Doctors Without Boundaries

The first thing that he saw was a naked woman in a coffin. Her pubes were bunched and black. The second most obvious thing was her missing head. It was actually simply cleverly leaning back and covered with a red paper. Next to the coffin was a box with a woman's head looking outside and muttering "Where is my body?" A candle next to the head and coffin barely lit up the scene.

The two women under Jarrik turned around 180 degrees. A naked woman was covered in little snakes. The snakes crawled around her thighs and torso. One snake was even in her hair. Her areolas were dark brown. Her hips were full. She poked her hand holding a chicken towards Jarrik hissing "voodoo." A second woman in the background made sure to keep the snakes in check.

The two women under Jarrik that formed his carriage turned again to kneel their way to the back exit. The light at the door promised the end of the ride a little two soon. Three yards from the exit, three naked savage women jumped out of the dark with machetes and started dancing around them. Their bodies were painted white. "We are the ghosts and will keep you. The two women under Jarrik stopped. Jarrik tacitly tried squeezing the right one's boob to no effect. The naked thighs danced around them. Their sexes smelled a bit musk without even getting close. Jarrik resigned to watching the boobs swing left and right in front of his face. In a way, it was sexy to sit on two half naked women and having three others dance around him.

Finally, the ghost women withdrew. Jarrik could start his female carriage by squeezing the now familiar boob again. Kyden welcomed Jarrik to the sunlight laughing: "You should have seen your face with those ghost women!" The next group of theme park visitors was waiting on the other side of the cabin. The commanders talked seriously about the attributes of the Indiana Jones ride. Jarrik thought to himself that it must sure suck to suck up to a rebel leader. The son excitedly ran ahead: "Pirates of the Caribbean is next!"

A short walk path led to a mellow creek with canoes waiting. Mister Kon sat at the front of the canoe of course. He looked very proud emanating Louis XIV energy. The son sat behind him and pointed out the details of the ride to which the rebel leader nodded approvingly. The doctors sat further back in the canoe. The last person was the paddler of the canoe. The water was brown and dirty from flowing very slowly. It was about ten yards wide.

As they passed a thick push, the sight of the first scene appeared. Crates and barrels with semi-naked bush women mixed among them. All the women had a black fabric to cover one eye. Two women faced each other and alternating hollered "arrgggh" at each other. Another couple chased each other around a crate. A third couple consisted of one lying across the thigh of the other while having her naked exposed ass slapped. An additional woman waded to the canoe. She held five cold bottles of beer against her naked breast and called "krog." She handed the bottles to the people in the boat.

"Congo Safari" exclaimed the son as our canoe left the mildly Caribbean, mildly pirate-like scene. In the elbow of the next turn of the river were women in the shallow. "Look elephants bathing, father," chirped the son, while padding Mister Kon on the shoulder. All the women pinched their nose with one hand. The other hand reached through the loop of the former hand and waved around. Obviously, the second hand was intended as the tusk of the elephant.

One woman lay on her back in the very shallow water raking her naked legs and arms in the air. Two women splashed each other by smashing the water surface with their task hand. They got really playful about ducking their face from the water splashes of the other. Their long hair widely threw water in half arcs around them. Their breasts happily bounced up and down. "Well done," said Mister Kon, while tapping his son's hand on his shoulder.

The paddling soldier in the back of the canoe gave us little bags of peanuts to keep one and pass the rest on. The naked women swam towards the canoe. They stopped next to the sidewall of the canoe with their heads bobbing up and down as they were treading water. Mister Kon held his cupped hand down to the water with a peanut in it. The nearest woman snapped it out of his hand with her mouth. Mister Kon laughed. Jarrik and Kyden followed the example feeding the elephant women.

Jarrik actually found an odd mixture of fun between the dirty water on the women, the power over the women, and the sensual feeling of their tongues and lips licking the palm of his hand to snap the peanuts. "I told you women more competition, more animal," chided the son. The women started shoving each other to compete for peanuts. One pushed the others face away with her hand. The canoe started rocking a bit. One of the women dived under to pull away one woman by her long slender leg. The head of the pulled woman went under water for a moment before she struggled back. Jarrik got turned on imagining the naked bodies struggling underwater, if only the water were clearer and he were under the boat with scuba goggles.

The canoe had drifted on. The elephant women returned to their starting pose for the next canoe. Their own canoe ran ashore to let them out. They clapped applause for the son's Disney Land recreation. Kyden was curt to get back to the plane. Mister Kon, sad to forgo further expressions of gratitude, let the two doctors leave. A badly beaten Toyota truck drove them back to the airfield.

The return flight through the night was unremarkable, except for the comments of Kyden to Jarrik: "I was so glad to get out of there. That mad men can go from gratitude to insanity in a second. When he channels a certain spirit, he sends his people to chop limps and anything off people within grasp."

They returned to the white washed clinic building in the early morning. A huddled shape lay in front of Jarrik's room. The shape was a little shorter and wider than the familiar huddle of Namazzi. The shape hurried away as the steps of Kyden and Jarrik came closer. It was a random villager sleeping in the capital. Villages were often ransacked at night by roaming rebels. Therefore, some villages emptied at night walking for miles to find safer sleeping places in the streets of cities.

The next surprise was the mess in Jarrik's room. The mattress was tossed over. All his clothes were strewn over the floor. Not that he had brought much on the trip. However whoever searched his belonging made sure to scatter them well across the room. Kyden rushed to his aid. Kyden was quick to check the little bathroom for a possibly surprised thief. Jarrik cursed the villager sleeping in his doorway. Kyden thought that it might be someone else and asked Jarrik to check for his passport. The American passport was gone.

Kyden explained that Namazzi probably had stolen the passport and ran off. The passport was worth thousands of dollars in the capital. That was enough to buy her freedom. Kyden admitted to the amazed Jarrik that he had another secret to admit to. Namazzi was one of Mister Kon's prostitutes. She was a high class prostitute, because she provided the whole girlfriend experience rather than raw sex. Jarrik punched Kyden that his claims were impossible. They loved each other.

Kyden pointed out the tattoo of the tree and moon. Sure enough, she is a queen of the night. However, the tattoo marked her as a prostitute belonging to Mister Kon. The moon was the sign for a prostitute. And, the tree was the sign for Mister Kon, because he was like the tree the source of everything. Jarrik got madder for the giant deceit and punched Kyden again. Kyden explained that Mister Kon liked to keep a tight string on people in his world. Kyden had hoped that Jarrik would never have to find out and could have left with a sweet Africa memory, even if it were fake.

The quietude of the streets and the muscular action of walking calmed Jarrik's spirit as he drifted through the streets. He was lost in the power and coercion of his Africa experience. The impulse to run off into the capital at night was not rational. He thought about flying home, yet realized that he needed to wait for a new passport express shipped to the embassy first. By sunrise, he was watching a scrawny dog walking down the street. He wanted to get hammered with the best stuff that he could find. Mister Kon's mansion was the only place.

The city woke up around him. Sleepy people and wired people started coming out of their shags. The two guards with the sticks were at the entrance of Mister Kon's bar. The place was open day and night. Many militia rebels returned in the morning from village raids during the night. The guard behind the door found his Polaroid photo to grand him entrance. Jarrik walked up the wooden stairs holding onto the hand rail. He walked past the balcony and cantina. He went straight for the backroom after another overly thorough frisk check by the guards.

He got the whisky that his dad always dreamed of drinking. The half empty bottle was behind the bartender. He carried five shot glasses to a booth. He pressed the shot glasses together to carry them in one go. A few rebel officers looked at him auspiciously. After he downed the drinks like a soldier emptying one clip after the next in the heat of fire, he started singing songs his father had taught him from Memphis. He felt cuddled by the familiarity. The officers around him felt rankled and moved closer.

Luckily, the bartender recognized Jarrik from an Internet posting about the savior of Mister Kon's son and the opening of African Disney Land. He dragged the utterly drunk Jarrik behind the bar counter to protect him from the rebels maltreatment. He called Kyden. Jarrik passed out in the shallow pools of beer, liquor, and dirt. Occasionally, a service person accidentally stepped on him. He simply huffed in his sleep and shrugged in response. The discrete and long serving bartender looked worryingly down at Jarrik.

Kyden arrived with the Jeep in front of the door. He carried Jarrik on his shoulders out of the establishment. He drove straight towards the rural village. Jarrik slept half the way despite the stiff road wind hitting his face. Before Jarrik could fully come to, Kyden gave him a sedative. By nightfall, the Jeep arrived at the village. The elders listened understandingly to the explanation of Kyden. The still sleeping Jarrik was carried into a hut and place on a sleeping cot. The next morning, Kyden left a note for Jarrik and headed back to the capital.

In the late morning, Jarrik opened his eyes for the first time. Mangeni carefully paid attention. Jarrik closed his eyes again deciding the world was not a place worthy to return to. The second time that he opened his eyes, he at least inspected the blanket that covered him before drifting back into the blackness of sleep. By the third time, Mangeni tenderly pulled away the blanket. The warm blanket had felt stuffy to Jarrik anyway.

Mangeni pulled a white painted metal can of water and a yellow sponge near the cot. She dunked the sponge into the water. The water ran out of the sponge as she brushed Jarrik's hands with it. She carefully washed between the fingers. Jarrik let it happen, because resisting required more effort than acceptance. She washed his arms. She pulled up the dirty old t-shirt from his belly. She made a face of disgust as she smelled the t-shirt. She pulled the t-shirt over his head. Pulling the fabric under the weight of his body out, required a bit of effort. Jarrik paid attention to the sensation of it.

The sponge danced over his whole torso to carefully wet the skin without dripping too much onto the cot. A wet cot is uncomfortable for sleeping. She lathered his torso with a bar of soap. She enjoyed sliding her hands in wide motion over the large male body compared to her young female body. She giggled as her fingers massaged the foam into the hairs of his armpit. She carefully washed the nooks of his face. She kissed him playfully on the nose to test how passive Jarrik was to the intimate manipulation of his face. Jarrik was severly depressed.

Mangeni continued to pull the pants down his legs and his underwear. He realized that he was completely naked with an eighteen year old girl intended on spring cleaning his body. He did not bother. The open window without a glass pane let air drift into the room and out of the opening as a door. He did not bother being seeing naked by people. He was no longer responsible for any of the mess in Africa including whatever was going on now. An elder came by the hut to check on them. Mangeni was focused on washing his hairy thighs. The elder was pleased and not perturbed by his nudity. Jarrik did not want to deal with anything. So, he kept his eyes closed even he was intently following the feeling of Mangeni's hands on his body.

Shame was something that Mangeni seemed to lack. She washed his private parts. The sponge circled his balls, while she was holding his penis. Jarrik thought about the joke, where a nurse is shaving the pubic area of a man holding the penis like that. After a while the man says that the penis stands on his own and she would no longer have to hold it. Mangeni rubbed the sponge up and down his penis. He looked forward to the feeling of the hard soap followed by the sponge. She carefully placed his penis down over his balls. However, the penis would fall sideways. Unsatisfied, she would lay the penis straight up on his belly.

Next, Mangeni got the bowl with fruits that the elder had left at the entrance. She picked a piece of Mango and held it at Jarrik's lips until he surrendered to it being easier to let the food in. It was sweet and smooth in his mouth. He realized that he had not eaten in a while. This was the first time that he looked at Mangeni's face. She recognized the familiar face. Her eyes were clear as glass. The mood on her face was soft as a breeze, as she angelically smiled at being observed. Her hair was neatly done in a circle around the top of her head and hang open and long in the back. She was wearing a blue dress. She gave him another piece of Mango. He remembered licking her fingers during surgery. They were still as deliciously smooth and cool. This time she could openly see his hardon for her.

He watched her and observed her boobs and muscles move as she fed him. He gazed at her soft pink small lips. He inspected the lines in her lips that ran from the inside out like faint lip piercings. He would have fucked her, yet he did not want to tear the fabric of this wonderful unreal movie. So, he remained motionless only opening his lips at her offerings. After the plate was emptied, she laid it back down at the entrance of the hut.

She handed Kyden's note to Jarrik and went to her own side of the room to sit down. Kyden's note said that Jarrik should stay in the peaceful village until he had worked things out. A rash man was quickly a dead man in the capital. Jarrik let the note fall down and starred at the ceiling wondering, if he should return back to America early.

Boredom set in for Mangeni. She started dancing. First, she bumped her hips left and right. Then, she got wilder spinning in a circle. Next, she was catching imaginary butterflies in the air and setting them free elsewhere to the rhythm of an inaudible flute. She turned into an Indian deity with eight arms as her hands moved around like a temple dance. As she started sweating from the exertion, she pulled the dress over her head. Her young and tight body was completely naked under the dress. The rural village offered her neither bras nor panties. Her boobs did not flop like those of the older women. Her mammary gland gently rippled with motion, so sexy. Her butt was well-shaped and bulbous.

Jarrik's penis was hard, yet his limbs felt too heavy to move. His confidence that he could actually have sex with the naked Mangeni was low, even they were both naked in the same room. He feared violating an unknown village rule and getting into more trouble, perhaps finally killed this time. All this agony was in such a stark contrast to Mangeni's carefree shimmy, which made him want her all the more. He wanted to take her to energetically drink that carefree and happy way of being out of her.

The music in Mangeni's head stopped. A woman at the entrance waved her to take a plate with a rough yellow pile of shea butter. The cream had been extracted from the seeds of the shea tree. The woman left. Mangeni kneeled down next to his cot. The tips of her cupped hand picked up a glob of shea butter. The two hands rotated against each other swiftly making a swishing sound and distributing the shea butter over the palms. She lifted his arm by the wrist. Her other hand glided all the way along his arm distributing the shea butter and massaging him. The warm fuzzy feeling of being touched made him happy.

He closed his eyes. Colors, faces, and people merrily flashed in front of his eyes and morphed into new shapes. His breathing grew deep under the crafty massage strokes of Mangeni. He became aware of his body, muscles, and bones. He felt himself more luxurious under the soft touch than the scraggy doctor rushed around in danger and deceit. Blissful memories and people back from America mixed with the recent torrent of events. With every stroke of her warm hands, he relaxed the muscles and surrendered herself to him.

So, it was that at first he did not even register her massaging his penis. Her hands started at the root of the shaft. Her palm stroked the penis towards the head along the thigh and finished down the thigh to his knee. With her other hand, she massage along his ball sack and brushed it against the opposite side. She finished the hand stroke passed his ball sack down to the knee. His penis felt so much more part of his whole body this way rather than the aperture that always stand out from his body. She massaged his penis up against his stomach as it hardened. She gently pulled the balls down in the sack stretching the sack skin. Around this time, he consciously realized that the eighteen year old Nubian beauty was handling his penis.

He looked down at her naked arms resting on his body, while she played with his now fully erect penis. She was almost half his age. He seized her up again. When he was eighteen, eighteen year olds seemed so mature. Now, this eighteen year old seemed so distant almost too young to be able to relate to. Could her young mind feel what he was feeling? Yet, she was all the more sexy. "Can I kiss it?" she asked. He said his first word "yes."

Her lips swallowed his penis deep. The lips formed a ring and lowered down his penis. He felt the wet and warm sensation of her mouth. His penis was pulsating as each pump of the heart tried to fill it with more blood. She slowly moved her head up and down licking her tongue along his shaft. One hand was holding the root of his penis. Her other hand covered itself in more shea butter. Then, she twisted and wiggled her index finger into his anus. He had never felt the sensation before. It made him feel full. It made him feel like the head of his penis would explode. The finger in his freckle caressed the prostate gland. The surface of his penis was on fire. Her mouth was the petrol that made him explode. The strong sexual urge of his orgasm exploded in his pelvis. He pushed her head all the way down to his belly. She choked hard on the penis deep in her throat. She struggled and tried to relax. All his force held her head down. His jizz was gushing into her in spurts.

The last wave of ecstasy left him limb. Mangeni pulled her head up. A web of jizz, saliva, snot, and tears hang down from her face to his penis. She smiled in astonishment. Her young body and spirit drove his sexual desire so much that he did not need a recess. He told her to sit on his cock and start riding him. This time, he could fully taste her deliciousness. He caressed her boobs. He tenderly bit her nipples. He fully tasted the flavor of her mouth. He caressed his own fingers in her hair. Her little warrior like body was riding high on his body. She straddled him. She arched her back. She held her arms next to her head grinding her pelvis on him. She was all he had ever wanted in a woman.