Chapter 245: Eulalie Guidry, 14, done and done...

One of the secondary benefits of the enhanced sexuality in the Cajun Bayous was photography. Most of the Cajun mothers had never seen photos except in the porno magazines that Jonny LeBlanc gave to all the kids at the little one-room schoolhouse.

Now, over 80% on the homes had a classy mother/son picture taking pride of place on kitchen walls.

The elite 41 family-photos featured the mother getting fucked by her son. Most were captured at the moment of orgasm. When a mom had more than one boy, there was picture for each of them. For example, Sandy DuBois had three photos; her mother, Barbara, three also. Sinéad counted the DuBois grandsons as photo-eligible,

Kate Broussard had assigned Ray-Ray to the task. Sinéad’s Cunts Corner girls had shot videos and took multiple stills, so he had plenty of raw material to work with.

He chose the most flattering shots. Had them blown up, matted, and framed with a glass cover. It was the single nicest item in almost every bayou household.

And, those 41 homes were visited by countless friends and neighbors. Most of whom wanted their own pictures. Sinéad spread the word — bring your son to the Bayou Bar. Those proud mamas were soon being photographed either sucking their sons or jacking them off.

Daughters were not forgotten. They were included in the background — avid voyeurs to their mama’s activities. The only family members not included — husbands. Who were, after all, second class citizens in the Cajun Bayous.

To most of the women, the framed four-color shots were just short of miraculous. They looked good, they looked sexy, the quality of the photographs and the way they were presented was brilliant.

The fact that they were depicted having sex with their sons was of only secondary interest. They simply loved looking at themselves, and were proud of how good they looked, proud of their overt sexuality.

But the videos were even better. Sinéad ran them on a continuous loop on her large flatscreen.

Then Carole Landry came up with yet another idea. With Kate’s backing, she tasked Ray-Ray with buying 50 iPads and loading them with all of the photographs and tightly-edited videos from the Bayou Bar sexcapades.

Sinéad immediately handed out a tablet to each of the 41 pioneer mothers. And, she spread the word, that every sweet mama who started son-fucking would receive her very own tablet.

For those original 41, there was a learning curve regarding the operational and recharging steps, but those were soon overcome. And suddenly — in 41 little houses — it was like a flashback to America in the 1950s. When families gathered around their first television set. Everyone stared and devoured the iPad videos.

The framed photographs themselves had been magical — but these videos were worlds beyond that. Now, these elite moms could not only watch themselves whenever they wanted, but they could view each and every sex act performed by their friends and neighbors at the Bayou Bar and Bank.

Sinéad reported to Carole, “Seven more, my luv.”

“In the first week alone.”

“And I have another two dozen or so — some of them are almost certain to join the club, aren’t they just?”

Son-Fucking had been a rite of passage for the boys. Their first wet dream, their first masturbation, first blowjob, first pussy. But having their own mothers fuck them — that was the ultimate.

However, it was an even bigger decision for the mothers. They weren’t dewy maidens, blushing at the sight of a penis. But it was still a step — a big step. The barrier was not so much the reaction from their friends, nor from the community at large — there was virtually no condemnation for the Son-Fuckers. It was their own business, and these days more common than ever.