Cabin POWER #02: Ass Pilgrims

Demigod (noun) /ˈdɛmɪˌɡɒd/ or /ˈdɛmɪˌɡɑːd/

1. A mythological being who is partly divine and partly human; often the offspring of a god and a mortal, or a lesser deity with powers greater than a mortal but less than a full god.

2. A person who is so exceptionally talented, admired, or powerful as to seem almost divine or superhuman.

1. What is a Demigod?

Mel and Kani look at Jan expectantly from the passenger side of the U-Haul, both their mouths twisted in jest, eyes unblinking.

Kani asks, what does it mean Jan, what is a demigod?

Fine, Jan sighs, I don't actually know.

Kani slaps the dashboard with Mel and laughs. If you can't define it you can't play it, hon.

Jan tries negotiating a draw, doubling back again and again up narrow logging roads, the U-Haul occupying the entire width of the smooth gravel.

Jan is twenty five, five foot three and one hundred forty pounds with short, tight curly brown hair and hand tattoos from her teenage years. She hates this guessing game, she hates all games.

I never win at games. I'll go bowling and play like, twenty questions in the U-Haul with them but its only because I don't get embarrassed since they're super supportive. I just hate losing at like monopoly. Anyway though they're helping me get out of my rut so its fine. I was such a shut-in back in Indiana! These two taught me how to like, really enjoy sharing a guy's cock. Before it was like I can take it or leave it when it comes to men. And life, really.

She watches the road from behind the wheel, the Spring sun glittering down through towering red sequoias.

--

Kani is the elder of the group at forty-two years. A hundred pounds with a super-petite frame, her face is an almost ageless, pale little olive framed in shining black braided curls.

It's the olive oil, she says of her looks. I drink it, I rub it all over my body. I use it as lube to fuck, too. I'm open about that kind of thing, I'm greek! she laughs. If everyone just quit smoking and wine and liquor and coke and Molly, they'd stay young too if they just took their olive oil.

Mel is thirty years, five-ten, a former college volleyball player with toned, rounded shoulders and wide thighs. Her white-blonde hair is close cropped, her sweeping athletic skin is deeply tanned and her small eyes are very dark indigo.

I could fit two of you on my lap, she jokes with Kani from behind her glasses, as she jokes with any petite woman she cuddles.

I grew up in Hawaii so I'm comfortable not wearing a lot of clothes, she often tells people as she strips publicly. Oh and I'm the only one who dates guys, these two only fuck them.

--

Kani unbuckles and lets inertia move her from the center seat of the crew cab to the passenger side. Hello there! She and Mel laugh as Kani jumps onto her lap.

In the corner of her eye Jan sees Mel sliding her hands down Kani's sweat pants to rub her thighs down to the knees, licking from the bottom of her neck up to her ear lobe, running her hands up and down.

Moisture comes inside of Jan at the sounds of their fondling and kissing and she remembers the last foursome episode. Mel and Kani looked so good that night riding the guy cowgirl, and when it was her turn, she got it from him doggy while Kani licked her asshole at exactly the right time and Mel kissed up her back. She orgasmed like a thunder clap and came all over his cock.

That was at the beginning of the road trip, before the desert. Mel was on the guy's lap, his cock fully inside as she giggled and craned her neck around and rubbed her nose on his: oh yeah I think that's a pretty good fit right baby? and he agreed. Jan focuses on the road but keeps seeing it all in her minds eye, remembering Kani undress and run her fingers through the guy's hair.

These three will meet a guy they like and Mel will say something ambiguous about a tight fit to him like, do you want to see how we fit together?

Yes, the man says, if he has any sense, and as fast as she can she pulls out the guy's cock and throats it down to his balls, looking straight up at him while Jan and Kani ignore it and talk, shielding him and Mel from view if they are in public.

Just as quickly as its in her mouth, Mel will jump back off of it, then pull her jean shorts down enough to show her shaved pussy and asshole to him, putting her round ass right in his face if he's sitting down and then dropping it, stuffing the guy's pole up her fig in one plunge.

Hell yeah get it girl; love that for you Mel, giggle Kani and Jan, watching and eventually joining when the setting's right.

--

Jan parks the U-Haul at the edge of an outcrop along the gravel turnoff. The trailer's side faces a scenic viewpoint, the green pine-tops spanning out for miles under the morning sun up to some great snow-capped mountain.

Mel and Kani jump out of the passenger side and strip in the sunshine. They're popping their nude asses up in the air and standing on their bare toes, feeling the mountain air, their hands against the trailer. They move their naked hips together slowly and their cheeks shake gently, Kani's slim and petite hips rubbing against Mel's wide, tan ass.

Behind them now, Jan drops her black shorts and squats down to finger herself, watching them twerk for her and for that great mountain towering behind her. She pulls off her worn out black tank top and crawls toward them nude on the flat, fine gravel wearing only her collar, ass up like a dog, as if the mountain itself might mount her.

She strokes her face across those four ass cheeks from left to right and back. Mel and Kani jump a little each time her nose goes over an asshole: she's pressing it in hard, to the point where they think it might suddenly poke inside.

Jan's stuck-out tongue moves over the top of their wet boxes, her lips carefully, slightly pushed out like someone kissing the last bit of strawberry ice cream from the top of a tiny sugar cone.

--

An eagle circles at the foot of the mountain, sees the moving bodies on the cliff at the other side of the gorge: they are bending their bottom halves up in simple mating gestures. It soars toward them over the tops of the redwood sequoias.

Bitch, kiss that bush! Kani screams and they all hear the shrill call of the eagle under that vast blue sky, first overhead then echoing off the slopes of the mountain.

2. Half-Blind Herm and the Dick Shoulder Surprise

Under late afternoon sun they reach Manaustown, an old mining settlement in the heart of the national forest. It's a time capsule who's signs claim it's where the roads end. They stop and look at Wikipedia. Girl Manaustown used to be big. Used to have an opera house. Only like one hundred people are allowed to live here, federal law!

At the edge of town they U-turn, park in front of The Flapjack Teepee, a little place with the totem poles old, rusting logging gear setup as decoration out front.

A tiny bell chimes when opening the heavy door, the thick paned glass windows are heavily curtained and block out most of the sun.

Two older men in a far booth leer at Kani and Mel, shaping their mouths as if to whistle. Kani ignores them and looks at the pie case, Mel approaches and introduces herself to the one with the eyepatch.

I'm Mel.

Half Blind Herm they call me. This here's my friend Mute Mikey. What's your quest, baby?

I don't know what you mean.

Mel nuzzles up next to him in the booth and asks, how do you think we'd fit together, Herm?

What?

I'll put out right now, but I'm taking your other eye, okay?

How about you suck on my fuckin' joint and I'll tell you how I lost the first one?

Hmm. Will you just tell me?

Fine. You see I'm ready for a knife, baby; a bat. I'm normally ready--you know what I mean--to scrap. But this rural motherfucker, man. Inside the room he's helpless, but out in the open? He has that falcon. You can laugh. My one-eyed ass ain't come out from the teepee in the daytime in five years.

Who? Mel giggles, who has that falcon, Herm?

The tiny bell on the heavy door rings and sunlight light floods into the Flapjack Teepee. Herm snorts and laughs, breaks his one-eyed eye contact with Mel. He asks from across the place as the door closes and glowing darkness resumes.

Who is you, a ninja turtle?

A what?

Is you Donatello? Donatella?

My name is Jan. What's your name?

Half Blind Herm they call me. This here's my friend Mute Mikey. What's your quest, baby?

Right now like a, kinky Lynchian magical realism, with my women.

Sounds like you my kinda woman, Jan.

Sounds like the Flapjack Teepee is my kinda hotcake house, Herm.

Mel feels Herm's old penis grow under his slacks as they all laugh at Jan's quick and artful language.

A small, at least 70 year old women in a waitress uniform waddles out from the shadows of the back kitchen, holding menus and waters. Welcome to the flapjack tepee girls. Her growling voice slowly putters, then fades.

She drops a menu seeing Mel and Herm cuddling in the booth; she sways like a standing bear fixated on another standing bear and with power, she roars, hands off my Herm!

Oh shit, Kani laughs and slips into her native language, muttering Po po, arkouda.

Mel gasps and lightly slaps him, Herm! then she runs fearlessly to the waitress with hands joined in begging. I'm so sorry ma'am!

He started it! Kani recommends.

Damn! Keep it on the low, Herm, Jan teases as she walks toward Mel and the waitress.

I'm sure he did start it, the waitress growls, taking Mel's apology and Kani's interjection while accosting Herm, I'll deal with you; her voice like an old car engine. Herm's eye looks into his black coffee.

The waitress turns to them deadpan. Time for flapjacks, ladies?

Ninja Turtle, never heard that one.

You're so hot Jan.

--

They all three burst out laughing like children the moment they are seated in the little video poker alcove, far from away from Herm.

The waitress is walking away, shaking her head. Kani is on the carpeted floor, pounding the ground with her fist, covering her eyes with her other hand while Jan and Mel sob with laughter in each other's arms, unable to look up.

Their table, one of three squeezed in with the video poker machines, has a direct sightline on a black and white photo of their waitress as a young, maybe twenty year old woman, framed in carved wood.

She is sitting at a breakfast table in her waitress uniform, pouring syrup onto a tall stack of flapjacks. She is looking straight at the camera, delighted and surprised.

At the shoulder opposite her syrup pouring arm, a logger is standing over her with a look of real amazement on his own face as he looks into the camera.

His half-swollen dong is out of his dark denim, flopped with his nuts onto her shoulder near where her apron wraps around her neck, on top of her red checkered blouse--the logger's cock rests there like a snake in a bird's nest, the waitress's mouth in a gaping smile just inches away from it.

--

Fifteen minutes later they've calmed down. The old waitress drops three orders of flapjacks down perfectly in one movement, plus an eight-flavor carousal of multicolored syrups, scowling at them.

Enjoy.

Damn you're strong mama, Kani says and they all laugh and soon Kani soon gets carried away as her blood sugar spikes. American food is so good but it gives you a hangover, she always says. So much sugar, I lose my mind!

Mama, she laughs, I just need to know what's up with the flapjack dick-shoulder surprise! She yells it several times, laughing more and more hysterically, her mouth full of pancake and strawberries.

Hey what is the dick-shoulder about, arkouda? I know that ain't you Herm!

The old waitress pounds the counter next to the pie display case in the dining area and stomps to the alcove. I got pink eye after I did that scene, she snarls, pulling down her glasses and looming over Kani, pointing with her mauve press-on nail at a misshapen part of the blue-green pupil. Scarred my eyeball for life!

Damn arkouda don't stand so close while I'm eating, please!

As Kani speaks it, she feels it: plop, right on her shoulder. How long had he been standing behind her? She can smell his balls and feel them pressed on her scapula. She'd not heard him approach or unzip, but there his heavy manhood rests, on the fabric of her heather-grey hoody, his swollen snake flexing with his breath and heartbeat, hanging down past her clavicle. Could this be the same hung logger from the photo? Will I meet him when I turn around?

She snaps awake, her head against the passenger window as the shadowed redwoods meander past at dusk. Almost there, Mel whoops as she drives up the bumpy, winding gravel road flanked by darkening silhouettes of undergrowth and glowing dots of purple-red sky.

3. Terra's Lamp

It will be another two hours before they arrive at the cabin, by then in primeval night, their headlights the only illumination around for miles.

At 11:08pm, low green and white light from the dashboard illuminates the soft outlines of Jan's round asscheeks and her little rolls of back-flab. Kani licks up and down her pussy and asshole from behind, hands gripping ass cheeks on the passenger side. Jan whines and giggles, her head resting on Mel's lap as she drives through the dark wood.

Mel reaches to the radio and turns off Coast to Coast AM as Kani's tougue dances up and down on Jan's privates.

Herm had a giant cock, she says and Kani blows a raspberry on Jan's asshole as they all crack up laughing. Jan gently bites Mel's thigh.

Of course he did he was so charismatic, Kani's voice is muffled, buried in Jan's asscheeks.

--

The doors of the U-Haul open and thud closed, midnight katydids and crickets sing in the pitch dark redwood forest.

An unseen male lynx perched high in a tall sequoia watches the three women jump from the cabin of the U-haul onto the dusty gravel. It is fascinated by the beam of brightness coming from Jan's flashlight.

Smelling their fragrances and hormones, it retreats, slowly. It feels something akin to intrigue bubbling up underneath its survival instinct.

--

Invisible is the great log cabin in the blackness until a rectangle, a second story window fills in white with a match-strike. Oil lamp light flickers fill the lower floor of the cabin and a side door unlatches.

Kani! Terra laughs under the flame, holding her lamp up and away like a statue of liberty while embracing Kani tightly with her free arm.

Kani's head rests between Terra's small breasts, her arms around her waist. The two talk in a mix of Greek and Turkish before turning to Jan and Mel. This is my third cousin.

She is so beautiful in the night, the whites of her eyes, the flame-lit contours of her fine face and neck, her apricot breasts and her thick waist and legs.

Soon the oil lamp is set down on the gravel and the four women are embracing on the side of the cabin, touching their breasts and faces together over the light of that small, flickering lamp, and from a far distance the lynx smells them.

Your room is ready, Terra says picking a hair from Mel's sweater. Set you up in a back-hallway bedroom.

She pushes open the creaking side door at the threshold and turns back, burning lamp in hand, loose white cotton tee hanging to nearly expose one shoulder.

And then she whispers the answer to the question the women held inside the whole trip: he will arrive tomorrow in the early morning, to tend your gardens.

To be continued...

Bonus: Desert Prelude

That day in June had finally come, they jumped in the U-Haul going west.

After four days, running out of fuel, they stopped in an Arizona desert, their guide handing them little button-sized fruits. They spent the afternoon sick in the U-Haul with him as those fruits, the goddesses in the fruits, opened up inside them.

By dusk the three women's egos had merged with those goddesses and they played nude under the spinning milky way, their bare feet scampering away from black scorpions along a flat highway.

Their guide, they saw him expand like a cloud over the sky, his silhouette dancing gigantic, dampening the light of the star-blanketed horizon. First he's standing on one foot, then on the other foot, his matted hair waving across the sky in a bouquet of cosmic shadows.

He plays some eternal musical instrument as the three women interlock in a cosmic daisy chain, consuming and being consumed by each other, licking and sucking fearlessly on the desert sand.

--

Postulants in an ancient religion of rebirth, they leave the desert on what feels like a deep mission somehow despite evident absurdity: driving in silence, often nude in the U-Haul, mindlessly massaging, fondling themselves and each other as they shake-off the last of that ancient medicine.

Day five: and in the high deserts they cover-up like three scorned Eves, even Mel wanting a heavy blanket. They play word games in the U-Haul with drooped faces, the medicine goddess leaving their minds as giant white mountains bulge and pop out from the horizon like baby gods crowning out of titanic birth canals in the earth.

Redwoods, Jan announces as the biome of scrub and brush and wide blue sky slowly succumbs to one of swelling ferns, fallen undergrowth and towering trees. Soon the road becomes gravel, shadowed under evergreen canopies.