Chapter 42: Fifi and Paula Dubois...

Fifi and Paulie Dubois never felt the need to discuss his dominance over his mother. He had told her that once he got her going, got her out of control, he wouldn’t stop no matter how much she pleaded and begged.

For her part, Fifi had accepted the inevitable. Allie Petrie had already asserted her dominion, but that was just an occasional thing. Paulie, well, Paulie was home every night. And Fifi’’s husband, Donny, was gone ten days at a time.

Fifi and Paulie no longer woke up at 5:30 for their practice sessions. No need, not any longer. Sometimes he ‘did’ her after school, most times, not. Same at bedtime; Fifi never knew what to expect. She did understand that he had grown toward manhood in the past several weeks.

Not physically — he was still in the body of a 14-year-old boy. But as he mastered his techniques, his prowess over her, he had grown emotionally more stable and mentally stronger.

Part of her was just a little terrified of her own sexual vulnerability. She loved the feeling of sluttiness that he brought out. Brought out even better than Allie ever had. And she loved being available to him. That he could have her, possess her, anytime he wanted.

The one part of her newfound subservience that really bothered her was that Paulie not only decided what, when, and where, but if. The boy had an eerie sixth sense of when she was the very neediest, the hungriest.

At first, he was delighted to accommodate her lusty side. He was still at that stage that he was amazed she would let him have his way. Amazed at how far he could push her.

But lately, he seemed to enjoy ignoring her signals; signals subtle and blatant. He seemed to get a kick out of seeing her squirm. Blush. Bite her tongue to keep from begging for it.

She understood on some instinctive level that Paulie wasn’t being intentionally cruel to her. He was experimenting, testing his wings, determining what he could and couldn’t get away with.

But sometimes his equanimity, his composure, drove her almost batty. She could feel the pressure build, her need build, through the morning and into the afternoon. She forced herself to stop checking the time, stop willing the clock hands to speed up until school was finally out for the day.

The worst was sitting there beside him, knowing exactly what he was capable of doing to her. Knowing the pleasure levels he could lift her to. How he could make her cum. And cum and cum and cum...

All in all, it took about three months before Paulie took Fifi to that wondrous land where Allie had originally reigned. As mild orgasms began rippling through her, Fifi had no premonition that this was the night. Nor did Paulie, although he was perpetually hopeful.

By the time Fifi found herself shrieking into a pillow, begging and begging him to stop (and knowing deep down that he wouldn’t), she had lost her ability to think rationally. To consider the momentousness of the night.

She was lost in what had once been Allie’s domain, but would be Paulie’s from then on. And ‘lost’ meant the ability for cognitive evaluation. She was raw nerves, open and vulnerable, helpless and lost.

Fifi had no idea, no sense of time, no clue as to how long Paulie kept her going.

For his part, Paulie didn’t feel triumphant, didn’t feel he’d accomplished anything heroic. More, there was a deep satisfaction. Happiness for his mother, and a subconscious realization that he’d brought them both to the place she wanted them to be.

As he lay on his tummy between her thighs, caressing her so lightly that it was like not touching her at all, he stared at her face in fascination. He couldn’t articulate what he was seeing; yet on some inchoate level he understood it was no longer his mother, was hardly even a woman.

Later, as he discussed it with Fifi, he stumbled for the words, “It was like you were pussy. I know that sounds crazy, but...”

“Paulie, honey, I was pussy. Pure pussy.”

The next day she tried to explain it more clearly, but the fact was, she didn’t really understand it herself. “When you make me cum ... uh, let’s see ... it’s hard to explain ... but they’re real soft orgasms. I mean I know I’m cuming, but it’s almost like I’m not? Quite? At first, it’s like gentle waves lapping on a beach? Except I know you’re not going to stop? Anyway ... it’s like the waves are getting bigger, but my climaxes are getting smaller? Smaller, but faster? Oh, fuck, I don’t know!”

Paulie did her the next three nights in a row. At first, to prove it hadn’t been a fluke, an outlier. And then because he wanted to. And then because he could.

Fifi told him, “Now that I know you can do it, know what to expect, it’s like it’s easier and easier for me to give in, to lose myself. To turn myself over to you.”

Later she said, “I was reading that some people are more susceptible to being hypnotized — they just go right under. And that’s sort of how I’m getting with you. When you slide those pillows under my butt, I’m already moist.”

Grin, “I know, Fifi.”

For now, he was making her play the waiting game, making her go without it night after night. She had broken down — begged him for it twice. She called him at school, first period, and was crying softly, so in need.

That afternoon he brought Tee-Boy home with him. Paulie had never done her in front of anyone; not since he had totally won her over. Fifi didn’t mind, she didn’t care if the entire Dirty Dozen watched him do her.

When the boys came out of the shower, she already had the pillows in place, was gently stroking herself. But Paulie turned to his buddy, started stroking Tee-Boy, licking him, sucking him slowly, savoring, taking his time.

Fifi understood that Paulie was teasing her, making her wait even longer while she was in heat. But she also knew it was more than that. She had broken down, had called him at school, had begged him for it. This was a mild retaliation for her weakness, an unspoken rebuke.

When Tee-Boy finally spurted, when Paulie had gotten the very last drop, Fifi felt like a weight had been lifted. The sudden relief she felt resulted in her going under faster than ever before.

Paulie didn’t tease her, didn’t slow everything down, didn’t make her beg. He just lay down between her thighs and gave her what she craved. Fifi felt no embarrassment in front of Tee-Boy, certainly no shame at her blatant need. In fact, the visitor was swiftly forgotten.

Later, Fifi heard herself screaming, begging Paulie to stop. Begging and pleading and screeching like a madwoman. At one point, something in her mind gave way. She didn’t quite pass out, she was faintly aware of tiny rippling climaxes, but she could no longer see anything, could no longer hear anything. Only her sense of touch persisted.

Later, she was vaguely aware of Paulie and Tee-Boy half-carrying her into the shower. Of standing under icy cold water that drenched her from head to toe.

Then she was sitting in the kitchen where Paulie helped her sip hot tea, heavy with sugar and milk. She glassily looked at Tee-Boy and him, leaning against a counter, erections pointing up. She smiled wanly at Tee-Boy, “Well, you saw.”

He didn’t simper, didn’t lord her weakness over her. “Mrs. Dubois, even my mother couldn’t do that to you.”

Fifi smiled weakly, sat back in the kitchen chair, arms dangling, spent.

Paulie gestured at her, “You wanna fuck her? Or slut-fuck her?”

Fifi didn’t care one way or another.

Tee-Boy shook his head, “No thanks, she’s worthless now.”

Paulie nodded, “Yeah.”

It was a couple of months later when she lost her willpower again. This time she didn’t wait until he left in the morning, “Please, baby, as soon as you get home from school. I need it so bad. Am I begging you? Yes, yes I am.”

After school, Paulie went home with Tee-Boy; they spent the night in Allie’s bed.

When Linda got home from her rooftop session with Sissy, her phone pinged — Ray-Ray sent her an artfully edited clip of that little adventure. As Linda watched herself, marveling at the sheer wantonness of the impromptu scene, she evaluated how she felt about her own lewd participation. And was relieved to find she had no regrets, zero.

The morning had been a slow, sensuous build, a gradual reveal. Ray-Ray hadn’t pushed them into anything, nor had Kate. In fact, Kate hadn’t even been there.

Linda looked better, far better, than in the Cunts Corner shoot. And it wasn’t just the professional makeup either. It was ... attitudinal. She felt confident, sexy, sure of herself. And when Sissy was doing her ... well, Linda somehow looked like the 42-year-old matron that she was and delightfully slutty at the same time. In fact, as she heated up, her face took on a younger and younger glow.

Linda checked herself again and again. Of course she was prejudiced, but she believed that she could almost pass for 30 when Sissy was licking her.

Her ringtone sounded; Sissy. “Hi there, lover-girl.”

Linda laughed, “Got the video, did you?”

“Just now. Know what? We looked good, didn’t we?”

“Absolutely. In a MILF kind of way.”

“Well, I’d want to fuck us.”

“Me too, babe, me too.”

Sissy was quiet for a moment, then spoke softly, “I enjoyed it, being with you.”

“Oh, God! Me too. I mean, obviously.”

Sissy giggled, “You weren’t faking it, that’s for sure.”

Linda mused, “You know, I hadn’t been with another girl since high school. You made me wonder, what the fuck was I thinking about?”

An even softer voice, “I’d like to see you again. Just the two of us.”

Laughter in her own voice, Linda said, “Me too. But you know what? I wouldn’t mind if Ray-Ray or Joe-Joe taped us.”

“God, am I falling for a slut?”

“Speaking of tapes, I suppose Kate will post it. If she hasn’t already.”

“No, it’s interesting. I asked her that right before I called you. She had Ray-Ray take down all the videos of the Calendar Girls. Just the nude pictures are still up.”

“Huh. Why?”

“This is the sound of me patting myself on the back, but she told me that our rooftop tape was so hot that she’s saving all the videos of all us girls for the Calendar edition.”

Linda thought about it, “You know, that makes sense. Keep some mystery. Use the still photos as a ... a, I dunno, promo or something. Then pay a hundred bucks to see your friends and neighbors as you’ve never seen them.”

“Yeah, I think that’s her thinking. And you know what else? She told me that I’ll be the youngest girl in the Calendar.”

“Will I be the oldest? You’re 30, I’m 42, that’s quite a range.”

“Kate likes it that we’ve got eight kids between us — my toddlers to your teenagers.”

“Well, we certainly won’t be the typical bimbos that the boys jack off to.”

“Yeah, but that’s what Kate’s banking on. You know how popular Moms Gone Wild and Grannies Gone Wild are.”

“True.”

“With the Calendar Girls, she’s riffing on that same theme. Moms, maybe a couple of grannies, but just regular Sausalito housewives.”

“Not professional strippers.”

“Exactly. But she says guys will still be beating off to us. I hope so!”

“Um ... I guess I wouldn’t mind it myself. I’ll just blank out the idea of my three boys.”

“Why? I think the idea’s hot.”

“Twisted.”

“Of course!”

“Sissy, how ... um, explicit do you think the video sections will be?”

“You know Kate. I figure she’s going to push us and push us. And I still signed up knowing that.”

“You’re braver than I am.”

“I doubt that, not after this morning.”

“Well.”

Fifi found herself in a sort of state of suspended animation. Paulie sometimes did her without any discussion. He just piled up a couple of pillows and plopped her down. Heaven!

Mostly, he made her wait. Was it her imagination, or was he covertly studying her? Trying to figure out when she’d crack. Break down and beg him again. She hadn’t mentioned the last time, the time he’d spent the night with Tee-Boy and Allie. She was just so relieved when he came home from school the next day. Neither of them ever spoke of it. Fifi figured that Paulie believed she had learned her lesson about begging him for it.

Another time when she’d reached another point of desperation, she’d called the Castilian sisters to ask for four or five boys. “I don’t care who they are — I just need some cock today. Bad.”

Susie told her, “Have Paulie call us.”

Janie told her sister, “Tee-Boy was right. Fifi belongs to Paulie.”

“Totally.”

“Typical.”

“Textbook.”

A week later, or was it two, she called Allie, “I need you, babe, I’m climbing walls. Even just half an hour?”

“Aw, hon. Did you clear it with Paulie?”

With Donny gone ten days at a stretch, Fifi had always been a masturbator. Nothing chronic, just a few blessed minutes to take the edge off.

Now, she could still make herself cum, but it was a pale imitation of what Paulie could do to her. She tried to develop that feathery touch that Allie and he had, but couldn’t even come close.

When Paulie came home and wanted some pussy, she gratefully gave it to him. Then at least she could blatantly play with herself while getting fucked. It made her sad, but sex with Paulie was now better than with Donny — in fact, far better.

Usually, though, all Paulie wanted was a blowjob. Well, better than nothing. She had once asked him, “Honey, can I get myself off while I’m doing you?”

“Sure.”

So, that was something.

But worst of all, humiliating in a way, was when he merely wanted to jack off. He had discovered that it excited him to have her sit there and watch. To have her describe how horny she was, how desperate.

She asked him, “Will you at least cum in my mouth?” He had reduced her to that.

“Sure, Fifi, of course.”

Despite all of the humiliation, all of her frustration, she was glad that Allie had taught Paulie how to do her. The few times that he deigned to take her to the heights made it all worthwhile. She understood the irony in her personal development. She’d gone from the shyest of the Dirty Dozen to the most blatantly needy. She had no shame, no hesitation in broadcasting her desperation for sexual fulfillment. Her friends knew it, their sons knew it ... it didn’t matter to her.

Simply, the daily possibility that when Paulie came home from school, he might be in the mood, might give her that lopsided smile and reach for his pillows ... that was enough to sustain her. Was enough to keep her from going absolutely bonkers.

He still let her sleep in his bed — the boy did like to snuggle. And, so far as she could determine, although he hadn’t said anything, she could diddle herself as much as she wanted as she held him close.

She didn’t try to keep quiet as she climaxed; he hadn’t once complained. Although, out of caution and courtesy, she refrained from masturbating as he drifted off to sleep.

Once in a while, she woke up around three or four in the morning with an overwhelming urge. She slowly, slowly, scooted around and took him in her mouth. This became one of her secret pleasures. She knew him so well; she could get him erect almost instantly. And then take him to the brink and keep him there as long as she wanted.

Sometimes he murmured in his sleep, and he usually moaned in pleasure when he shot off. But she came to treasure that secret, private time when she licked around the crown, felt that strong pulse-beat on her lips. She didn’t even play with herself, just savored sucking on the boy she loved more than anyone else in the world. Even more than Allie.

Kate was pleased with her Calendar Girls. With the project itself, with the progress she was making. She employed the tactics that Eulalie had championed, including gently teasing them, testing them, pushing their limits.

It had worked especially well with the Dirty Dozen; Kate had moved things along swiftly, keeping them a little off balance. She fired the girls who hesitated or failed to comply. And rewarded the gutsiest of them. The classic carrot and stick.