow off her toes, having padded silently down the driveway to the mailbox and no doubt waved at the ever-present Mrs. McBreer across the street. Having sampled the outside air, her nipples could give a more accurate forecast. “It’s about 25 now, going up only to 35. Clear all day.”

Leisha said, “Clear tomorrow too?”

“Vielleicht,” Tami said, parking her butt down where it was before. One of the German words she still occasionally used — they knew by now that “vielleicht” means “probably”.

Another Göztepe Escort huge scoop of potatoes into her mouth, to the amusement of Jen and Leisha. It was often remarked that during the cold months, Tami ate like a hog.

They breakfasted silently for a moment, Rod reading his laptop, the two African-American women wiping up the last of the syrup as they leaned against each other, about as true as true love can get.

Rod could sense it before it actually happened. Beneath the table, Tami’s snow-encrusted toes now caressed the crotch of his pants. “How about a quick go-round?”

Part 2

“Babe, you’re going to kill me,” he said for about the ten thousandth time.

“You’re the one who attacked me, last night,” the naked girl countered.

“It was more like you attacking me,” he said.

“That was only the second time.”

“And the third.”

After a quick wink to Leisha, Jen quietly slid under the table. A quick inhale from Tami ensued.

“Thanks, Jen,” Rod said. The experiments that Tami had been coerced into undergoing at Chalfont during that awful freshman year had created within her an insatiable sex drive which had not diminished after all this time. Rod knew that Tami’s dedication to him was total, but also knew that he just did not have the time or the energy, or maybe the staying power, to keep her from climbing the walls all by himself.

It got worse after that bra and panties that had been so diabolically designed for her at Chalfont, with the bristles and dildos inside, got too uncomfortable for her to wear. It was a shame. It was the only thing she could wear after her allergy set in. They would be happily hanging out on the porch on a fall evening, him in his sweats and her in that bikini, conversation interrupted only by her quivering now and then as she worked the remote in her hand. Afterward she would be sated and happy for hours. But then, not far into her sophomore year, she felt confined with those straps around her back and her hips. According to Dr. Kantor, the behavioral therapist at Chalfont who had been assigned to cure her clothes aversion, it was simply another manifestation of the allergy.

Now the bristle bra and dildo panties hung, unused, in the closet. Add to this the odd fact that Tami just could not reach orgasm by her own hands. The help of others was just necessary. Rod had adjusted to that fact a long time ago. So he appreciated Jen’s help. Besides, Jen had a kind of seniority.

Under the table, Jen’s tongue worked her magic. It never took long with Tami. She swallowed, then lay her head back, eyes half-closed. Then soft, breathy moans escaped between her deepening breaths. Tami’s orgasms had a wonderful diversity, every one was different, but the general signs of her ascent were well known. One foot came up to brace against the wall next to the microwave, as if she was about to defy gravity and walk up sideways. Leisha cradled the other foot in her lap. Toes spread and the naked young woman swallowed quickly, then held her breath as she waited for the onslaught. Rod lifted his coffee off the table.

“Zhh!! Zhh!! Zhh!!” Eyes exploded open. Her knees jerked up with each jolt, banging up against the table and causing plates to clatter (but not coffee to spill). Rod disengaged himself from today’s news and looked at his beautiful wife. One could only smile. He never tired of seeing her face registering the greatest physical pleasure a person can know. This was a really violent one, her body showed incredible strength — he almost believed she could lift a car with her upward jerks. He admired Jen’s virtuosity. He had gotten better at oral sex over the past few years, but maybe it takes a woman to really know what works best on another woman.

In fact he was convinced of it. Tami and her female “fans” (as he thought of them) seemed to occupy a world different from his. A totally female world. The last time Jen and Leisha visited was memorable. It was one of those Saturdays he’d had to work. He left after lunch, Tami sitting like she often did, cross-legged on top of the living room table, with her two seated friends holding her hands. Jen had brought some white wine and bread and cheese; Jen liked to bring in some elegant props and it was unspoken that they were getting ready for one of their little “events”.

He got to the project — restoring an old dam near the Canadian border — and it was hard for him to concentrate. His mind wandered so much that the jeep he was driving almost drifted off the service road at one point. He kept wondering, what are they doing to her now? His mind relaxed after about three o’clock, realizing they must be finished and sitting around, maybe while Tami took one of her frequent afternoon naps.

The job took longer than he thought. At six he called home but there was no answer. He left a message on the machine promising to be back at nine sharp. When that time finally rolled around, bleary-eyed and exhausted, he rolled Acıbadem Escort into the driveway and stumbled into the living room.

He was stunned. They were still at it. Tami was on the table, on all fours, covered in sweat, her hair dripping around her face. Behind her, Jen was slowly working a big ribbed dildo in and out of her rectum, while licking her pussy, drawing out the lips, poking at the clit with the tip of her tongue. Leisha, sitting on the other end, had drawn the end of Tami’s stretched breast into her mouth, vigorously sucking on the nipple while reaching over to rub the other nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Tami’s whole body was tight as a drum, her toes twitching, suspended right on the brink.

Had they been going all this time? Jen and Leisha were still fully dressed, not a button undone. Had Tami been pleasured for nine hours straight? Had they given her a breather? How many times had she come? Were there any limits at all to the sexual capacity of his naked wife? Questions flooded his suddenly awake mind. The wine had almost all been drunk, some crumbs of bread still on the plate. It was as if Tami was the main course.

He had sometimes resented it — he sometimes imagined they were seeing how many orgasms they could get out of her, playing her like a pinball machine. Yet that was not it. It was something more like communion — maybe Tami, raised Catholic, got some kind of fulfillment out of it, Catholicism had always been something alien to him — or maybe more like worship.

It turned out, unexpectedly, to be romantic. The three women did not appear to notice his approach. But then as he got near the table Jen and Leisha accelerated their ministrations, and as he circled Tami’s shaking body and came around to her sweaty face, he caught a look in her half-opened, feverish eyes that could only be called pure love. He then knew what to do — he bent over and kissed her, a full-throated kiss, and as he did she lurched forward, moaned loudly into his mouth, and her whole body spasmed, and spasmed again.

More followed. It was a powerful orgasm even for Tami. Her whole body quaked and quaked, as Jen and Leisha hung on for dear life and he kept his lips on hers, grasping the damp hair behind her head, and she held her lips to his to the extent she could. The whole event, the whole nine hours, had been a preparation, waiting for him to join her as she scaled and reached what must have been the pinnacle of ecstasy.

Rod thought of that time as, now at the breakfast table, he saw the post-orgasmic catching of breath, the slight sheen of sweat, the hands that went under the table to caress Jen’s hair, which nowadays was set in short cornrows. Tami was descending to the plateau now, from whence she could rise and then rise again — “going up”, she called it. Leisha watched intently too.

Inconsequentially, the microwave beeped and the eggs were ready.

Now the ascent to the second orgasm.


Rod was about to get up when Tami reached up with a sharp motion and got the phone. Maybe it was her good-girl, straight-A sense of duty, her Catholic upbringing, but she would not let her orgasms interfere with anything. She pushed down the crest with a visible effort. “H – hello.”

“Oh hi Wanda,” she said with a smile and she relaxed and went back to riding Jen’s tongue. She looked and fondled the cornrows. “Wow. C – congratulationsssss!!” She seemed happily surprised and glad for her old friend. To Rod and Leisha she said, “W – Wanda’s b – been hired by th – the B – Boston D.A. off — off — office — Ohhhh!”

Her eyes opened to the ceiling and lost focus as they always did just as an orgasm began. She was listening to what Wanda was saying, or at least trying to. How did she do that? He had asked her once — “I just play back in my mind what I just heard.” It probably took practice, but of course, she had had plenty of that.

Spasms and little grunts followed. She was holding back her vocalizations so she could hear better. Then she looked down at Jen. “W – wanda says hi.” She hadn’t needed to mention Jen’s name.

“Ohh!” Her pelvis jerked. Jen had apparently delivered a little rough suction to Tami’s clit. This was Jen’s way of saying, “Hi, Wanda.”

Jen and Wanda continued to converse through Tami’s body for a little while, sentences, pauses, commas, an occasional exclamation point. Then: “T – tomorrow night then — ohhhh!. . . OK . . .” After replacing the receiver with great effort Tami exhaled and caressed Jen’s hair, lurched one final time, then came down from the plateau at last. “Mmmmm . . . ” After a few moments Jen came up to lay her head against Tami’s breasts, like a contented baby with a tummy full of mother’s milk.

Rod felt his dick, recently given up for dead, stirring. It was Tami’s musk, which filled the room and made it hot and humid. He might or might not be able to get fully erect again but it was a moot point; it was time to go to work. He put the laptop on “hibernate” and went to get his briefcase. When he returned a couple of minutes later he said, “Your guest is up. I found her in the hall.”

Tami, by then back in this world with her orange juice and eggs, said, “Tell her to come in. She must be hungry.”

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