Joey Cloudy online

Isaiah Jones vs the Sea (A 21st Century Odyssey)

Showdown in the Castillo del Morro:

Sex and La Petite Mort: In the Age of Consenting Adults pt 1 of 2

“Why can’t I get just one fuck?

Why can’t I get just one fuck?

I guess it’s got something to do with luck

But I waited my whole life for just one…

Day after day, I get angry and I will say

That the day is in my sight

When I’ll take a bow and say goodnight”

-Violent Femmes

“Forgive me Father for I Must Sin”

-NGC

Isaiah left the word with Naomi on what to do when she got the signal once he reached Ghana. The two stayed up talking after the diner with Polly ended. The three-story mansion was made from the same stones as the Spanish fortress, it was built high above the entrance to the Havana harbor. From the exterior, the color of the building’s stonemasonry blended in perfectly with the 300-year-old existing fortress, the interior reflected the owner’s personal taste. While the exterior architecture and decor of the interior were a reproduction of the Château de Valençay. His love for all things French and decadent being influenced by Dead Eye Polly’s lifelong love of Southern Gothic authors as much as his childhood in Louisiana.

Later that evening once she was sure everyone else was asleep, restless horny unable to rest, Naomi walked barefoot down the hall to the room he was to sleep in only to find his bed empty, untouched. His clothes were lying on the chair near the dresser. Odd, she thought as she headed down the hall to see if he had stepped out onto the patio to get some air, perhaps. Cliff diving in the dark at this hour made no sense. The old negra Bruja sat la preta at her seat at the head of the table, unmoved since she had last seen her after dinner. The old woman looked at Naomi and smiled.

The Griot- she said, in a craggy aged voice, it is the boy you seek yes. she grinned slowly exhaling a pale gray plume of cigar smoke as she spoke. the boy you seek, you will find him beneath you down stairs in the gym child.

Gracia. Naomi said, and she meant it, even if the old Negra witch frightened her. The recovering little catholic girl inside of her would always be fearful of those who practiced the dark arts, such as Dead Eye Polly Ovejero’s aged aunt and personal cigar roller, the Santeria High Priestess Revereda’ Madre, Abuelita Orúnmila.

This is for my Naomi. the old woman said switching from Spanish to English with her natural Baton Rouge Creole accent. She handed her a small raw umber colored animal hide pouch tied closed with a length of twine, the bruja began pressing it into her palm holding her pale hands with both of her gnarled ebony boney old hands surprisingly strong vicelike grip.

When you see the Griot, you must both breathe the medicine together. It will show you both the true path back to go forward. The old witch squeezes her hand harder to make her point with the pain.

Do You Understand? She asks again, her dull old eyes covered with a milky grey film, she was almost completely blind. It is He who goes forward by looking back. I have been waiting for many years now. The Griot, who is the Sankofa, it is He who looks back to move forward. With nothing to hold on to but our faith for generations, we have been patient…you will never know how long have we waited; how much we have sacrificed, finally the vessel is ready…I have been blessed with enough life to see this day come -I have survived all for a very long time to see this day come. “Se wo were fi na wosankofa a yenkyi.” Soon we will see as I see, soon. “Se wo were fi na wosankofa a yenkyi!” Do You Understand?!

Yes! Naomi cried out, terrified and in pain, finally yanking back her hand as the old woman released her grip on her as soon as she replied.

Good. The old Twi speaking bruja smiled. Go now Naomi, you I see now, follow the Griot.

Isaiah was in the gym as the old witch had said, working out wearing only his black fitted boxers as he practiced his Wing Chung against the Mù Rén Zhuāng as he had done every day since he was six years old; he was sixteen now. It was a way for him to channel his energy, and he loved to count; it was the primary effect, a manifestation of his autism, it was why he was, at heart, a mathematician. He had no choice; he was born to this. While training, he loved to count his strikes. He loved the routine, the form, the examination of systems of every type, be they engineering, mathematical, or martial. He loved the order of things, the structures of nature, the power of bringing discipline to a chaotic world.

He kept the running tally in a file in the back of his strange photographic memory. The 6 feet 2-inch-tall mathematician’s dark skin was beaded with perspiration from his exertion; it was just one more piece of the puzzle. He was fit, lean, tall, and lanky. Yet, as big as he was now, it was obvious he was still growing. The sheer dark grey cotton fabric of the fitted boxers did nothing to conceal his manhood; in fact, the way the fabric stretched around it, obscenely it to her it seemed as if he had a half-liter bottle of water hidden in his drawers. It wasn’t cartoonishly large, but it always made her think of the word jawbreaker whenever she eyed his crotch.

At a certain size, there was no way, buddy. As a sexually active woman, there was a point at which she was out. Those dates ended with her leaving and blocking the number. He was at the threshold that kept her curious and just a little scared. She let her eyes linger for a moment as she felt her body responding to his of its own accord; she did nothing to stop it this time. They had been playing the game for a week now aboard his sloop as she healed, while they sailed towards Havana from the far side of the Bahamas. One would pass the other in the narrow confines of the ship’s passageways or in the galley, even while going over the maps, they kept letting their bodies’ incidental contact linger as long as possible.

Naomi oiled his scalp and braided his hair while he sat on the deck in front of her seat with her thighs almost wrapped around his shoulders, her warm crotch heating the back of his neck; all he needed to do was turn around, and she was all his. It wasn’t just her or her imagination; she could see the boy’s throbbing, uncircumcised member clearly through the thin white muslin linen drawstring trousers that he liked to wear; he could never go soft around her.

It was a boat small enough to solo sail, so she could hear it, and it felt like sometimes even feel his orgasms as he tried to relieve the pressure repeatedly daily to no avail. He grew hard as soon as he saw her again. Naomi smiled, remembering the warm feeling of his dick thick pulsing through the sheer fabric of the ivory muslin linen trousers as he pressed gently against her crimson bikini clad backside she froze as he positioned himself behind her in the narrow passages of the ship’s galley. They both stood perfectly still in silence, letting the rites and subtle rhythms of the wave’s movement do the dirty work with only the thinnest of cloths between their flesh.

She was getting wet just thinking about it. God, all I want is just one good fuck! Naomi was startled when her phone rang as she stood in the doorway watching unaware her left hand had drifted over her clit gently caressing the spot through the sheer cloth of the crimson silk and black lace dress. She only stopped to answer the phone. It was Julio calling to report that he had picked up the Lorenzo and Miranda after the pair of little devils delivered Isaiah’s boat to the pier in Havana harbor. Izzy turned to face the ringtone and smiled when he saw it was Naomi standing in the gym’s doorway.

I was hoping we could talk alone before I leave tomorrow. I need you to take the job offer and work with Señor Polly.

Isaiah, are you insane! Naomi shouted. The entire point of all of this has been to not work for him. He’s a…he is a psychopath! She said. The gunshot wound was nearly completely healed, still her side ached; she reached into her clutch and popped two of the painkillers.

I understand, but hear me out. He has legitimate businesses that need a face with no criminal record. Officially, you would be the CEO of his corporate holdings, all the legal stuff that he owns and operates. It’s like an economic marriage, minus the sex and clergy. The old-school Italian mafioso called this position the Consigliere.

Naomi looked at him, trying to figure his angle here. She sighed. That is a pretty word for thug. I would be considered his number one if I took the job, regardless of whether I did any of the dirty work. You stand next to the outhouse; you get the stink just the same. Everyone who knows the mobs in the Caribbean and South America would think I was just a mob boss’s woman.

They would all assume we were lovers as well. She said, disgusted. The man is a pederast and worse. And yet you, in your infinite wisdom, think it would be a good opportunity for me to work for this madman? For an alleged genius that has got to be the stupid fucking idea I’ve ever heard in my life, Naomi grinned, and I was raised in FLORIDA.

Here, read this. Isaiah said, handing her his phone.

She read it. Then she read it again before she looked up at him and asked. Is this real?

Yes, are you in now? He grinned.

Naomi looked at the screen of his phone again and grinned.

If you fail, they will hang you. She said solemnly.

Then I will join my heroes Thomas Sankara, John Brown, and Fred Hampton.

“It’s better to die on your feet than live on your knees.”

Yes. Naomi grinned. I’m in.

They shook hands, and Naomi said as an afterthought.

Oh, I almost forgot, she grinned, the old Bruja wanted us to sniff her medicine together. She laughed nervously.

He looked at her his expression serious.

Ok, what do we do? Isaiah asked.

We better use your room, it’s the farthest away from the rest of the bedrooms. Naomi whispered conspiratorially.

Why are we whispering? Isaiah whispered.

Because I’m pretty sure this sort of drug is the kind you whisper before you do them. She grinned.

You are hilarious. He whispered with a blank face.

They exited the gym, heading back to his room to see what the bruja had for them in the tiny animal hide pouch she had given to Naomi with instructions to consume/ to breathe/ the contents together. Naomi grabbed Isaiah by the hand, Come on, slow, slowpoke. They ran barefoot, he half a step behind her, along the twisting stone corridors until they reached the upper levels where his guest bedroom was directly across from the living room/dining room, where the old witch was still in her seat, only the back of her chair visible from this angle.

Shhhhhh… Naomi shushed him with her index finger to her lips. He wanted his lips to be her fingers as he stared at her mouth, her nose, her gun-metal gray eyes. he could feel her pulse racing still from their run down the hallway and up the winding stone stairway. He had waited all week for her to make the first move, he ate her with his eyes in the dim lights of the passageway most people in the states thought she was white, her skin was pale appearing even paler because of the darkness of her hair, there was a light scent of citrus in the heavy dark ringlets that mixed perfectly with coca butter in the sunscreen the pale skinned women rubbed into her body the light-colored grey eyes. But he saw it in the fullness of her lips, a bit in the nose, and every curve of her body, she was white, but not white white.

He had never met a woman like Naomi her figure 5 foot 11-inch-tall full curvaceous lush body of the island girl that she was, from this angle he could see her Afrocuba ancestry on full display as she bent over in front of him to peek around the corner, he pressed his thickening crotch against her buttocks as he leaned forward behind her to peek also. Naomi felt him behind her pushing the hardening flesh gently between the cheeks of her buttocks as she leaned over to see if the area was empty. He felt her acknowledge him by squeezing his hand just before they crept across the hall through the living room, disappearing into the guest room. Naomi immediately turned and closed the French doors and drew the heavy white curtains.

What is it? He asked, his heart racing with excitement and uncertainty, he was still covered in perspiration from his workout with the wooden man. He wanted to bend her over the bed the way she was in the hallway. He wondered if he should shower first. Isaiah fought back the primal urge to overpower her and throw her across the bed, hike up her dress just enough, hold her down with his palm pressing his full weight in the small of her back as he forced his way into her, but he maintained his discipline. He counted his pulse, his heart rate lowering with the ritual. He stayed in control and let her come to him.

I have no idea what it is. Naomi confessed plopping down on the bed beside him. It can’t be any better than the opiates they gave me. I’m already twisted she grinned. The pouch was half full of a white flour like powder with a shimmer to it crystalline violets to pinks in the palest hues of light. Well, I’m pretty sure we can snort it. Naomi shrugged.

We can just go out there and ask her. Isaiah suggested not really wanting to see the old witch right now. He swung his legs under his body to sit full lotus on the bed as she stood up and pulled off her dress, it was too long, and too tight; it was a Dior Chinese-style crimson silk over black lace number that was too hot to wear while getting high in this tropical heat. Naomi casually tossed the dress over his white tuxedo, lying on the chair next to the door. She didn’t have to turn around to see it; she knew he was watching her in the red bikini. She knew he liked her in again, like he had been doing all week on his sloop, whenever he thought she wasn’t looking.

Naomi didn’t mind; she was a 36-year-old former Delta Force operative, with no job or future work, sitting in a Cuban gangster’s mansion, who wanted her work for his organization as his number 1. If that wasn’t bad enough, she had been dreaming about having sex with this 16-year-old blackboy for the last week. There was none of no American interracial fetish going on with her. Naomi was Cuban, and every Cuban knows that no matter what they look like, they all have a little black in them.

She thought if Polly didn’t kill them, then Izzy would just resupply and sail away, and that would be the end of it. But now they were in business together, and somehow, she feels as if this were all her fault. The old catholic guilt was stirred whenever she was aroused.

Naomi had been staring at that cock through the thin fabric of his white muslin linen trousers since the two girls in Key West first up loaded his video with them 2 weeks ago. She saw what every other girl saw when they watched that video, the same way every girl loved David Bowie in Labyrinth.

She knew in her rational logical mind that this was her biology betraying her, at 36 her body wanted her to have a baby and was flooding her brain with “FUCK ME NOW!” hormones. Naomi wasn’t stupid; she knew exactly what she was doing. She was half naked in a young man’s room, getting ready to inhale a drug neither one knew anything about and hope for the best.

Are you ok? Isaiah asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Yeah, Naomi turned around, we good. What are we doing? she asked demurely not really wanting to know the answer.

Testing the brujas dope to see if we can find scientific evidence of our spirit animals’ existence. He grinned with a shrug.

Good. she laughed relieved as she sat down on the bed beside him in a bikini top and bottom of a girl a size smaller than she. For a minute I thought we were about to do something really stupid.

Nope, he replied, we are about to do something fucking retarded.

Naomi looked at him and smiled at that big goofy kid grin of his then she picked up a hand-held mirror from the dresser and dumped the powder onto the mirrors surface. they used his riggers knife to cut the lines then rolled up one of the 100s from the envelope for a straw.

We don’t have to do this. He said before she ran the first rail.

Izzy, look, this was going to happen with the bruja or without her. If you want me to leave, I will understand. I know I’m old enough to be your…Izzy leaned over and kissed her.

I’m in. just never say anything like that, that just makes it weird. He giggled. You’re way younger and way, way hotter than my mom. They both laughed. Me first in case it gets weird. Izzy did a line of the witches’ brew, then she did one without waiting for his report on the drug.

Is this like acid or X?

iM noT SuRE….

-but it feels sooooo good on my skin.

The effect of the Datura stramonium plant mixed with other herbs ground into the whitish powder made each the others slave; they have no secrets each was completely vulnerable to the other. Come here… noOOooo youcommeherrree. MMMmm –Get out of those shorts, mister. She pulls off the fitted boxers with her teeth, the musk of his sweaty crotch nearly made her cum.

Hmmm, yummy, a show’er and a grower…He grew hard immediately; he was 16 he was always hard as the calculous. she liked that; still she sucks his dick first to get him ready with her saliva before she got on her knees in front of him bent over with her head down her pale ass high as the moon in the night sky. Naomi felt the heat of the black boy’s muscular body stiffen behind her. Naomi needs to feel this pain.

Do you like my brown-eye? She moaned in a husky, breathless tone. Isaiah had no idea what brown eye was, he replied. Your eyes are Gray. When she finally stopped laughing, she reached back and guided the head of his erection to her anus. This is my brown eye boy. Just go slow, ok, spit in my brown eye first to get it lubed up good. I mean a lot, this thing you got is gonna need a lotta lube to get it up in there, baby boy.

Izzy expectorated into the pink center of her brown ringed sphincter. When the wet blast of warm spittle struck the bullseye the saliva splattered over the orifice, it winked at him an alien extraterrestrial blackhole with its own gravity will pulling into her at the place where the darkness eats the light, once more he puckers his lips and spits into void if the winking brown-eye hole again before hocking a thick load of spittle into the palm of his hand then rubbing it all over the hood and the full length of the shaft.

All the while Naomi writhes on her knees if front of him waiting pinching her clit with one hand her light brown nipples with the other. She reaches back for him, he lets her hand and her hips do the work, afraid that if he did what he felt at the moment, he would hurt her. It felt like she held something the size of a shoe in her hand or shopping in a nice kosher deli. She thought, Mmmm. There we go, right there.

Help me, Daddy, Push! She commanded him, looking back over her shoulder, her raven ringlets fell to the side of her face, he saw the ranger tattoo death before dishonor on her arm. She cried out in pain and screamed with pleasure as the glands of the monstrous head penetrated the tightened second circle as he descended into the labyrinthine corridor beyond the taut ring of dark flesh. Now, Izzy, she gasps, struggling to accommodate him.

I want you to fuck me in the ass as hard as you can…do your worst daddy…The contrast of her pale skin against her dark hair the strong handsome lines of her face, mercilessly now with the first beast like stroke he push as hard and as far as he could till his testicles bounced on her taint again and again, as her began to build his savage rhythm he thrust into her like a feral animal as if he were just using her body for a meat hole a fuck box to jack off inside of and they both know this truth it is mutual jargon a colloquial lexicon of human genitals and genitalia, their loins lexicon is common knowledge shared between them.

The rougher he thrust the more she moaned and the wetter her pussy got. Pull my hair, Daddy! Izzy grabbed a handful of her black mane in each hand on either side of her head. He continued to pound his pecker in and out of her rectum while he used her hair as reigns. He pulled almost all the way out on each stroke of the beefy shaft until just the tip of the head remain inside of her he would push hard at first just enough to make the glands that flared around the base of the fleshy crown to pop back into the tighten sphincter once more the pain on fire of reentry shook her body again he pulsed inside her and again he would slowly slide the full length back in the dank sheathe of her bowels until his testicles bounced off of her perineum again.

I want to see your eyes when you cum Izzy. He spun her onto her back without slipping out of her asshole as he grabbed by the ankles then shoved her knees beside her ears. Now he guided his meat missile into her by her ankles, and she was happy she could see him putting in the work. Her belly bulged obscenely, with each alien bursting thrust swelling her stomach. She had lost track of how many times she had already cum. He was pile driving into her his cadence now vicious unrelenting meat pistoning punishing her bowels for what felt like hours’ ignoring the air now escaping her trumpeting sphincter with each stroke it seemed to excite him his speed and intensity increasing with each ball bouncing stroke of his rod until he began orgasming deep inside her bowels as her pussy juice sprayed with his release.

They collapsed at the final tiny trumpet of air as he finished the last throbbing spasms of his orgasm, fading with them both giggling, before they did another line of the witch’s drug and began round two. He did the next rail of the intoxicating powder, then pushed her onto her back, spread her pale, muscular legs wide with dark, deeply callused hands before he kneeled between them as if in prayer, whispering into the dark forest leading to the temple between her thighs.

“I wanna fuck you like an animal

I wanna feel you from the inside

I wanna fuck you like an animal

My whole existence is flawed

You get me closer to God”

They woke up late the next afternoon, limbs entangled in bed together, both naked.

Did we…? He croaked as he groggily looked around the room, slowly regaining consciousness, squinting his eyes at the diffused light that filtered in through the drawn heavy white curtains.

Naomi lay beside him nude also. The woman could definitely tell she’d had sex last night. If he didn’t remember, she was not going to say anything.

I think we were both too fucked up to hook up. Naomi counseled, sounding quite earnest and sincere. We were both trashed, we probably just stripped to cool off. It was a lie, but it sounded like it might be true. He seemed happy to hear it, so Naomi climbed out of bed and padded across the room, still undressed, to get a shower.

Her vulva was bruised and the lining of her vagina felt raw she could feel his seed dripping out of her sliding down the inside of her right thigh as she walked even her feet felt oddly tender and sticky too as she headed to el baño and she was certain that was his semen stuck between her ass cheeks starting to dribble from inside of her well tenderized asshole.

What the hell did he fuck her with? Her jaw ached, her was throat, her asshole tender and dripping semen, her twat felt wrecked beaten and raw, she was sore in every orifice except her ears nose and eye sockets? Izzy had put it pretty much everywhere else. Naomi felt fucking alive! God how she loved the feeling of being freshly proper fucked, the morning after getting rode hard and put up wet it was just the best. The morning after was almost as nice as the night before. She wished she could remember more than the flashes, little bits of a dream, but what little pieces she did recall were glorious. She showered quickly, hoping to get out of here before Polly found them.

Their clothes had been laundered while they slept and returned to the room and were now hanging on the hook on the door.

Their host the albino Dead Eye Polly was already gone, but his witch queen was still sitting in the same spot at the head of the big table a glass of rum in one and a half smoke Havana in the other; swathed in the finest silk chiffon fabrics bathe in the shaft of sunlight entering the great arch of the Spanish villas window, her silverer braids wrapped perfectly as the cigars she rolled, her perfect ivory teeth shining in the shadows as the bruja high priestess smiled.

“… What if God was one of us?

Just a slob like one of us

Just a stranger on the bus

Tryin’ to make his way home?

… Just tryin’ to make his way home

Like a holy rolling stone?

Back up to heaven all alone

Just tryin’ to make his way home

… Nobody callin’ on the phone

‘Cept for the Pope maybe in Rome”

-Joan Ozborne

[Notes] [What is the legal dating age in Cuba?

16 Cuba. The age of consent in Cuba is 16.]

Texas [In some cases, a minor can ask the court to be recognized as an adult. This process is called “emancipation,” “emancipation of minors,” or “removal of the disabilities of minority.”

Emancipated minors no longer need a parent’s permission to do certain things like:

enter into contracts;

rent an apartment;

open a bank account;

enroll in school;

make medical decisions;

make other legal decisions that could previously only be made by a parent. To apply for emancipation, the minor must be:

a Texas resident;

17 years old;

16 years old and living separately from the parents;

self-supporting and managing their own affairs.

The court will review the application, examine evidence, and hold a hearing to determine if emancipation is in the best interest of the minor.

Texas Law

Texas Family Code, Chapter 31

This statute discusses the removal of the disabilities of minority, which is commonly referred to as becoming an emancipated minor.]

[Consigliere: A counselor and adviser to the boss. The consigliere is a trusted friend and confidant, usually the Number 3 man in the family.]

[Abuelita Orúnmila also uses her knowledge of herbs and plants to craft potions and poisons Plant Note:

Datura stramonium (commonly known as Jimsonweed or Devil’s Snare)

Description: This plant is known for its white trumpet-shaped flowers and spiky seed pods. It is native to the Americas and contains tropane alkaloids that can have hallucinogenic effects. In low doses, it induces a state of disorientation and compliance, often used in traditional medicine and as a tool in various mystical practices. While not lethal at low doses, it can cause significant memory gaps and hangover-like symptoms.

Usage in the Novel: Abuelita Orúnmila utilizes the properties of Datura stramonium in the cigars she rolls, subtly influencing the minds of those who smoke them. The drug’s effects make the victims more pliable and suggestible, facilitating manipulation and control. The use of this plant reflects her deep-rooted knowledge of both mystical and practical applications of her craft.]

[Mu ren zhuang (Chinese: 木人桩; pinyin: Mù Rén Zhuāng; lit. ‘Wooden Man Post’) or Mook Yan Jong (also known as The Wing-Chun Dummy or simply The Wooden Dummy internationally), is a training tool used in various styles of Chinese martial arts, most notably that of Wing Chun and other kung fu styles of Southern China. Traditionally made from wood, the dummies are now also made from synthetic materials such as steel [1] and plastic.[2]]

Sankofa (pronounced SAHN-koh-fah) is a word in the Twi language of Ghana meaning “to retrieve” (literally “go back and get”; san – to return; ko – to go; fa – to fetch, to seek and take) and also refers to the Bono Adinkra symbol represented either with a stylized heart shape or by a bird with its head turned backwards while its feet face forward carrying a precious egg in its mouth. Sankofa is often associated with the proverb,

“Se wo were fi na wosankofa a yenkyi,”

which translates as: “It is not wrong to go back for that which you have forgotten.”[1][2]

The Sankofa bird appears frequently in traditional Akan art, and has also been adopted as an important symbol in an African-American and African Diaspora context to represent the need to reflect on the past to build a successful future. It is one of the most widely dispersed adinkra symbols, appearing in modern jewelry, tattoos, and clothing.

Akan symbolism[edit]

Akan gold weight Sankofa

The Sankofa bird also appears on carved wooden Akan stools,[3] in Akan gold weights, on some ruler’s state umbrella or parasol (ntuatire) finials and on the staff finials of some court linguists.[4] It functions to foster mutual respect and unity in tradition.[5]

Emiliano Zapata Salazar (Spanish pronunciation: [emiˈljano saˈpata]; August 8, 1879 – April 10, 1919) was a Mexican revolutionary. He was a leading figure in the Mexican Revolution of 1910–1920, the main leader of the people’s revolution in the Mexican state of Morelos, and the inspiration of the agrarian movement called Zapatismo.

-about the author:

JD Cloudy’s poetry has disappeared in the literary journals; Fatfizz, Mad Swirl, Texas Beat Anthology, Danse Macabre, Du Jour, and Death List Five. He has won no literary awards, entered no slam competitions, and never completed college. He lives to write in Dallas, Tx.