Tami gets playfully “pegged”

Another sequence I’m fond of. This Parts 26 - 27 of “Tami Beethoven”.

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...”

        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.”