If On a Summer’s Day a Prostitute by Moctezuma Johnson | Work in Progress

Chapter 3

I was in her pussy. She was sitting on top of me and grinding so hard that my hips were hyper extending. I was sucking on her tits and she was grinding on top of me. Her nipples were hard little darts in my mouth, scratching my tongue and the roof of my mouth. They were sour as rhubarb dipped in vinegar. She wore a headband. Black war paint darkened under her eyes. 

Black war paint? I thought they were in the Japanese garden and…how many beauty marks did she have under her armpit?

Continued from Previous

Click the Image for FULL CREDITS

While confused the love makers were still going at it hard. She was moaning and riding him, her war paint starting to streak. He lifted her arms up, thanks to the reader’s curiosity, and she growled. With the black war paint she was positively scary looking while growling. Her arms were up and–what? No beauty mark. He panned out and they weren’t even in a Japanese garden. They were in a sandy desert, high up on the final level of a mountainous step-pyramid, on an altar smeared with blood. He was wearing jaguar skin as he fucked her pussy hard holding her arms up and biting down on her nipples until he tasted blood.

She would be dead soon anyway, sacrificed to the blood-thirsty gods. So why not bite down on that nipple and taste her blood? 

This isn’t the right book. I think the tourist getting the guest house mom naked outdoors in the Japanese garden was so hot this kindle may have melted. Come to think of it I saw smoke. I thought it was just the author giving me that sensation. I sniffed deliberately and sure enough there was the smell of smoke in the air. 

My kindle was on fire. That’s the great smutpunk writing of Moctezuma Johnson. It can just set a kindle on fire. 

I was really frustrated. I was enjoying this Japanese MILF book. I was enjoying the minimalist sentences. The acutely high-powered attention to every last detail. He painted a picture like a Japanese scroll painting and I was rolling along in it, like a drop of water in the bubbling fountain in the koi pond. Suddenly I was yanked out of it and thrown onto the top of a step pyramid in the hostile pre-forest climate of meso-america. 

My kindle was short-circuiting, giving me the wrong book. I wanted to read the book I was enjoying. And I wanted my kindle to work right. I had paid a lot of money for this kindle.

Getting on my account I contacted “Maria” from amazon customer support. She assured me by chat support that she could reset my kindle. This happens all the time, Maria said. Sometimes they even revert. They’ll move in time. Nobody knows why. Not even the engineers.

Give it five minutes and it should be fine.

I went outside for a smoke. I had a little patio that looked down on the street. I could see out to my neighbor’s rooftop and a woman was there sunbathing. Her bikini was white. Her skin was golden brown, like French Fries done right. Her eyelashes were so long I could see them from here. I don’t mean like one fan. I mean I could make out each individual lash. Her round amazing breasts were tucked in a bikini so small it could have been more accurately called a pastie. She had a compact little body with slight shoulders yet very full breasts. She was gorgeous. Her tits were bursting out of that little top. I stared at her until I squashed out the smoke and went back inside.

The kindle flashed back on and If on a Summer’s Day a Prostitute opened back up to chapter 3

Japanese garden

He watched her moist inner lips moist with his seed, then an image superimposed with that one, like the letters were dissolving as one scene faded out a new one faded in. The kindle reset. The whole thing gone…was it off?

I reset the kindle by holding the power button. When it came back on it was describing her incredible breasts as the rays of the sun bounced off of them until the tall Ceiba tree blocked the warm light. 

Chapter 4

437 A.D. MesoAmerica (in what would later be called Guatemala). 

Great Jaguar Paw was in the pit surrounded in smoke. It had to be the hottest day of the year. It was humid too. Mist from the heavens hung on the Earth like moss from a tree. Great Jaguar Paw was naked. He was in a pit. He was surrounded by smoke. Birds chirped. Some were slow and melodic. Others chirped fast and angrily. A woodpecker pecked nearby. Great Jaguar Paw wanted to fidget, to get up out of the pit, to fall into his bed and lay there comfortably, but he new the entire city of Tikal rested on his willpower to stay in that cursed pit. The heat was horrible. The mothers could probably pound some corn into tortillas and cut meat from Great Jaguar Paw’s kingly limbs. He felt so hot. His limbs were cooking under the sun and the little oven he was sitting in waiting for his vision. Rope pierced through his tongue had blood trickling down into an incense censer. Smoke mixed with his burning blood, copal, and guano rose out and filled his nostrils. He was too hot. His brain was fading into brown. Colors were beginning to swirl in his peripheral vision. He looked up to the sky, but it was masked in haze. In the haze he saw clear patterns swirling. 

Then a naked woman in white appeared right at the foot of the chamber floor in which Great Jaguar Paw remained barely conscious and in a hot pit. He looked up at her. She was beautiful. She was an older woman with long black hair and a beautiful lanky body. Her hair hung down past her waist. It was like her hair was magical. It rolled in and out of the mist as Great Jaguar Paw tried to understand what he was looking at. 

She looked at him. Her eyes were pitch black. She bared her teeth, and crouched down. She crept towards him, slowly. She was stalking him. She growled like she was a rabid jaguar. The tattoos that swirled around her calves were moving. They were writhing serpents. Great Jaguar Paw tried to scream but nothing came out of his mouth. He was too tired. He wasn’t even sure if he was awake or dreaming. 

Another figure emerged from the mist. 


“Vucub-Came,” the figure answered. He had a staff and pointed it at the naked woman. She scattered away. 

“Thank you,” mumbled Great Jaguar Paw incoherently. “She was eating me.”

“Now is the time, King. It has been written in Xibalba, you have been chosen to…”

The mist encompassed the whole scene. Great Jaguar Paw, God of Death Vucub-Came, and the Woman with Slithering Tattoos all faded away to white.

“Hey,” I said into the air. “Not again! What the fuck is with this thing?” I looked down at my kindle and it had a frozen white screen. I swiped. I pressed the on off button. I pressed the home button. Nothing. 

Again I found myself in that little Amazon chat box. I couldn’t handle this by chat. Scrolling down I found you could ask Amazon to call you. I typed in my number and wondered how long this would take, if it would even fucking work. My cell started to ring. It was Amazon. A woman with a sweet voice named Swena helped me. I pined momentarily for Maria. I have no idea why. Maybe I just wanted to hear her voice. I always wonder what people sound like when I only know them through chat. Swena was incredibly nice. She said that when they reset them from the grand comptroller it doesn’t always take all the way. What were you reading, she asked. I told her how I was first reading a very seductive story by Mictezuma Jihnson about a traveler staying in a Japanese house getting it on with the sexy mother of the family while in a picturesque Japanese garden. That story was so hot. I mean ‘erotica’ hot, I said in a whisper, like ‘erotica’ was a bad word. 

“Oh,” Swena said. “I like…,” she whispered, “‘erotica.’ Perhaps I should read it. What was the title?”

“Well, that’s just it,” I said. “I’m not sure. The kindle heated up and started smoking. Suddenly the book shifted. I was no longer in the Japanese garden. I was in the desert. On a step pyramid. She was no longer a sultry Japanese woman, but a growling Mayan goddess or something. That’s why I contacted customer support. Is that a different book? Is that a Mictezuma Jihnson book or is that a different book by a different author?”

“That sounds pretty scary,” said Swena commiserating with my fear and frustration.

“It was. Thankfully Maria set it straight,” I said. “Well, so I thought.”


“Yes, the name of the woman from chat customer service.”

“And you trust this ‘Maria’?” Swena asked. 

“Yes, of course.”

“Do you always trust people you’ve never met in the flesh. How can you be so sure ‘Maria’ was on your side. How do you know she wasn’t a paid spy by a competing author to pull you out of the world of Mictezuma Jihnson and into the world of this rival?”

“Well, she reset my kindle, so…”

“…She did, did she? Did you enjoy it?” She eyed be and I involuntarily shifted. She was not ashamed that she didn’t trust me. She left the discomfort hang in the air and I felt like I had to undo it before it tormented me.

“Well, I wanted to.” I said. “I got involved in the new story. No more reading about Japan. Now I was in a pit in the chamber on top of a step-pyramid. I was reading about a king in the middle of a temezcal vision quest.”

“That doesn’t sound like your typical erotica fare.”

“No it wasn’t. I don’t even think it was erotica, even though it was supposed to be the same book.”

“According to ‘Maria’?”

“Yes.” Then I added co-conspiratorially, “Who maybe I shouldn’t have trusted.”

“No. You shouldn’t have. But this vision quest sounds interesting.”

“It was. A naked woman in white was stalking the King in the Vision Quest pit like he was her pray. He was as good as dead until an old Mayan God of Death rescued him. The god was explaining that the underworld had told him that he was an important part of a cosmic plan. That he needed to….”

“…to what?” Swena wanted to know badly. She needed to know. She was yearning to know, desperately. 

“I don’t know,” I admitted. 

“It started smoking again?”

“Not this time. It faded to white. The scene was taking place on a hot, humid, smoky day. It was like the kindle got overwhelmed by the haze. It’s frozen with a white screen right now. That’s why I called.”

“Why didn’t you call ‘Maria’?” 

“I don’t even know Maria.”

“True.” I heard her typing fast on the keyboard. “Try it now.”

I looked at the kindle and it was no longer a white screen. It was all black.

“It’s all black.”

“Good,” Swena said. “Wait a few minutes and then turn it back on and you should be all set. All your old info should be saved.”

“So will it go to the story in Japan or the story on the pyramid.”

“It will go to the story you intended to read.”

“Which one was that?”

“It knows. These algorithms know exactly what you need.”

“Hmmn.” The conversation was winding down. I was going to miss Swena. 

“Is there anything else I can help you with, Sir?”

“No I think that’s it.”

“Would you mind if I looked into your kindle account to see what you were reading. It’s a little unprofessional without your permission.”

“Go right ahead.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Thank you for your help, Swena. If only…nevermind.”

“Yes, if only.”

I hung up and walked outside. I remember the sunbather and looked out where she should be sunbathing. There was an empty tom collins glass with a straw, but the sexy woman in the bikini was gone. Then she came out with a kindle in her hand, shaking it. She slapped it. She looked quite annoyed. She must have felt me watching her because she looked up and then closed her arms around her massive breasts barely held in by that skimpy white bikini, looked right up at me, and walked back indoors. 

I couldn’t believe it. I wonder if she was reading the same thing that I was reading. It looked to me like she had the same problem.

Read Previous Installments of this Work in Progress


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.