Chapter 49: One Morning — It Was 102 Degrees...

One morning — it was 102 degrees and not yet seven — Sally and Nance pulled up in a little Jon boat. They wore thongs; the Fournier family was nude. Henri was nursing.

Willa poured chicory; WZYD played on the little kitchen radio. Willa explained, “Mama hasn’t had her first cum yet.”

Sally and Nance, veteran Toni watchers, nodded as they watched the flush of passion start to creep down her chest. Then Nance sat up, “Henri?”

Toni sucked in her breath; he pulled back, “Yes ma’am?”

“Why don’t you straddle your sweet mama?”

Sally nodded, liking the idea, “Yeah, then you can go from tit to tit.”

Henri tilted his head, thinking it over. “Huh.”

He easily shifted his little body around and placed his thighs over Toni’s. He was now facing her directly with her boobs exactly at the right height.

Willa and Sally and Nance watched as Henri spent some time with one nipple, then the other. Toni was squirming in her chair. The rhythm was off, or at least different, but she loved the twin sensations.

Then Henri suddenly concentrated on her left nipple, sucking it harder, licking it at the same time, biting it gently. Toni shrieked, “YES!” and humped her hips up a couple of inches. Henri didn’t hesitate, just switched breasts and intensified things even more.

The mood in the room had shifted dramatically. He made Toni quickly cum a second time. Then, back to the left boob. It took a couple of minutes, but he found the formula. He was able to get her off, switch breasts, make her cum again, switch back.

He had her bucking and screaming and slapping his back and cumming and cumming.

Willa whispered, “Sweet Jesus.”

Willa felt she had to step in; Toni was getting out of control. And Henri was too polite to turn her down when she tugged him onto her lap. Willa was a practical Cajun girl, used to looking at life head-on.

So she took their little Jon boat and went calling. She wore her favorite thong — yellow with CUNT in blue vertical letters. Every girl in school, back when there was school, and their mothers had a CUNT thong. They were free at the Bayou Bar and were an overnight sensation.

With her innocent, heart-shaped face, she could have passed for 11 or 12. But she was an experienced 15-year-old girl, old enough to have had several babies. As a few of her friends had. Willa’s preference for other girls had spared her from that particular fate.

She stopped first at the little house, which was owned by Nellie Belanger. As she walked up the steps, she could hear zydeco playing on WZYD. Nellie, an overweight Cajun woman of around 40, greeted her with boudin and iced tea. Nellie was wearing a white thong without any messages.

They embraced and sat at the kitchen table. Nellie’s first words, “Is it true what I hear ‘bout Henri? All that cum?”

“Yes ma’am, he shoots a gusher.” Willa shook her head in wonder, “They’s as much the third time as the first.” Even though she’d seen it countless times, she was still astounded at the sheer volume.

“That I gotta see.” Nellie had a faraway look, trying to picture it.

“Come by anytime.”

They visited back and forth for a minute, then Willa got to the point, “Mama’s gotten herself in a fix. All she wants is Henri. He’s got her hooked.”

Nellie nodded sympathetically, “An you wanna borrow Big Charlie.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Big Charlie, Nellie’s husband, had been fucking Toni for years, dating back to when they were school kids. He had seen no reason to stop just because he’d married Nellie.

Nellie’s thoughts went to the practical, “He’s hired out — one of them Vietnam fishing boats. Big one. But he’ll be back tonight. When you want him?”

“I’ll feed him breakfast tomorrow? Then he kin get to Mama early.”

Nellie smiled, “First thing?”

“No, she wakes Henri up for her first cum. But Big Charlie can do her right after.”

They shook on it.

Next stop — Annie Lambert. Same small house, rickety steps, WZYD. Cornbread this time. Annie had on a knee-length tee; Willa knew it was because of her 15-year-old twin boys. Walking hard-ons. Tee-Bob and Tee-Joe lit up when they saw Willa. Annie sighed as they sprouted instant erections.

Willa quickly explained the situation to Annie, “An’ Big Charlie’s coming by for breakfast. So if your boys don’ mind sloppy seconds...”

Annie scoffed, “They’ll be there. Probably camp out on your deck all night.”

Willa checked the twins out. A little pudgy, like their mother, and not that well hung. But their reputation for fast recovery times was a topic of bayou-wide discussion.

They eyeballed Willa eagerly, but knew she was out of bounds. Only another girl would have a shot at her. Annie walked Willa out to their front deck, “Is it true what I heard, that Henri?”

“Yes ma’am, my granny Theresa said, he cums more than any two, three boys combined.”

Annie nodded, rumors verified, “Theresa’s seen a lot of cum, that ole gal.”

As she circled her Jon boat to head back home, Willa saw the twins had joined their mother out on the deck. And had their hips thrust out as they masturbated toward the departing girl. Annie must have seen it a hundred times, but Willa found it interesting. The twins’s hands moved in perfect synchronization. She wondered if they came simultaneously.

Christmas Eve. Saturday morning. The Calendar Girls drove to Miss Kitty’s feeling different emotions. The bolder ones like Linda Mouton and Sissy Bardot were looking forward to performing on stage. Some, the shy ones like petite Sue Ellen Dumont, were visibly nervous.

Yet there was no question — all twelve of them were committed to getting up there on that stage, stripping, and showing it all to the hundred or so boys in the audience.

And, each of them was committed to following Ray-Ray’s edict — they would cum, one at a time. Really cum, no faking it.

They’d all paid at least one Saturday morning visit, so they knew what to expect. A wall of naked boys surrounding the four sides of the stage. Each of the lads cheerfully masturbating as they gazed up at real live women. In the case of the Calendar Girls ... several boys would actually know each of them personally. A pal’s mom, a neighbor, a friend of their own mother ... seeing someone they knew and spoke with made it all the more special.

In the dressing room, the girls chatted among themselves excitedly. Seeing their friends served as a reminder that they weren’t in this alone. All twelve of them would be on stage at the same time.

They’d rehearsed and rehearsed the simple dance number that Evelyn had choreographed for them. They weren’t professional dancers, but they were decent enough to put on a good show. Especially since dancing was the last thing the audience would be interested in.

The house lights dimmed, the Calendar Girls strutted out, and the last vestiges of nerves abated. The roar of over a hundred teenage boys welcomed them into the arena.

As Prince blared over the sound system, the girls instinctively fell into a group rhythm — twirling and bumping and grinding as their white tennis skirts flowed. The first item to go was the baseball cap — tossed into the sea of boys with abandon. A souvenir for a few lucky boys.

Half a minute later — the crop tops. Evelyn had told them, “Once you show your tits, you own those boys.”

The cheers, which had never quite died down, escalated as the tops sailed into the audience.

Skirts — flung cheerfully away. Now they were down to a thong and heels. The heels would stay. As practiced, they went one at a time. Margot slid her thong down, laughed out loud, and sling-shotted into the clamoring throng.

One by one by one. Then, naked except for their heels, they formed a square — three girls facing each of the four sides of the stage. The boys whistled and jostled and scrambled to get a closer view.

Arms around each other’s shoulders, mostly in tempo, they kicked their right legs up and balanced their right foot on the barre bars that Evelyn had installed. Some girls were taller, some had better balance, but every set of eyeballs was riveted to the bald pussies that were suddenly on blatant display.

The cheers went through the roof.

For the Calendar Girls, that moment was better, sexier, more exciting, than anything they’d imagined. Faces flushed, nipples erect, wide grins plastered on their faces.

As Ray-Ray’s tapes would later show, several boys on each of the four sides of the stage shot off into their cum towels. And never took their eyes off the girls.

But that round of pussy display was just the start.

Evelyn dimmed the house lights further and turned on a single spotlight, right in the center of the stage. A leather chair on casters, was wheeled out. The boys grew silent — this was new; they didn’t know what to expect.

At the last minute, Honey Calhoun had been selected to go first. She was flushed with excitement. She wished briefly that Slim Hebert was there to see her, but quickly refocused on the boys staring up at her.

Velma stood behind the chair, the other girls were off to the side, out of the spotlight. Honey paused, letting the tension, the expectations build. Velma said, “Do it, slut,” and Honey reached down between her thighs and started fingering herself. One boy shouted out, “She’s going to cum!”

Velma slowly turned the swivel chair to face the west, then the north, the east, then the south. Evelyn adjusted the lighting. Honey was loving it. In her element. Relaxed and turned on, really, genuinely turned on. She felt it build and build and... “YESSS!”

A thunderous roar from the audience.

After that, it was easy for each girl to take her turn in the spotlight. The ice had been broken, the boys’ enthusiasm fueled the fire. Linda and Sissy hated to stop. But the best was yet to come.

With the stage fully lit again, the girls paired off — each assigned a partner by Ray-Ray. He didn’t let them match up as they would have on their own — Honey with Velma, Linda with Sissy. But it didn’t really matter to them — they were still flushed with enthusiasm and eager to perform the most intimate part of the show.

It was a first for Miss Kitty’s — twelve girls finger-fucking each other, licking pussy, trading partners. A veritable on-stage orgy that would be talked about for weeks and weeks. It was even more remarkable because these ladies weren’t professional dancers; weren’t the Dirty Dozen. Just regular moms and wives on the boldest journey of their lives.

Evelyn gradually lowered the lights and turned the music off. The signal to the girls that their on-stage debut was finished.

Later, walking the floor, working the eager audience, signing autographs ... all of that was a nice coda to the morning. But for most of them, nothing had compared with sitting in that chair, by themselves, in the spotlight, cuming to a wildly cheering audience of boisterous, naked, masturbating boys.

Ray-Ray didn’t post the videos, but gave each girl an edited tape of her solo performance. And a stack of 4x6 photos that captured her in the moment of a blissful orgasm.

They didn’t need to be told — those most intimate pictures were autographed and dispersed to individual boys, and girls, all over town.

Willa Fournier felt she had things on the homefront more or less under control. She had reduced Henri’s nursing sessions to two a day. First thing in the morning — Toni was at her most needy then.

And again at bedtime. She told Henri, “You can go a long time — keep sucking her even after you cum. If you want to.” He nodded solemnly.

She looked at Toni, “But if I come in your room and tell him to stop ... well, you go ahead and have your final cum, but that’s it. And he goes back to his own bed.”

Toni nodded rather glumly. But she didn’t argue with Willa any more. The strong-willed girl just ... well, Toni didn’t argue any more. She did move Henri’s bedtime up, and Willa let it slide. Compromise was a way of life in the Cajun Bayous.

Just as mothers had negotiated with their sons to wear underwear in return for more frequent handjobs, Willa and Toni reached an understanding that neither one was particularly pleased with, but that both could live with.

Shannon Trudeau interviewed Honey Calhoun on Shannon Says the Monday after the Calendar Girls had performed their socko show. That had been on Saturday, Christmas Eve. Sunday, Christmas, was a family day for the girls.

On Monday, Cliff left for a run to Birmingham. And Honey was still flushed from the show, from the enthusiastic response, from being honked at and greeted on the street.

Shannon, “So, we have Honey Calhoun, the one Yankee representative on the vaunted Calendar Girls team. Honey, first, let’s talk about the project itself. Kate Broussard donated the entire proceeds from your Saturday show to Sausalito General. It came to over two thousand dollars.”

“Wow.”

“The biggest audience in the 20-year history of Miss Kitty’s. Tell me, tell Sausalito, what was it like stripping in front of more than 100 naked boys?”

“Well, the main thing of course, it was for charity.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let me ask it a different way ... is it true that you were the first to sit down, buck fucking naked, in that swivel chair and finger-fuck yourself to an orgasm?’

Honey blushed, but soldiered through, “Ray-Ray’s goal — Ray-Ray Fontenot? — was for us to put on a great show. And ... and, not to fake anything.”

“So you did cum? With all those boys jacking off?”

Honey sat up straighter, “I didn’t fake anything — none of the girls did.”

Shannon sensed it was time to pounce, “Whose pussy did you lick? Up there on that stage?”

Honey took a deep breath, “Um, Margot. Then Sue Ellen, then ... um, Sissy, Sissy Bardot.”

“Hang on, Sausalito, I have Kate Broussard herself on the line. The esteemed owner of Miss Kitty’s and the power behind the Calendar project. Go ahead, Kate.”

“Shannon, I am overwhelmed. I put the calendar on sale at six this morning. We already have over one thousand confirmed orders. And that’s at one hundred dollars per.”

Even Shannon was impressed, “Kate, that’s over one hundred thousand dollars for Sausalito General. I am astounded.”

“Well, it blew me away too. Let me describe the calendar for your listeners. There’s a group shot for each month.”

“Nude?”

“Of course.”

“Kate, there’s nude and there’s nude. I want to know, Sausalito wants to know, will we see cunt?”

“Of course, Shannon, there’s nothing coy about the Calendar Girls. We shaved their pussies and they bared it all for a worthy cause.”

“Good, good, good. So ... twelve group photos, one for each month.”

“That’s right. And each girl is featured individually as well. For instance, Honey Calhoun is June. She’s shown with pom-poms, high-kicking in front of the John Lee Hooker soccer field.”

“I can just picture it.”

“And in addition to the calendar itself, each buyer will have access to the digital version. Which features intimate videos, interviews with the girls, candid discussions about life in the nude.”

“Kate, the video section ... that will be restricted to adults only, right.”

“Yes, it’s a little too racy for the younger set. So, access is strictly age-restricted.”

“Quite commendable. Now a little birdie told me that the Saturday morning performance was taped. Comment?”

“Yes, your birdie has good sources. Ray-Ray had three cameras working. But he hasn’t yet decided what to do with those tapes. I imagine he’ll figure something out when he’s through editing them.”

“Overall, how pleased were you with your Calendar Girls? Did they deliver what you wanted?”

“Shannon, I am delighted with each and every one of them. It took guts to pose naked in all those outdoor locations. And it’s not like they were professional dancers either. When they got up there on the stage last Saturday, they were just working wives and mothers. An inspiration to us all.”

“I see we’re out of time. Kate, congrats on your Sausalito General campaign. And Honey, one last question for you, is it true that Slim Hebert herself has taken you under her wing?”