Into Africa Ch. 07

She was beaming. She was also covered to her elbows in fish scales, slime, and blood. She jumped up and raced to us, throwing her arms around me in thanks. Then, embarrassed, she backed several steps with her head turned down, again. I chuckled, stepped forward, and took her back into my arms. She melted into me. All along the river villagers stopped whatever they were doing to watch, then murmur between themselves. I didn't pay much attention but Dimka did.

More and more, these episodes were repeated in different ways. I spotted the first husband busy with other men erecting a new hut. When he noticed me, he smiled shyly.

After three weeks in the village, a middle-aged woman stopped us. She was dressed in a similar style of worn cloth around the waist and topless. She has a son who wishes to ask a certain young woman for marriage. Dimka explained that marriage proposals were presented to the father for his approval and typically involved some gift representing his ability to provide for the daughter. The young man, I found out, was a very capable hunter and worker but was very shy. Not wanting to offend the mother of the young man, I kept the smile I felt inside.

Knowing the young man was shy and also knowing the curiosity of the village, she led me out of the village to one of the clearings of grasses where livestock was left to graze under the watch of older boys. This clearing was not being used for livestock at the moment. I found the young man standing nervously with maybe a bit of resentment of his mother for seeking my assistance.

I found being among the people for weeks a tremendous advantage in learning the language, even if it was still a rudimentary knowledge for me. I asked him about the young woman and his demeanor changed instantly. She sounded like a wonderful young woman and it was obvious he care deeply for her.

"You have the necessary gift for her father?" He nodded. "And you want the courage to confront him ... to ask for her?" He nodded, again. I gazed into his eyes and held his even though he attempted to look away. My fingers loosened his shorts and they dropped to the ground. He looked down and I did, too. Damn! What is it with the males of these villages? I sank to my knees before him, only part of me doing so with the intent of trying to help him. The other part (bigger part?) wanted his hardening cock. There was no question, United Africa had transformed me into a cock hungry slut. It sounded like Osuni was, also.

I looked up at him as I held his hard cock up and licked the base, "How much courage do you think you need?" I asked. He looked down. His eyes were glazed with desire and lust. Was this his first time, I wondered. A lot, he said.

I turned on my knees and bent forward, my hands spreading my ass cheeks. He just looked at me presenting myself to him. I laughed internally, but said, "You better take my ass, then."

There was no more hesitation. He dropped behind me and awkwardly pressed his cock at my asshole. He pressed but seemed tentative, maybe of hurting me. I pressed back hard and the head popped past the sphincter and he groaned. I gasped as he fucked me with the unique energy of the young.

Dimka and I were invited to the other villages, too. Similar occurrences happened in those, too. I had completely lost track of time in the village life. It was peaceful and unhurried. I was welcomed everywhere I went and my body was sought after by men hoping to gain something and by women for their men. I had also forgotten about the camera crew.

It was more than a month after I had arrived in the village when I was presented still naked to the assembled tribe and members of other tribes. Chiefs and holy men of each of the tribes were present as I walked through the crowd of people. I saw many who I had interactions with, men and women who had interceded for their men. Many people shifted for positions to reach out and touch me.

One after another, the chiefs spoke to the assembled mix of tribes. Dimka translated to be sure I understood all that was said. The Chief of this village spoke of the ancient legend of Osuni, how she had brought cooperation, strength, and prowess to the people of the region. He mused about what it must have been like in those times when she walked the earth among the people.

Then he pointed at me and said, "Not so long ago, a woman not of our tribe came into our village and we all wondered why. Why is this strange white woman with light-colored hair in our village? What we didn't know when we first saw her come among us as she came with a spirit, a spirit that was beyond herself, beyond the people she came from, beyond anything of this world." He came up behind me and I felt the other Chiefs and holy men step forward closely around me. The Chief of this village put his hands on my shoulders. He continued, "Do I believe this woman is the Osuni of the legend? No..." I had to admit, that was a surprise.

Then, amazingly, those behind me spoke as in one voice, "But she carries within her the spirit of Osuni."

Each Chief then chronicled events that had happened in their village since my arrival and interaction with them. As they spoke of events, those who had experienced those events called out in voices that I could only think of in terms of praise or hallelujahs. It was spooky, unreal, surreal. Chills crawled up my spine and rippled over my naked flesh. Could they be right? Could it even remotely be true? Mr. Okafor wanted a tool, me as a tool, to motivate and incent people for corporate gain and his enrichment. I had been chosen initially to become a tool, a toy for their use and pleasure. Along the way, it had become more. Could it possibly have become this much more? Was all this an elaborate play being acted out to an end that even Mr. Okafor and the others had no comprehension of? It seemed too amazing to be. Yet ...

The Chiefs retreated a few steps back from me and the holy men of each tribe assembled around me. One held up the choke collar and medallion I had worn before but as they put it around my neck, something more was happening. I felt a thick piece of hide placed against the skin of my neck as they fastened the collar, but the collar ends were being fused, not clasped. The medallion and collar weren't coming off.

Then, I received another surprise. Men held me on both sides and my legs were parted wide. One of the holy men knelt in front of me and bowls of the colored mixture and sharp needles were given to him. As the other men held me still, I was tattooed in front of everyone. I felt the needles dipped in the inks pressed into my flesh low on my abdomen, very low on my abdomen. The image after he was completed was an exact duplication of the medallion in bright colors that begged to be seen. The bottom of the shape was a mere inch above my clitoral hood.

The man had managed to rub and bump and prod my clit repeatedly in the process. My pussy was dripping and my clit engorged. I was overcome with arousal, confusion, and gratitude. I had come to the village for one purpose, to assist United Africa. I was left feeling something very different and I didn't know how to accept and manage the conflict.

Before we left the village, though, there was one thing I had to do: find a place to take Dimka and jump onto his cock.