Mojo - 37. Chapter 34: da pedicure

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Chapter 34: da pedicure

Kneeling in church, I prayed not to the man on the cross, but recited slowly the plea I’d rehearsed in the inn to Christ’s more ancient, purer incarnation.

At my back I could feel the breeze coming from the west through the huge open doors. On this movement of air rode the continuing sounds and smells of the Crotones fiesta.

I felt a sudden pressure on my right side. I opened my eyes and saw an old woman sitting at the end of my pew. As I got up and settled into the seat next to her. I recognized her as the same ancient grandma Squiffy had pointed out the first day of the festival. Here was the same ‘harridan’ laughing freely at Sadeeq’s poetry while leaning on the handle of a rustic broom.

She flashed a rumpled grin and a gold priapic pendant on her chest. “Are you a friend of the God?”

I slowly shook my head, deathly afraid, but more scared of inaction. “I believe he hates me. What is your name, old one?”

“You may call me Fala Diosa.”

“My name is Kohl.”

“Yes. The God told me what you are called, and that you would be seeking something very vital.”

“Yes. Vitality itself.”

“But you look tired, niño.”

“I am.”

“Fatigued of more than just body; of spirit too.”

“Yes, so tired of it all.”

The Wrinkled One gestured to a small door. “My casita lies just beyond. Come.” She stood cheerily. “I will refresh you there.”

A few minutes later, I was seated in a crude little lean-to built against the side wall of the church. The corrugated tin roof seemed to transfer the desert sun in oven-like effect. My brow began to sweat from both warmth and nervousness; what did this old witch have in store for me?

Fala Diosa was busy near a central arch built into the exterior wall of the church. She grunted, and I heard water slosh from some depth. “Can I help…?”

“No, child.”

In another minute, she had a dripping bucket setting on her table. A knowing grin lifted her kind lines of care. “The blessed waters of the sacred spring. This, my boy, is the reason why you are here.”

Gulp.

She grabbed a shiny, freshly polished brass bowl and ladle from a peg on the wall and returned to the table. Fala Diosa filled the vessel with spring water and set the bucket on the floor. “Come. Get closer so you can see what I can see, niño.”

The priestess sat and pulled a chair over for me. I drew close to her side and joined her. The bowl she placed near the corner of the table where we could both look into its crystal-clear depths.

“Through adivinación, the great Blue-Green One will show me what I need to know…. How to help you.”

She stared into the pan, and although I personally witnessed no change in the agua, the woman’s eyes became round with wonder.

“Your novio is very special.”

“My boyfriend – I mean, my husband?”

“Sí.”

“Yes, he’s very special.”

“I mean, blessed, my boy. The God has kept his eye on Señor Gordon for a very long time.”

“Really?” I looked harder into the seemingly bottomless pot. If info on my boy was in there, Himmel, I might swim in it.

“Gordon has a green thumb, which is a gift and blessing of the God. ¡Dios!” she exclaimed without warning.

“What…what?”

“I see an accident at sea: a wreck and great loss of life.”

“Oh. Yes. I’d rather not think about—”

“It occurred because an argument arose between Neptuno and the God. As I say, Priapus is fond of your Gordon. He has had his protection on the nature-boy for a very long time. But Neptuno was insulted by Gordon’s attitude and sea-mistakes. The Wet One vowed to punish the niño by inflicting a fate worse than death – Trọng!”

She rocked back on her seat, as if the sight was too horrible to bear. She held my eyes and said soberly, “Neptuno wanted your boy humiliated sexually to effect his revenge.”

“But…. That didn’t happen.”

“No?”

“No.”

She leaned back in to get an update.

“Ah, I see; I see. Because Neptune’s plans were thwarted, in his rage he raised a storm at sea to kill all who signed the truce.”

She looked up to me again, saying, “La concordia among men is not in the best interests of the gods.”

I puzzled a moment, knowing I’d heard that somewhere before. “But, Fala Diosa, I’m more concerned with Priapus’ hex on my dick. I never plan to be on the ocean again.”

Once more, her stooped frame bent to the story in the sacred waters. Once more, her wicked smile rose up to me. “He has shown me what to do.” She stood, taking the bowl from the table. “But, niño, are you ready to endure the retribution He demands of you?”

Gulp.

I had a moment of my typical instinct to run from tough circumstances, but then I thought of Gordon, of how happy he looked at the corn stand, and I wanted that contentment in him forever. “Yes.”

“All right.” She pulled out a smaller bowl and dipped some of the sacred water into it. Then she retrieved a saucer with which olive oil seemed to half fill it. These items were set on the corner of the table before the Old One went to a cabinet. In another moment, she returned to me and held out a large object wrapped in cloth. As she lifted the fabric corners, I stumbled backwards to my feet. “But that’s…. That’s….”

“A dildo, sí.”

No ordinary sex toy, it was attached to a wearable set of leather straps – not to mention the Schwanz part of it was of herculean size!

“Where did you get that?!” I asked, moving towards the door out of the casita. I was freaked, but the old woman laid a dry hand on my forearm. After a moment, she shrugged. “El eBay.”

The ordinariness of the reply had a bit of a calming effect. It was enough at least to remind me of my resolve, for Gordon’s sake.

She gently led me back to the table, where she drew off my tee-shirt. Her hands tugged at my sweatpants, and I dutifully got naked for her, feeling no embarrassment.

“Lie on the table, facing up.”

I did, but it was only large enough to accommodate my back and head. The rest of me dangled off one end. I propped myself up a little on elbows to watch her actions.

She took the saucer of oil and mixed in some powdered items of black and green. The old one cracked a wrinkled grin and bent down to show me the sloshing contents. “Here…see: granos de pimienta negra molida, con semillas de ruda, y aceite de oliva.”

‘Cracked pepper…rue seeds…olive oil,’ I went over the ingredients in my mind like a demented grocery list.

Fala Diosa tapped the rim knowingly, setting the saucer down. But what I saw next was disgusting. She spat in the smaller bowl of holy water and stirred it all around with a finger.

Starting at my lower extremities, she anointed certain parts of my body, reciting an incantation and blessing.

First, the soles of my feet became wet.

“Covertly, he asks of you:

‘Give me all that you may,

And offer it every day.’”

My thighs were moistened one by one.

“’Give to me my rightful due

As Jove the boy carries

To heaven and there tarries.’”

Her wet fingers – now mingling the water with oil – caressed the length of my soft shaft.

“’Like the shy bride, afraid to screw,

Suggests instead on her wedding night,

So her ‘virgin part’ stays all right.’”

Fala Diosa drew a line of liquid along my abdomen, up to my heart.

“In plain English, he’ll say anew:

‘Offer up to me your ass,

And your bliss will never pass.’”[1]

She was up to my face now, and I halted her hand.

Gently, she said, “Lie back, niño. The sacred water will cure your current blindness.”

I nodded, released her wrist and lay back. Small pinholes in the tin roof let shafts of sunlight animate the milieu of dust particles in the air. Some of them fell on the priestess like laser spotlights.

Fala Diosa dipped her right index and middle finger in the water, and then brought it to her mouth where she liberally placed a wad of spittle.

I closed my eyes, and she anointed them, making more soothing sounds as she rubbed the moisture in.

When she’d finished, and I opened them again, my environment seemed changed. A warmth and tingling in my sight rounded edges, hazed the light, and brought a beautiful mystery to everything. Part of me felt drunk and unresponsive; another part of me had never felt more connected and alive.

Time became lost and irrelevant. Vaguely, I was aware of her preparation, and a slight sensation of oily coolness on the entryway of my passage. The spices then began to sting, but along with that feeling spread a delectable warmth as she worked them in and out.

It seemed more time passed, and then I felt her climbing on the table – my back sliding up so my head lolled off the end drunkenly. She pressed against my hole, but I gaped at the fuzzy shafts of light, feeling relaxed and prepared.

She entered me and paused. I reeled with pain at first, but I had a vision of Gordon from my dream: he pushed a wheelbarrow along the paths of his family nursery, and passed me a look of pure love and unwavering devotion.

The tension left me, and Fala Diosa fucked me with a strength not her own. The initial stinging sensation quickly gave way to unbelievable pleasure, and I remembered what it felt like with Gordon when he sometimes wanted to use ‘warming gel’ as the lube. It was incredible.

At the height of passion, I forced my head up. The laser jets of light remained softened and struck the crone’s face with caresses. As she pummeled me, and as I watched mesmerized, her face melded with that of the god’s. Now he did not look angry as he locked his steady eye-contact with mine. He looked on approvingly at my pleasure, for pleasure it undeniably was.

My lubricated cock was rock hard and throbbing with each downward stroke of the god’s member. It became sandwiched between us as he reached back to support my neck. I watched the curly-haired, unruly appearance of the god sharpen into focus above me while he thrust harder and deeper. His animalistic pants and grunts grew faster and more insistent; his eyelids faltered a moment – and for him, because of the pleasure I was clearly giving him – I orgasmed hands-free. He must have felt the intensity of my long-pent-up release, for he slackened his grip on my head, letting it fall back. The god/the priestess let out one final, primal yell, and collapsed on top of me in the exhaustion of a godly climax.

I blacked out in ecstasy. I’d finally let go and had a meeting of spirit and flesh in its purest, most exquisite form.

I had found where I belonged.