Mojo Meets Hendrix
The house stood across the road from a huge maroon magenta boulder shaped like the head of a buffalo, minus one horn. Crimson ristras hung from viga roof beams, along with what was obviously tall upside down marijuana plants. An outhouse with a half moon carved in the door stood in the distance. Prickly pear with ripening fruit took the place of a manicured lawn. The house was quiet, so Jeanie led Nicky around back. An irrigation ditch separated the sloping hill from the damned stream at the beginning of the canyon. A small log bridge spanned the ditch and a tall chicken wire fence kept out most of the rabbits and marauding raccoons. Mojo was soaking in a big lion footed bathtub, her sleek black body contrasting with the pale whiteness of the tub. Buffalo sat strumming his instrument and writing in a spiral notebook, working on a new song. Corncob was arguing with Mojo.
“I tell you I met Hendrix once,” she exclaimed. “You’re full of shit. The closest you ever came to Jimi Hendrix was shoplifting Electric Lady Land from Kmart.” “I’m telling you, I was his foxy lady.” “In your dreams, Mojo,” the dude called Corncob, replied. Nicky enjoyed their banter. The black lady looked like an ebony warrior, completely uninhibited by her nakedness. “Do you mind if I draw you,” he asked.
“Be my guest. Buffalo said you were very talented, but I’d like to find out for myself,” she winked at him flirtatiously. Corncob sent up little clouds of smoke. Buffalo broke out the scotch and built a fire inside a ring of rocks. “We’re having meat tonight and plenty of it. Remember when the Indians used to stampede the buffalo over a cliff? We won’t have that much meat, but no one will walk away hungry,” he proclaimed. An asshole up the mountain hadn’t paid him for several loads of firewood and to make matters worse, laughed in his face when he tried to collect. “I waited for a few weeks, to let this guy get square with me, but he had no intention of settling his bill. So I took my amigos deer rifle and blasted one of his prime corn fed steers. We butchered the carcass and put it in a freezer, down the canyon. I think its best if we eat the evidence tonight, then there is not much the authorities can do about it.” They spitted, grilled, and pit barbequed more meat, than Nicky had ever seen. Laying chilies and garlic cloves among the steaks, the aroma was mouth watering. Neighbors from all up and down the canyon came, bringing wine and weed. They sang and ate and fell in love and fell out of love. Jeanie and Nicky went back to her house for a siesta of romance. When they returned, she had her guitar and he brought his sketch pad. Nicky drew Mojo sitting in a silk kimono robe, openly revealing herself as she toked on a bong, the smoke enveloping her Afro style hair. Mojo had a massive amount of pubic hair, her bush looked like one of those that attacked and killed werewolves in the deepest darkest jungle. Buffalo made a joke about her gorilla looking snatch. “If you flashed that motherfucker in the zoo, there would damn sure be an escape.”
“You know you’re always begging for more,” she grinned. They all ate and drank and smoked weed and fucked and ate more. Nicky danced to the mountain home grown music. The stars came out and chased each other across the galaxy. Guitars and voices called down the angels. Finally they all went skinny dipping and there was a lot of grabassing and horse play.
Nicky didn’t remember how the night ended, but he awoke nuzzling his face between two chocolate peaks. Mojo’s delicious titties were like two towering Hershey kisses, he sucked each nipple, smacking his lips. Then decided she needed an African queen motorboat fuck between those gigantic black hooters. Nicky worked his hard dick up between her tits, resting his nuts on her soft stomach. He was rubbing, as Mojo’s cat like tongue flicked out like a snake and massaged the delicate head of his pride and joy. Nicky reached behind him for her clitoris, it was standing up and waiting for attention. They switched ends and went into a fast and furious sixty nine routine. That lasted a short while, until Mojo whispered, “ I need you now, white boy, right now, right fucking now.” Nicky kept up and stayed aboard, which was a miracle. When they stopped, Mojo seemed like she was in a trance.
When they finished they snuggled together and looked around. Jeanie was mounted on Corncob, fucking like there was no tomorrow, her head thrown back weaving from side to side, as he thrust up into her. Buffalo was pumping Cindy, a banjo player from behind, doggie style, while he ate the pussy of another lady. They were quite acrobatic in their ballet of sex. What an orgy. The party finally ended, Mojo and Corncob had to return to Albuquerque. Jeanie had to get home to see about the store. She invited Nicky along, but Buffalo insisted he hang out with him. He said they could catch up with Jeanie later.
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