Fall 1985 continued…
On my next visit to her house after a date – we went to a movie - she broke out the John Huber letter and let me read it. He had written sixteen handwritten pages back to her from his jail cell. Tears silently welled in her eyes as I read.
It was actually NOT very interesting. Most of the first half was a combination of bullshit, nostalgia, and questions about how Tami’s life was going. When Huber finally addressed the big issue, he played innocent and rambled on about how he completely blacked out and didn’t remember anything about the killings. I saw it as Huber assuming the letter might get out or find itself in front of the jury, so he was just peddling his defense.
“Thank you for trusting me with this,” I said to Tami. “How do you feel about all of it now?”
“I hope that sick bastard rots in Hell,” Tami replied flatly.
“Me, too, Baby,” I softly said while leaning in to kiss her. “Me too.”
A few minutes later we were downstairs making out in the den.
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(SEXY TIME APPROACHES…THERE WILL BE MORE! SUBCRIBE TODAY!)
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Tami's blossoming feelings for me tore down her naïve attitudes toward sexual activity in a hurry, but she always insisted on maintaining her virginity “until marriage.” We both got a little bolder each time she sneaked me down into the basement of her house. After about the first six weeks of our relationship, Tami and I would end up totally naked in each other's arms during our make-out sessions. Tami started getting very familiar with the male anatomy, as she got bolder and gently stroked me to an unbelievable level of sexual frustration. I was the personification of self-restraint, never pushing her for more or acting like I had any expectation beyond the moment. After about the fourth experiment in this area, she finally finished the job, to my great relief, and my eruption left a huge mess on my chest and stomach. Tami smiled warmly as I came, happy with her accomplishment. As soon as I finished throbbing, she said, “I thought that would happen one of these times!”
To which I replied, “God that was intense!...That was a lot, like a pint…you got any Kleenex?” We both laughed quietly as we held each other close.
As she helped wipe me up with the Kleenex – there was a lot - she noticed the smell. This was all very new to her. She was innately curious, so she sniffed hard. “HHmmm. Smells kinda pungent and kinda bleachy. Very distinct. Not like anything else. See for yourself,” Tami said as she put the wad under my nose. I smelled it.
“Yeah, you nailed it. Kinda pungent, kinda bleachy. Very distinct. Nothing else like it,” I repeated.
“Goober-gee-gee,” she said in a silly little girl voice before going to the bathroom to dispose of it.
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I wasn't just on the receiving end of pleasure during our times together, however. Quite to the contrary, my pleasure was secondary to hers, always. I truly loved her and I wanted to show that, to give her the most pleasure possible from our time together. In my mind, and I believe in hers, too, we were building a bond that could never be broken. None-the-less, it took a while for Tami to get comfortable with herself. Tami was a very self-conscious person and she got especially so when it came to the female anatomy. But after countless reassurances from me, she learned to relax and accept the gift of pleasure I was giving her. About a week after the need for Kleenex started, I finally made the diving team - the muff diving team (that’s how I thought of it at the time), and it was incredible for both of us. I received more satisfaction from slowly teasing her, building her up, and making her orgasm than I did from my own. Incredibly, she felt the same way. We both got off on getting each other off, and as a result our sex life overflowed with excitement, anticipation, and intensity, even though actual intercourse was off limits. We were truly making love anyway.
Tami was right about the age difference being an issue, at least at first. For the first few weeks, whenever I was in her car driving around with Tami, she would make me duck down so her classmates wouldn’t see me. Although I didn’t like it, I indulged her because I would do anything she wanted at that point in time. It was ridiculous of her to think it mattered, as everyone figured out we were together just by seeing us around each other all the time and how we were with each other. She gave up on her faux “embarrassment” of dating a younger guy at about the same period of time that we confessed our love for each other. At that point, I earned full open-to-the-world “boyfriend” status. Public displays of affection followed spontaneously from there. I gladly made the naysayers eat shit on the sidelines.
Because I was spending almost all of my free time with Tami, the backlash from my party friends, particularly Jim, grew and got more mean-spirited. Previously Jim and I had been spending most of our free time together partying or otherwise screwing around town. Now that Tami was in my life, Jim was shoved aside. As a result, he started acting bitter and prickish toward me at first, leading to hostility in short order. Jim and several other old party buddies (not including Jack) decided to take on the project of fucking with me at every opportunity, and in such ways as to possibly damage my relationship with Tami. My big fear was that they would rat me out as a party animal to her and try to make me look “unworthy” of her. I guess that never occurred to them. Instead, they took to just dissing me in school at every opportunity and messing with my car when I was at her house.
The first time, they pushed my car onto the snowbank in front of Tami’s house. It happened on the night Tami first brought me to orgasm. Tami’s parents were at a Christmas party and weren’t expected home until late. While Tami and I were making out downstairs after cleaning up the mess we’d made, we heard some commotion outside and what sounded like a couple guys yelling back and forth and laughing. Tami and I got dressed quickly and we put ourselves together to go check it out. What we found was my Toyota TC3 (actually, my parents’ TC3) had been pushed to being high centered on the snowbank directly outside Tami’s house. The old TC3’s were small cars with a light backend, so it was easy for the four or five guys (led by Jim) to pick up the rear of the car, pull it perpendicular to the sidewalk, and then push it as far as the group could onto the 2 ½ feet of snow (in North Dakota back then, it was common to not even lock your car doors, so they had put it in neutral and just pushed it). The boys knew that if Tami’s mom, the old bitch substitute, found my car on her lawn, snow or no snow, there would be judgment of me and likely undesirable consequences for Tami and me both. The fellas would probably have been right, too, except Tami and I didn’t let it happen. We scrambled and shoveled enough snow from under the car to get a little traction, and then I pushed hard, while Tami got behind the wheel. We got it cleared, and got me out of there, with about ten minutes to spare before her parents got home (luckily, they had had a later night).
Instead of scaring Tami off or making her leery of me in any way, the actions of my old friends drove her further into my arms. Our relationship was already unconventional and viewed with derision by many of our peers, now the old party crew was adding an element of danger and a different type of excitement. Like, “what do you think they’ll try next?” kind of excitement. Similar to our previous cat and mouse car games, Tami wanted to catch them in the act. Instead of doubting me at all, she sided with me and became naturally defensive of me. The “forbidden-ness” of our relationship made it all the more exciting and interesting for Tami. Our relationship continued to thrive and our clandestine rendezvous’ grew in intensity.
When Christmas break (1985) came around, we were apart for the first time since becoming a couple. It was agonizing for both of us but worse for her. I went to visit my father where he was stationed with Frontier Airlines at the time, Salt Lake City. My biggest problem was missing Tami and being bored. Tami, on the other hand, had to endure her nightmare of a mother while in the run up to, and then all throughout, her sister’s wedding. She was either crying or near tears every night when we talked on the phone because of it.
“Honey, when we get married, we’re gonna have to elope,” she said seriously and with exasperation when we were together again. “I mean it. My mom was just the absolute worst, the whole time! My poor sister couldn’t do anything right. Not the colors, the cake, the flowers…not even her own friggin’ wedding dress!” Tami exclaimed with her characteristic animated spirit. “She bitched about EVERVYTHING. But everything was great, or would have been if she would’ve just let it be. My sister was in tears the while time, she couldn’t even have fun on her own wedding day…”
Message received loud and clear about mom. I would proceed with caution.
The next time Jim and the boys messed with my car was the night I had made the “diving team.” I thought I would outsmart the fellas if they came around looking for my car again by parking it a few blocks away from Tami’s house. That didn’t work out. They went hunting for it and found it that night. After hours and hours of intimacy with Tami, and after finally going down on her for the first time, I left her house at the crack of dawn to find my car …MISSING! It had been properly parallel parked along a quiet residential street, and now, it was gone.
I figured out what happened right away – the assholes picked up the backend of the car and pulled it into the middle of the street, then sometime after that the cops came by and towed it. I was pissed off and had no choice but to walk across town back home. The anger faded as I walked home with my face still feeling like a glazed donut, the sweet scent of Tami’s sex permeating my nostrils. I walked on clouds the whole way home.
As expected, my folks weren’t too happy about it (of course I obscured the details and timing to them). I called Jim and put the squeeze on him, and the others involved, to cough up the money for the towing fee to get the car released. They did, and quickly too, because I let it be known that the next step would be his parents, then the cops, if they didn’t. After that, the harassment stopped and I went about my business, mostly ignoring my old crew of party buddies and in turn, I was mostly ignored by them.
Eventually Jim and I made amends, about two months later, after I heard that he had gotten arrested for (his first) DUI. I called him and expressed my sympathy for his plight. We both knew that had I not been with Tami, I would most likely have been with him, gotten arrested for minor in possession at the least, and thereby fucked up all my future goals in the process. With the ice broken between us, we kept talking to each other and got over the rift.
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The physical relationship between Tami and me was more than the horny exploits of teenagers – it was a manifestation of the mental and emotional relationship the two of us shared. Tami and I were best friends in every sense of the phrase. We were open books with each other, completely intimate and sharing of everything with each other (except my criminal record, thus far). More than that, we were completely supportive of each other. While my ambition intrigued Tami, she was also my biggest fan, as I was hers. When I won my state championship for “After-dinner Speaking” with the Muammar Ghaddafi speech, Tami was there for me, having driven half-way across the State just to watch me. And I was there for her, watching her excel in every basketball game she played.
While showing my support for Tami, I got a taste of Tami’s deep sadness that came from her own family strife. Both of Tami’s older brothers had been basketball stars in high school, and their parents never missed a game. Idolizing them as she did, Tami wanted to be a great basketball player, too. And that’s what she worked herself into being, a great basketball player, clearly number one in our high school and considered by many to be the best female guard in the State. The problem was that her parents didn’t seem to care in the least. They barely acknowledged that she played, much less that she was good at it. Being the chauvinists they were, girls’ sports were not taken seriously, just tolerated. So, when Tami led her team to the State basketball championship game, they didn’t even bother to show up.
Like Tami had for me, I traveled half-way across the State to watch her clean up at the championship tournament. Her dear old grandmother of eighty-five let us stay with her at her apartment, and she was kind enough to come to the championship game. Tami did great up to that point in the tournament, leading her team to the finals. Sadly, grandma was the only member of Tami’s entire family to bother to come that night (or any night). No brothers or sisters, even though it was an easy enough drive for most of them. But even worse, her parents had completely disregarded her accomplishment. I could see it broke her heart on the court. She played the worst game I’d ever seen her play. Her normal speediness was sluggish, her shots got rejected or frequently missed, and she couldn’t buy a free throw. Instead of being her crowning athletic achievement, it was her lowest scoring and most humiliating game in her high school career.
She never played another organized team game again.
After the loss, it was a long evening of tears and angry outbursts of frustration and disappointment with herself and her parents. She didn’t blame them for her game – she was too personally competitive to pass the blame onto anyone else (even with some justification). She did blame them for hurting her. With this non-action, they had convinced her that they simply didn’t care much for her, like she was reluctantly accepted rather than cherished and loved by them. It made her feel like an outsider in her own family, a reject. I related easily.
As would become a common pattern in our relationship, her intense emotions (and mine, too) eventually redirected toward me, in a positive way. It didn’t take much of a spark to ignite the blast furnace of heat between us, and the thrill of “getting away with it” always took her flames up a notch. We ended the evening sixty-nining in grandma’s living room while grandma was fast asleep in her bedroom with her TV blaring.
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My physical romance with Tami was accidentally helped by her parents as they were frequently traveling on ski trips with friends or off to visit one of their older children and their grandchildren, giving us even more time and space on those weekends. On the first trip away, I put on the full romantic show for Tami. First, I cooked her a candlelight dinner, followed by a long, sensual full body massage. I literally massaged every inch of her, slowly, working from the fingers and toes her down outer limbs and inward toward her core. Slow, tender, loving. Teasing. Erotic…When I finally got to removing her soaking wet panties, as I slowly pulled them down, thick tendrils of her wetness tried in vain to cling to her panties to her body. Underwear now off, I kept building her excitement until focusing on making her orgasm, which she finally did for the first time. At last she was relaxed enough to get over her self-consciousness enough to let it happen. I was so excited to make her climax that I actually came, too, without her (or me) even touching me. The next morning, after having fooled around most of the night in her parents’ bed, I gave Tami a luxurious bath for the first time of many. That, too, would become an ongoing thing in our relationship (later on it would be shower sex - every time we showered!).
One weekend when her parents were visiting one of her brothers in Fargo, Tami and I were making out in the den. We were buck-naked and just getting started with our adventures when we heard the unmistakable sound of the garage door opening. Her parents were home early! They would be entering the door at the top of the steps (the bottom was only ten feet away from us), so there was NO TIME! Tami quickly grabbed my clothes and my shoes, shoving them in my hands, and then shoved me in the den’s sliding door closet. “Be quiet, I’ll come back for you as soon as I can,” she said in a rush. Then she closed the door and within a second, I heard the door to the garage opening.
Tami called up to her parents as they walked in from the garage. “Oh, hi mom! I’ll be up in a minute. I was just about to hop in the shower,” she lied brilliantly.
“Okay,” was all I heard as a response.
As I stood naked in the darkness holding my clothes, I could hear Tami rustling about grabbing her things and then starting the shower. My heart was racing. I could hear my pulse in my ears as I started having nightmare visions of how the next few minutes would go. First, I envisioned the closet door whipped open by her mother, who then shrieks bloody murder, the cops are called, my relationship with Tami is ruined, and so on. Then I thought of the door ripped open by her father, followed by his massive fist slamming into my face. But the scariest was thinking her dad would rip open the door, level a magnum revolver in my face, and blow my fucking head off!
After the longest half hour of my life, Tami finally slowly slid the closet door open. “You OK, honey?” she whispered.
“Barely…can I come out now?”
Her parents were tired from the trip and had gone straight to bed. We went back to making out for a few more hours before I was sneaked out for the night.
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As Tami and I got more sexual intimacy experience with one another, we got more experimental. Actual penetration still wasn't allowed – Tami still wanted to be a virgin until she got married (or at least engaged) – but we discovered a variety of ways to enjoy ourselves. Dry-humping got old real fast, so Tami figured out what I’ll call wet-humping. One night she told me to, “Just stop moving and let me do something here.” Then with her naked and on top, Tami slid her drenching wet pussy up the length of my cock and back down again, rubbing her clit against the head of my penis while keeping the entrance to her vagina low enough to avoid penetration. It was amazing. So amazing that I instantly became content to wait until marriage for full penetration. We both came like crazy every time she did this. We didn’t even talk about it – it just became another regular form of love making between us. In doing so, we avoided the need for contraception while officially maintaining her chastity, at least in her mind. It was “good Catholic girl” hypocrisy at its best!
It was on one of these occasions, Tami's graduation night about seven months after we started going out, that the last barrier was broken. Tami was lying on top of me, aggressively sliding her vital areas over mine, when suddenly it accidentally happened. Tami had moved her hips a little bit too far up. As she slid back, I partially entered her. We froze.
“What should I do?” Tami whispered with the utmost uncertainty.
“I don't know… It feels so good…but I don't want you to do anything you’re not ready for,” I lied. I was already on the brink, ready to explode. The feeling, even just the thought, of actually being inside of her was too much for me. I wanted this barrier to finally be crossed – I knew once it was that we could never go back. Our bond would be unbreakable.
“No, we better not. I'd rather wait ‘til we’re engaged,” Tami whispered before sliding forward. She adjusted her position to continue our modified lovemaking, but after only five thrusts of her hips, it happened again. We froze again.
“What you want to do, Tami?” I asked, hopeful of her reply.
“I'm not sure. I love you… And it feels soooo good. What do you think?”
The idea of us getting married had been very much on the table for months by then. We both knew we were too young to be officially engaged, but I made no secret of the fact that I wanted to spend my whole life with her. We even had a fantasy wedding date picked for after I graduated from the Air Force Academy. The only thing holding us back from actual intercourse was her stand as a “Good Catholic girl” to maintain her virginity until her wedding night.
“Tami, I love you, I want you now, and I’ll always want you.” I was feeling every heartbeat pulsing my cock inside of her hot wetness. I wasn’t going to last long regardless. “You know I want to marry you. There's nothing more that I want then to be with you, and to make love with you. But it's your call. I'll accept whatever you decide. I just want you to be sure… I don't want you to have any regrets,” I whispered. I was totally sincere, and it was still the exact right thing to say at that moment.
Tami had not moved off of my cock. The electricity between our bodies was incredible, numbing her mind as well as my own. All of the feelings were so powerful…her decision was already made. Tami gently whispered, “I love you,” then she kissed me deeply and pushed her hips down, bringing my full length into her. It didn't take long. I was so excited that I came in less than a minute. I had discipline enough to pull out, and she finished me in the wet-humping fashion.
The funniest thing about the experience was that it happened with one of Tami's best friends sleeping only 5 feet away. The evening came together as a result of another of Tami's friends inviting the girls over for girls-only graduation party. That lasted all of two hours before the boyfriends crashed the party, me included. Tami and her temporary roommate had rented a hotel room for the night, and both double beds were occupied with the respective boyfriends. After her friend and that boyfriend fell asleep, Tami and I got busy. We were used to being quiet while getting frisky so the bed sheet was all the shield we needed for cover. Adventure had become a part of our sex life together.
Immediately after the act, Tami rapidly and quietly went through the cycle of reactions that may be common among many freshly deflowered Catholic women. First, she felt sick, nauseous and unable to breathe. She was actually sticking her face at the bottom of the doorframe to “get air” at her worst panicky moments. Then guilt hit her, and she felt dirty. Then she hated me and didn't want anything to do with me. Finally, she came to terms with what happened and how she felt. She told me that she loved me, she wanted to be with me, but that we couldn't do that again until we're at least engaged, it just wasn't right.
Yeah right.
Despite all the activity and drama, her friend and the other boyfriend never woke up.
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Tami had to leave for the family farm two days after graduation. She was expected to help work the farm during summer breaks, at least when she was needed. Usually, Tami’s mother would go to the farm around the end of April and begin spring cleaning. By the time Tami was out of school in May, the farm work was mostly yard work, garden planting and weeding, and various field work (plowing, rock-picking, helping with planting, etc.). Her father paid her for her time instead of Tami getting a regular high school type of job and so he didn’t have to hire someone else.
In those days before the Internet when long distance telephone charges quickly got expensive, Tami and I engaged in the historic practice of writing letters to each other. Every day. Usually the letters were only two to four handwritten pages as we were both pressed for time. Sometimes they droned on longer. Every one of the letters, whether from her or from me, dripped with sappy affection and longing to be together again. It became our routine when we were apart from each other, with maybe a brief phone call every now and then.
About three weeks after her graduation, I was allowed to go visit her at their farm. Tami had a surprise for me. After showing me around the main farmyard and outbuildings, Tami said she wanted to take me on a drive around the countryside on their four-wheeled ATV. She drove me around for a mile or two before stopping at an empty old farm shack (or storage building). There she had already laid out a blanket, out of sight and far enough away from any road or other sources of prying eyes. A small cooler holding four wine coolers was placed on one end of the blanket and a picnic basket on the other. Tami then grabbed my hands and pulled me down onto the blanket with her.
“Do you really want to marry me…I mean, eventually?” she asked with eyes beaming.
“Absolutely, with all my heart and soul,” I said.
With that, she started kissing me passionately. Then she pulled back a bit and said, “I decided it was okay for us to make love, but only because we are going to be engaged."
"Really? You're okay with it now?” It was difficult to temper my excitement.
“Not all the time…I don’t want it to just become routine or anything. I want it to always be special, as a way we can express our feelings for one another, a way to cherish our extraordinary relationship. Do you know what I mean?”
“Everything is special with you, baby, but yes, I hear you. I always want it to feel right for both of us,” I claimed.
“I couldn’t wait to see you so I set this up for us,” Tami exclaimed, gesturing to the blanket and goodies. “I wanted it to be special the first time we were together again.”
“God, I love you,” I said before we stripped each other naked and made love for the second time. Later that night, she would sneak out to the couch where I was to sleep, and it was very special again. Then special again after that.
A new world had been opened to us and we had a lot to explore. We did, and often, too. Our overall relationship continued to soar to new heights as well. A full sexual relationship completed our bonds to each other, and we became as close to each other as two people have ever been. We totally understood each other and the quality of communication that existed between us would have made most married people take notes. We accepted each other for who and what we were – faults and flaws were irrelevant. Tami and I seemed destined to be together and we knew it with all our heart and souls.
Now I felt like I had it all and knew with certainty where I was going. Greatness awaited.
I was all of sixteen years old.