Chapter 15

After the first time that Cat Theriot wore a flap instead of a thong to school, a dozen other girls rushed to copy her. Of course all of them carefully trimmed the flaps to be as small as possible and still do their jobs.

Again, it was Cat who thought up, and initiated what became known as the Cafeteria Game. When she was seated at a table, lunch tray in front of her, she unpeeled the flap, neon green that first day, and smoothed the adhesive strip onto the table in front of her.

There was a sudden, shocked silence for a moment, then three boys practically tipped their chairs over to get down on all fours and look at the amazing sight.

Two boys creamed their jeans almost instantly. That Cat was out in the open, in school, stark naked except for two pasties had been an instant overload.

The whispered word spread. Surprisingly, the boys who flocked to her table, exhibited an almost courtly manner. Perhaps, subconsciously, they understood that any commotion would draw the attention of teachers who had drawn cafeteria duty for that 45-minute period. So they took turns, no one hogging the time.

Of course the cafeteria monitors were instantly aware of what Cat was doing. Since the little girl’s boyfriend was Wayne Comeaux, who was older than some of the teachers, they were a little in awe of Cat.

The three monitors whispered among themselves for a minute or so, then concluded that so long as Cat kept her business under the table, there was no need for them to intervene.

A lunchtime rhythm developed. Cat and the little girls who joined in the Cafeteria Game, came up with a silent signal. When they crossed their legs, cutting off the view, the boys under those tables backed away, and gave up their turn.

Depending on who was under the table — how nice they were, how cute they were, how polite they were — Cat and company would slump down in their chair, spread their thighs, and thrust their hips up.

Missy wasn’t concerned about obtaining maternal approval for their daughters’ participation in the Cafeteria Game. But just to put those sweet mamas on an official record, she had them fill out another Permission Slip:

“I, Monica Bourbon, hereby give my permission for my daughter, Kelly Bourbon, to flash her bare pussy while at John Lee Hooker Middle School.”

The Superintendent, Helene Washington, realized that the Cafeteria Game was yet another escalation. But she decided that the under-table showoffs were harmless enough.

Now, only a few people knew that Helene had been hired from Lafayette, Louisiana for two reasons. First, Marie Guidry had been appalled by how mediocre the Sausalito schools were. And, she determined that Helene had the experience, the talent, the willpower to begin the process of turning things around.

However, only Marie, her sister, Eulalie, Darlene Pellerin, and now Missy, knew the second, and equally compelling reason that Helene had been brought in.

Marie, during the interview process, had shown Helene a detailed spreadsheet that outlined the goals, strategies, and tactics that the new superintendent was expected to execute.

This included a steadily escalating compensation package when the goals were being met.

Judging Helene to be a sharp, practical, open-minded professional, Marie brought out a second spreadsheet.

“As you can see, your salary and bonuses will be exponentially higher when you begin executing my other agenda.”

Helene sat back and gazed at Marie speculatively, “That’s way too much money. That’s Ivy League money, not some small-town administrative package. So, what is it you really want from me?”

“Sex. I want you to gradually, and seeming reluctantly, loosen the reins.” She smiled at Helene, “It’ll take time, years even, but I want your schools to shake off the old rules and social mores. I want a dress code that is laughably unrestrained. I want teachers to openly discuss and encourage sexual activities. Eventually, I want full nudity to be allowed.”

Helene, who had grown up in Black, urban slums, wasn’t shocked. Nor offended. She glanced again at the ‘real’ compensation package, and asked the only key question, “How young?”

“High school during your first year. Here’s an easy one — substitute cheerleader thongs for panties. Spread the word that pussy wedges are allowed.”

Helene nodded, “Then the next year, no thongs at all.”

“And, during your second year, include the middle school.”

“Of course. Then, the two elementary schools?”

“That’s a more sensitive one. We’ll take our time, work slowly, but I want your program to eventually include even the youngest kids.”

The discussion lasted almost two hours and drilled down into the specifics:

> Naked physical-ed workouts, starting with the boys.

> Nude photographs of every student starting on the first day of class each year.

> Sex-ed clips of locals in action. Starting with the Miss-Kitty strippers.

> No-panties days.

Helene had been impressed. The list was as creative as it was detailed. The implementation was nuanced. Each escalation was timed so that there was an evaluation process. Time for Sausalito to become used to each change of policy before the next one was introduced.

So when Cat Theriot showed up in class with pasties that were completely transparent, Helene had a measured response. She told the School Board, “This change meets the letter, if not the spirit of our policy. It’s up to you, of course, but I’m inclined to let it go.”

Esther Boudreaux shrugged, “Why not? You could already see their nipples. Well, the outline, anyway.”

Three weeks later, when Cat and company stopped wearing event the transparent version, no one raised a fuss. Pasties had been a silly idea to begin with.

So now, the free-spirited girls wore only a brief flap on Casual Fridays. And even that came off in the cafeteria. There was something about being completely naked in school during those 45-minutes that freed the soul, that lightened the spirit. Technically, other students could see either her face and breasts, or her pussy and legs, but not both at once.

Helene was pleased, and knew that Eulalie would be too when the youngest little girls began taking turns kneeling under the cafeteria tables to gaze at bare pussy.

Many people in Sausalito, including the majority of the boys’ mothers, missed the significance of Missy Champlain’s subtle change to the Saturday morning show for naked boys.

On a Friday afternoon, each boy (who hadn’t been to Camp Sunnyside with his mom) brought home a Permission Slip for his mother’s signature:

“I Penny Fauchet, understand that in order for my son, Pierre Fauchet, to continue attending the Saturday morning shows at Miss Kitty’s, I will be in the audience for at least one performance a month.”

The edict caused a little chatter, but no one, not even the mothers, exhibited any concerns. In fact, most of them considered it a lark, a fun break. They had, after all, been sent countless clips of their sons beating off at Miss Kitty’s.

These moms talked it over with friends, and the consensus was, “No biggie.”

What they had missed was that there was a considerable psychic difference between a video clip and watching him live and up close.

Now, to some of those mothers, it hadn’t made much of a difference. But other mamas ... well, there had been a psychological shift, an alteration in the mother/son relationship.

Knowing intellectually that he would be naked and masturbating was one thing. Seeing him staring directly at her as he pounded his meat and spurted was something quite different.

What so many of the mothers hadn’t thought of was that her son would tear his eyes away from the naked women on stage to look at her. That this — watching his mother watch him cum — was more sexually arousing than naked women making love on stage — had caught them totally off guard.

In addition, she, fully clothed, caught the attention of her son’s pals, who also watched her watching him. In fact, some of those boys found it sexier to beat off in front of woman who had known them all of their lives.

Now, that wasn’t so bothersome. In fact quite a few women actually enjoyed the novelty of it. But, their own sons ... now that brought in a layer of vague discomfort that varied from mother to mother.

That Saturday afternoon’s conversation between Patsy Melancon and her son, Josh, had been, it not typical, at least not that unusual.

“God, Mama, having you there was so hot!”

Patsy tried for casual. She shrugged and said, “Missy.”

“Thank God for Miss Missy!”

“Well.”

He was still excited, no question about that.

“Will you be there next week?”

“No! I mean she said once a month, right?”

“I wish it was every week, Mama.”

“Well.”

“That was the first time I came three times. Did you see me?”

“Acourse I saw ... it. I mean, I was right there.”

“I think I shot more cum than ever. Did you count it?”

“NO! I mean, no, why would I?” Oops, why did I ask that?

“So you’d be proud of me, God.”

“Oh.”

“Did you notice I’m longer than Paulie and George and Billy?”

“I did not!”

“Well, Billy’s is thicker, but I’m an inch and a half longer.”

Patsy’s cheeks were now pink. She had, in fact, mentally compared the three boys with Josh.

“They were pumped. They never got to jerk off in front of a girl they knew.”

“Well.”

“I can’t wait until next Saturday.” A grin split his face as the thought occurred to him, “Mama, I’m not gonna cum for two days — I’ll save it all for you.”

As inappropriate and as awkward as that declaration had been, Patsy found it sort of boyishly sweet. A innocent feeling declaration of ... what? Not love, not exactly. Fondness? Yeah, maybe. Forbidden lust? Yes, unfortunately. But still kinda touching.

On Monday, gobbling down his after-school snack, Josh’s enthusiasm was instantly rekindled when his and his mom’s phones pinged at the same time. It was a video clip from the previous Saturday.

This time Patsy blushed even deeper as she couldn’t tear her eyes away from herself. There she was, looking directly at Josh as he exploded, sending sperm flying into the little cum towel.

Josh was sputtering with excitement, “Look at Paulie and George and Billy. See how they’re staring at you?”

She glanced at the perimeter. Yes, they were, indeed, staring directly at her as they stroked themselves.

“Well.”

Josh tapped his cell, “Now it it’ll be better than ever for them! For me too.”

“Huh?”

“Yesterday, at Billy’s you were all we talked about.” In their little circle jerk.

Involuntarily, Patsy glanced at Billy. Yes, damn it, he was thick. Thicker even than her husband.

“Mama?”

“Huh?”

“Next week, will you hold my cum towel?”

“What!”

“I won’t shoot any on you, promise. But, see, I like to do it when I kin hold it, squeezed it real tight, with my left hand.”

Back in middle school she had watched enough little boys to picture exactly what Josh was talking about.

“See, I cum a lot harder that way. It feels even better.”

“Well.” Wait, why didn’t I say no? Hell no.

The next afternoon, a Tuesday, it was Patsy’s turn to feed the four middle school boys.

And, they were unabashedly enthusiastic as they lauded her Miss-Kitty presence.

“It was so hot having you there, Mrs. Melancon.”

“Did you see how fast I came?”

Billy, so admiring, and not the least embarrassed, said, “I dreamed about you last night, Mrs. Melancon. When I woke up this morning, I was covered in cum.”

“Well.”

George, genuinely curious, asked, “Do you think you came twice?”

Billy thought about that one for a few moments.

Involuntarily, Patsy flashed on him at Miss Kitty’s. Of the four boys, he had cum without even touching himself. He had just been staring at her when he exploded. Back home, reflecting on her morning, Patsy had found it strangely flattering that she had had that much of an effect on him.

Billy said, “Maybe I did cum twice. I never saw that much cum before.”

Josh stood up, “Everyone got your cell?”

They did.

Patsy watched them troop off to his room. As she cleaned up her kitchen, she felt a vague sense of something. Amusement? Sure. But also pride?

She blushed at her inappropriate admission. Yet, it did give her some small amount of pleasure knowing that the four of them would be staring at her clip as they masturbated.

Mothers around town who attended a live show at Miss Kitty’s had varied reactions. Many were simply amused. Most admitted that, despite the fact that her son was there, it was pretty fascinating to see that many naked boys all at once.

And, among some of those boys a group ethos emerged. When his own mother was present, he and two or three or four of his pals would gather in front of his mom and luxuriate in her presence.

By their second or third Saturday, most mothers no longer felt any discomfort. Some, frankly enjoyed the adulation.

For Patsy, by her third time, she gave in and held Josh’s precious cum towel while he used both hands to jerk off.

It was called a cum towel, but really, it was the size of a washcloth. And, by the second load, it was soaked.

Then, the next month, Patsy gave in, and ended up holding Billy’s towel. And watched, fascinated, as he put his hands on his butt, thrust his hips forward, and whispered, “Thank you, Mrs. Melancon,” as he spurted and spurted and spurted. He was able to cum just by looking at her.

She estimated that his erection was only about four-inches long, but, man, was it thick!

As mom-presence became baked into the fabric of Sausalito life, a few mothers got more and more into it. They began dressing more provocatively. For many boys, they had becometheshow. Sure, they’d glance up at the stage from time to time, but most of their attention was on either their own mother or the mother of a close friend.

The most daring mothers (usually the most attractive ones, too) began wearing sexier and more revealing outfits. Painted-on short-shorts. Thin crop tops with engorged nipples.

Mini skirts so short that they begged the question — panties or thongs? Or, maybe, just maybe, nothing.

Since many moms drove their sons to Miss Kitty’s and back home, an easy camaraderie began to develop. Joshing back and forth, “You didn’t have much cum left that third time.”