Chapter 33: Three Different Women...

Three different women had told Kate what Janie and Susie had done with Fifi Dubois. Essentially, they had turned her sex life over to Paulie. Kate was bemused by the reactions of those three gossipers. There wasn’t a single question of the propriety of the arrangement, of Fifi’s own agency, of the Castilian sisters’ right to set the agenda.

No, they were curious, fascinated even, by Paulie’s newfound power. They asked Kate without directly asking her, what might become of their own sex lives.

Kate smiled benignly, “That’s up to Janie and Susie, you already know that.”

“Yes ma’am.” “Yes ma’am.” “Yes ma’am.”

Kate was pleased with the sisters’ creativity, with their initiative, with their confidence. But more than that, she was delighted that they hadn’t asked her for permission, hadn’t run the idea by her first.

Kate told Eulalie, “Those girls must have sensed, on some level, somehow, that the Dirty Dozen are now the town sluts.”

“Good for them. I like a girl with attitude. Plus, the sisters will be worth more when you start whoring them out at the club.”

As for Fifi herself ... well, her feelings continued to be a bit jumbled up. She was still Paulie’s mother and still had considerable influence over him outside of the bedroom. And even though he was fucking her regularly, he was still in awe of her.

Right now, he was lying beside her, catching his breath, satiated, thankful. Fifi had had one mild climax, and that was because she used her own fingers as he was humping her. But, count your blessings, his recovery time was fairly quick and he usually lasted considerably longer the second time around.

So, lying there, listening to his breathing, she had time to reflect on her life, on where things were going.

She knew that if she had a particular itch, she could ask Paulie to send for Zach Cousteau, or Mickey Couture, or Barry Rousseau, or whoever she fancied at the moment. Paulie wouldn’t hesitate to accommodate her sexual impulses.

For now, anyway. But ... this new arrangement? Where his pals could ask him for permission to fuck her? Any of them? All of them? Would the mother/son relationship continue to shift? Would Paulie continue to grow, to assume more control?

Fifi wasn’t experiencing a searing, soul-searching inner dialogue. She was faintly surprised to discover that she was more curious than concerned. In some almost subliminal way, she was looking forward to whatever changes lay in store for her.

After Paulie had seen the boys gang-bang her at Contrary Mary’s, and he had been the first, had helped himself three times ... after all of that, he still looked adoringly at her. Still told her he loved her.

She knew that Kate looked at her, looked at all of the Dirty Dozen girls as pussy, and, quite frankly, as whores. Fifi wasn’t proud of that perception, as accurate as it was. But she certainly wasn’t ashamed either.

She felt more alive than she had even before she got married. Was now having more fun, enjoying the sex more than ever.

Fifi decided not to worry about Janie and Susie, about Paulie taking over her sex life. She instinctively knew to unclench, to take a deep breath, to prepare to enjoy whatever lay ahead.

She lay there quietly, gently stroking herself, mentally running through the roster of horny, eager boys who had only to ask Paulie ... Hmm. As she softly stroked her clit, she decided she would — subtly, subtly — let Paulie know not only who she was in the mood for, but how many.

She smiled to herself — there was no sense in limiting herself. She’d already demonstrated that she could not only accommodate more than one after another, but that she could outlast them.

True, the gang-bang had been too many. Toward the end, her pleasures were mild; she was more of a receptacle than a sex partner. But somewhere between ... hmm, say two boys and, probably four ... yep, that sounded just about heavenly.

Jill, with her new love life, had fallen into an exciting, yet comfortable rhythm. When Danny Boy wanted some pussy, he simply texted her from John Lee Hooker. A thumbs-up emoji made her giggle. Or an erect cock, spurting cum.

The sex never became routine, although a pattern had emerged to her afternoons. When he notified her, she soon realized that he liked her to be there waiting for him.

Ginny accompanied her when she could get away. And Denise told Jill, “He likes you to be ready to be fucked. He likes seeing you naked the minute he walks in the door.”

“Oh, okay. Sure.”

So Denise, or Ginny when she was there, would lubricate her, play with her nipples, generally heat her up. After a couple of weeks, Denise and Ginny began making her cum with their fingers. it became a pleasurable part of the daily ritual, a prelude to Danny Boy.

Sometimes that early activity was as satisfying, if not more, than being with Danny Boy.

But the aftermath — the three girls sitting in Denise’s kitchen, gossiping, laughing, getting to know each other — was another highlight.

They shared so much. A love of sex. Admiration for Danny Boy. They had all three made a sex tape for Ray-Ray, and were, to one degree or another, subservient to him,

Each of the three had children, family ups and downs, day-to-day concerns. Ginny was 40, the mother of Ronnie, 16, and Tommy, 14. Jill was 38, Kimmy’s mom. Denise, the youngest, a widow at 27, had emerged as the alpha.

And not just because she was Danny Boy’s mother. She wasn’t bossy, certainly not imperious; she just had a certain presence, a quiet confidence about her.

Danny boy rarely joined them for their kitchen visits. He had enjoyed his pussy-girl, thanked Jill profusely, and left to do boy things somewhere out there in the world.

So the three of them, Jill in the nude, sipped wine, compared love lives, and became friends. Danny Boy had called them the Three Amigas, and the name took.

Jill had never been one for deep self-evaluation. But she did consider her present condition, did consider how she felt about being pussy-on-call. On-call to a teenager almost half her age.

She decided to relax to enjoy her journey. She loved the sex itself, and was growing quite fond of Danny Boy. And she was coming to like the Three-Amiga camaraderie a lot, a whole lot. But even without Denise and Ginny, she knew she would still be delighted to answer Danny Boy’s booty calls. To drive to his house after school for the sole reason of getting fucked.

Slim Hebert had given Sinéad Donahue a cell phone, “Call me with anything juicy.”

“Of course.”

Years before, Marie Guidry had browbeat a phone carrier into installing a small cell tower on top of the Bayou Bar & Bank. Coverage was quite limited, but included her house and Rémy’s, plus a few other ‘rich people’ who lived in the bayous by choice.

Slim, working for Sabine Babineaux, had become the biggest financial supporter of the bar. Sinéad had prospered from the parties, distribution of thongs, free beers at Cunts Corner. And, she knew what Slim and CC were looking for — young pussy, incest in its myriad forms, public sex, local gossip ... anything and everything that contributed to loosening things up even more in the already laissez-faire bayous.

Slim had already heard about the infamous ‘Alain conversation’, but she still appreciated the call. She and CC went to get a firsthand report from Sinéad.

Slim and CC stripped down as soon as they were in the Jon boat at the City Dock. Nudity down in the Cajun Bayous was now the norm, not the exception.

The two of them — slender and lithe and tan and graceful — drew the usual stares when they climbed up the steps to the bar. No one argued with the fact that Slim was considered the sexiest girl the bayous had produced.

And CC? He looked like her sexy brother with a splendid package that swayed as he walked.

It was a little after 6 in the morning and already 101 degrees when Sinéad slid two icy Dixies across the bar. She leaned forward, “When I heard what the lasses were talking about, I stayed back there in Cunts Corner with ‘em.” She nodded, “I knew herself would be interested in every word.” Sabine.

Slim smiled, “Walk us through it.”

“It’s engraved in my brain, it is.” She paused to gather her thoughts, “Mr. Alain Allard tells Bernadette — they’re in that outdoor shower, wouldn’t you know — that it’s time.”

“Okay.”

“Bernadette kens to it straightaway, knows exactly what it’s time for. She asks him a couple of times if he’s sure, then marches over to her bed like a good wee lass.’

“No argument?”

“None, none at all. By this time, he’s already done everything but fuck her. Just the two of them living there since he sent his older brothers away. So she knows what she’s in store for. Or thinks she does. Now, mind, I’m telling it as Bernadette told it to Caroline. You know those two — no secrets between them.”

Slim, who had been born and raised in the Cajun Bayous, knew the players. “Right, they’ve shared everything since they was toddlers.”

“So Bernadette is in heat and getting hotter. Alain ... well, she taught him what to do to her and the lad was a swift learner. So the lass is getting more and more needy to the point of begging him for it.”

“Begging him to fuck her.”

“Tis so, but the boy knows what he wants and what he wants is more than just sex.”

“Okay. Good.”

“Bernadette tells Caroline that she’s got her knees pulled back to her shoulders, her wee pussy is practically begging for it. It’s tears she has running down her cheeks and she’s sobbing, now isn’t she? And wriggling around, desperate she is.”

CC’s cock was pointing up and throbbing. Slim winked at Sinéad.

Slim said, “Poor Bernadette, begging for it while he plays with her mind.”

“Aye. Her mind and her clit. Then finally it dawns on her, what he wants, what Alain really wants.”

“Surrender.”

“Aye, but not a cease-fire, no the Troubles are just beginning for Bernadette. What comes to her in a flash is that what Alain wants is the one thing, the one taboo, that she’s been asking him not to do.”

“Cum in her pussy.”

“Cum in her pussy. Once she tumbles to that, she can’t get the words out fast enough.”

“Remarkable.”

“Tis. But what stuck with me, Slim Hebert, is that he won’t cum in her pussy anymore. She stopped in for a breakfast beer a few days ago and told me that he usually fucks her a few times a day, but always pulls out and cums in her mouth.”

Slim nodded, “He got what he wanted that first time.’

“That he did, that he did.”

“CC and I are going to stop by there later. Sabine wants to introduce them to Miss Kate.”

Sinéad looked at her shrewdly, “Onstage fucking?”

“Sabine didn’t say, but that’s what we figured, me an’ CC.”

“Well, it’s the lad who’ll make the decision. The missus just goes along.”

The Babineaux twins, Debbie and Dora showed up in hopes that someone in the morning crowd would want a one-dollar blowjob. Slim gallantly kissed their hands and smiled at them. They blushed, flustered around the handsome boy.

Slim smiled too, ‘Does Mr. Romero still make you hand over ten dollars before you can go home?’’

Doris whispered in Sinéad’s ear. She answered for them, “No, not in this heat. He lets them in if they have five apiece.”

“That’s not bad. With no school, they have all day to give five BJs.”

Sinead had one more piece of intel for Slim and CC.

“What struck me about that Alain talk was how sincere Bernadette was. It wasn’t a flattering light she painted herself in, and I believed every word.”

“Of course.”

“See, the thing is, for being so open and honest, it made the tale even steamier. I could picture, clear as bell, Bernadette begging, Alain holding back. It was like watching a porno film back in Dublin. And Caroline felt the same way. Both of the lassies got flushed and excited and turned on.”

“Oh. I hadn’t known that.”

“So, when they reached down and started finger-fucking themselves, was I surprised? Not in the least. It seemed as natural as a priest buggering a little choir boy.”

“Huh, finger-fucking in Cunts Corner, now that’s interesting.”

“So I thought.”

Slim looked pensive, then smiled, “Sinéad, spread the word — every lady who gets herself off in Cunts Corner gets five dollars.”

Sinéad nodded, “That’s a lot, down here.”

CC, “Make it ten if they finger-fuck each other.”

Slim laughed, “Even better. How’s your Sabine fund, Sinéad?”

“A little over two hundred dollars.”

“I’ll add another three when we get back to town.” She looked around, giggled, and said, “Move the rope-line closer, so it’s only about five feet from the action.”

“You’ll have a lot of takers, Slim, at five and ten dollars. But Sabine can afford it, I guess.”

CC grinned, “Slim, let’s pay ‘em twenty dollars if they bring their kid to watch ‘em in Cunts Corner.”

Slim squeezed his cock affectionately.

Sinéad shook her head, and nodded at CC, “It’s twisted company ye been hanging around with, Slim.”

The Danny Boy and Jill sex tape that Ray-Ray edited was his best work ever. He knew it even before his mother and Kate confirmed it.

He had artfully juxtaposed Jill’s face — her explicit expression as she climaxed — with the various positions that Ray-Ray moved her around in. It looked as if her orgasms were caused by Danny Boy’s fucking her — reverse cowgirl, missionary, etc — but it was usually Denise’s skilled fingers that got her off.

Kate pulled Jill aside at one of the Monday Mamas breakfasts and tole her, “Ray-Ray really brought out the total slut in you. You are one sexy lady.”

Jill blushed with pleasure, with pride. She adored the compliment, but coming from Kate Broussard ... well, it meant the world to her.

Sabine smiled at Slim, “You and CC take Eve down to see Celine.”

Slim giggled; Celine Boudreaux and her three sons. Eve Castilian was in for treat.

Slim smiled back, “Can CC have a turn too?”

“Of course, Eve is one of us now.”

Eve had no idea who Celine was, but there was no question what ‘CC having a turn’ meant. It meant that she would be enjoying a piece of that gorgeous teenage boy. The one she’d been lusting after. The one she’d been intending to ask Sabine for.

Eve, having returned from her educational tour of the Cajun Bayous, decided to go with the flow, decided not to ask who Celine was. Eve was already excited about CC. The rest ... well, she’d find out.

At the City Dock, Slim and CC stripped naked, so Eve followed suit. “I assume it’s clothing optional at this Celine’s.”

Slim grinned, “Very optional.”

They rode south for almost an hour. Eve was getting used to the Jon boat; she no longer clung to the sides. They passed a few fishermen along the way, but the boat traffic died away the further from the bayous they traveled.

As CC docked at the rather large pier, Eve took in the sight. And what a sight it was. Celine Boudreaux, tall and deeply tanned from daily exposure to the sun, was stunning. Almost as sexy as Slim.

But it was the three naked boys that riveted Eve’s attention. Equally brown bodies, the same blazingly white smile as their mother, they were breathtakingly sexy. Eve stared, not even pretending not to.

CC handed Celine a large jar of moonshine which she accepted gratefully.

Slim said, “Celine, this is Eve Castilian, she’s Sabine’s newest whore.” Eve tore her eyes away to shake hands with the stunning woman.