Oyasi: Tryst by the Creek

The grasshopper, dictyophorus spumans, perched on the red oat grass. The large black eyes and the thick antenna gave it an alien look. The waxy exoskeleton made the red and black color on the legs stand out even more. The body was covered with yellow and brown dashes. A swift side move and a jump away made it disappear off the grass leaf.

The red oat grass, or rooigras in Afrikaans, stood four feet tall. Summer had produced large red-brown spikelets on branched stems. The fire resistant grass grew along the dirt road. Occasionally, a cow pulled a bundle of grass out to lazily munch it with its soft brown mouth.

The dirt road had vibrant red clay dirt. The iron content made it red. Rain water had carved little streams into the road bed. There were no tire tracks, only a gazillion sandal or bare foot steps from the close knit villagers. They walked to tend to the farms or gather. Only very occasionally, the villagers wandered to the nearest village. The sky was deeply blue with out of place fluffy clouds that provided everything that they needed.

Mackeda kneeled on the floor of her mud hut. The base of her palms pressed into the dough batter. Her body rocked back and force to use her weight to fold over the dough. The cooking stone was a bit rough and uneven, yet flat enough. Blue minerals were embedded in the white granite. She hummed along a song to cheer her day with a smile. Hair locks fell into her face from the earnest work.

“Today is the best day of my life, because I had the visit of a saint.” “All my sins and sorrows vanished, when I saw the saint’s feet.” “The fruits of my good actions came to me all at once, when I met this saint.” “All my accumulated suffering turned into bliss, when I simply glazed at the feet of this saint.”

She wore a knee long dress with a colorful blue and green pattern as only women in Africa will do. The top of it hang in one inch thick straps from her shoulder. The straps left her athletic arms free for the daily chores. Although, she wore a tank top beneath the dress, her Nubian boobs were insinuates by the exposed sides. The exposed sides showed the hanging tissue that suspended her boobs.

Her toes were curled under her kneel. The toes splayed out with the little toes having come free. The feet were washed and deliberately clean and fresh. She had an easy smile on her dark brown face. The kinky hair was tamed into tight braids with a couple fluff pieces having escaped.

Kabaila was her eight months old son. He was wrapped into a bundle with blue clothes. Somehow, his right leg had become free. The fingers of both hands were pulling on his free foot, while he happily babbled with his toothless mouth. Cute, big baby eyes starred onto the ceiling, unaware about the connection between his toes and where he was looking.

Rafiki, her five year old, was running outside after a bird. The bird had, with great misfortune, chosen to enter the village. Three boys were running after it in high spirit. The Vitelline Masked Weaver ran a bit, fluttered up onto a hut or bush, and paused for a moment until the boys had caught up. The bird was mostly yellow with a black face that had red-brown boundaries. Rafiki was dressed in pale camouflage shorts and a blue t-shirt with the logo of a Western NGO. His biggest assets were his white teeth and eyes that beamed the excitement of playing outside.

Knowing her family happy around her in the village, Mackeda kept toiling in the mud hut. With locked elbows, the arms were pushing down on the dough. The warm sunlight fell through the window onto her arms. Dust particles in the air reflected the sun blindingly bright. The warm sunlight teased the brown color to radiate in her otherwise dark skin. Her arms were slender and athletic.

Her dress was tucked under her butt and over the heels that she was kneeling on. Her gluteal muscles were firm and compact like that of a young girl. The dress hugged her butt closely to reveal the butt cleft. The feet were right under her butt. The top of her feet had the colorful brown, yet the bottom was a light gray. A sharp edge divided the different colors at the edge of her feet. The feet had only soft juicy folds that young women have.

The village shaman bowed into the room. He was a good forty years old. A few feathers and ornaments hung on his body. His face had furrows and tattoos that told his life’s essence: part magician, part drunk, part beggar, and part revered ceremony master at celebrations. His shins were bare and painted with white chalk. The eyes were dark.

“Mackeda, there is dark magic around the village. You are a young and tender girl, a weak match for vile spirits.”

“Oh, powerful shaman, I believe the evil spirits do not dare tread on the same continent as thou powerful shaman treats.” Bright cheery laughter like the sun itself flowed out of Mackeda. “Here are some flour patties. Have as many as you want.”

She elegantly rose to her knees by first rolling back onto her soles in a squat and then standing up in a smooth motion. She lifted bursa escort bayan the straw-woven basket with dirty clothes. Her body tilted sideways to lift the heavy basket. The village shaman was immediately consumed by his attention to the flour patties. Outside, she placed a circle of twirled black fabric on her head. That was the coaster for the basket to be carried on her head.

The village having only a dozen huts, she was quickly in overhead high reed. A maze of opaque reed grew along the village creek. Only knowing the paths by heart granted safe passage through the reed thicket. The reed had thick long leaves that caressed her arms and lower legs, as she pushed through the reed.

The ground beneath her was soft and moist. It sank a little under her skinny flip flops to contour to her feet. Occasionally, a sharp beam of sunlight shot through a gap in the reed. It burned and tingled pleasantly on her skin. She was almost in a trance from the tactile stimulation of diving through the reed. Occasionally, thick frogs walked out of her way. The thick long legs with the five star pointed feet would alternatingly stretch out to push the frog into the shadow.

After ten minutes, she reached an idyllic place in the creek. The creek fell down a two foot rock. Beneath the gurgling fall was a pool with hip deep water. Comfortable large round rocks invited for sitting down. The ground was thick and clay like. With every step, the water was squeezed out of the ground. Yet, one would not think in like mud would do.

She had come here to wash the family laundry in solitude. Yet, there were two strange women on the other side of the pool looking at her. One was a short, white skinned woman. The hair was long and wonderfully straight. Her face was round. Everything was a bit stubby about her. She wore a gray overall with letters that were definitely not familiar to Mackeda.

The other woman was a foot taller, very slender, definitely Caucasian. She wore an elegant dress, which was narrow, even taut, around her legs and hips with a deep slit in the front. Her lips were colored with red lipstick. Everything about her was accented with makeup. The oddest thing about her was the very high high-heels in the middle of the African bush. Without even the hint of awkwardness, she stood on the wet ground, perfectly balancing on her balls.

Mackeda waved her forearm side to side and said ‘hello’ in her native mother tongue. The two foreign women smiled back at her. They waded to her across the pool. The tall woman walked through the pool with complete elegance. There was no hint on her body or face, when she entered the water or when she was knee deep with her elegant clothing in the wet. The short woman giggled and fished with her hands through the water, when she crossed.

The tall women spoke with an air, “Bethany,” and placed the palm of her hand onto her chest. Then, she placed her hand on the center of Mackeda’s chest in between the breasts. Mackeda could clearly feel that the woman was feeling up ever rib in her chest. The hand softly lingered to feel for any padding of breast tissue over the ribs. The hand was curiously intimate and Mackeda blushed with a deep red under her brown skin.


The tall woman’s face exclaimed and smiled warmly. The tall woman grabbed Mackeda’s hand. She placed the hand in between her own boobs. What made the touch so sensual was the slowness of the hand placed on the chest. Unlike a brief, concise handshake, the hand first got to feel the smooth texture of the dress. With more pressure, the contour of the chest was evident. Finally, a lingering hold let the heart of the strange woman beat into Mackeda’s hand with its double thump. Mackeda was strangely mesmerized by the intimate touch.

The short woman had waited her turn to say “Tamiko.” With that, the shortie had her hand on her left boob. With a sharp movement, the same hand grabbed Mackeda’s left boob and lingered there. The unusual touch of her intimate no-touch zone made Mackeda inhale sharply. Her heart immediately went into a fluttering pounding. She though that the foreigners had strange customs.

The shortie broke out in fast nervous giggling. Her eyes closed completely, her body shivered, and a high pitched sound escaped her throat. Mackeda immediately joined the giggling, because her discomfort was so great. It was a great way to relief the awkward tension. “Mackeda,” said Mackeda over the giggle and repeated louder, “Mackeda.”

Then, the shortie placed Mackeda’s hand on the shortie’s left boob. The shortie placed the hand down swiftly without feeling the layers. Yet, the shortie circled her hand in soft circles. That way Mackeda could feel the smaller breast in diameter, yet the bulb at the center was rounder. On Mackeda’s own body, there was overall more breast tissue, yet it distributed over a larger area on her chest. “Tamiko.”

The three women faced each other with awkward silence. The rural Mackeda only knew the local dialect of one of the 2,000 languages bursa anal yapan escort spoken in Africa. The tall woman, Bethany, whispered a phrase as an order to the shortie, Tamiko. Tamiko pointed at the top of the basket that was resting against a boulder.

Tamiko, with her eyes fastened on Mackeda, reached into the basket and took the hand brush and soap out of it. Then, she zipped down the front of her overall and stepped out of it. She walked to the middle of the pool sat down in it, so that the water line lapped at the bottom of her boobs. She started brushing the soap against her overall to create white fizz.

Mackeda blushed again, this time only a soft red rouged her brown cheeks. She watched Tamiko in her underwear. The skin was as white as a piece of paper. The strong African sun must surely burn her skin. The underwear was round and smooth to her body. Once wet, the nipples and faint pubic hair was revealed shining through.

“The poor foreigners have only one set of clothing,” thought Mackeda.

Then, the tall Bethany unzipped her skirt. She wiggled her hips in undulations to let the dress drop to her feet. Being in underwear did not seem to make Bethany naked. Her demeanor and body posture was as comfortable and high upheld as before. However, stepping out of her high heels, made her feet seem unfamiliar, exposed, and debased on the floor. Her whole demeanor changed into uncomfortable, awkward, and helpless with her toes pressing imprints into the wet red-brown clay.

After an earnest two minutes of scrubbing clothes with soap and hand brush, Bethany flicked her hand into the water to kick up a big white cloud of water drops that pummeled Tamiko’s startled face gasping with an open mouth. Tamiko pushed both her arms forward to lift up a typhoon high wave that crashed over Bethany. Bethany’s hair was soaking wet and hung down. Mackeda giggled to herself. The grownup women were playing like her two sons.

Next, Bethany raised her outstretched arm all the way back. She let the arm snap forward in a wide circle skimping the surface of the pool to raise a giant arc of rain. The rain drizzled down on Mackeda. Her dress had dark blotches of water. The stunned Mackeda at first jumped high on a rock. Then, she tripled into the water less than ankle deep. She flung her toe into the water like a soccer star during penalty kicks. The arc of water hit Bethany squarely on the head and body.

Instantly a skirmish erupted between the three. With the head turned away, they were kicking and punching as much water against each other as fast as they could. It seemed like half the pool’s water was airborne flying into opposite directions between the two friends.

With Mackeda’s dress wet, Tamiko crawled forward on hands and knees to the shallow. With her outstretched short stubby arm, she pulled on Mackeda’s well shaped calves to come into the pool. Mackeda struggled at first dancing around. Yet, she fell with a splash into the water.

Bethany immediately embraced the seated Mackeda from behind in a warm embrace. Mackeda instinctively reacted to the warm touch by cuddling into it. The warm water, warm body, and full body contact tapped into her being nurtured impulse. She surrendered to the feeling without consciously thinking about it.

Thus, pre-occupied into sensing, she missed that Tamiko’s hands were busy around her knees to get a hold of her skirt. By the time that Tamiko had lifted up the skirt to the waste, it was too late to jolt herself out of the cozy embrace to protest. With the help of Bethany’s hands, the dress was instantly lifted over her head.

Mackeda was half naked. Unlike the foreigners, she did not have the money for underwear. Yet, her exposed snatch was hidden under the reflective water surface that painted the green reed and blue sky. She only wore her tank top that clearly showed her nipples through the wet fabric.

Mackeda wanted to protest. Yet, Tamiko had swiftly started washing her dress with the soap and brush. Thus, Tamiko assumed that the two foreign women were returning the favor by washing her clothes. She decided to give them a free pass. And, with Bethany’s caresses on her face, her thoughts were swiftly distracted into feeling good. Mackeda relaxed into the warm womb like water and the mother like nurturing touch by Bethany. All the while, the Tamiko was furiously brushing her dress with the face as serious as that of a master sword smith.

Bethany caressed her face in long strokes from the forehead down along the cheeks to the throat. Her fingers caressed the hair back. Mackeda was buzzing with happy oxytocin feelings. Mackeda could feel Bethany’s breath on her shoulder. Bethany’s head was right behind hers. Then, the soft kisses on the shoulder started.

Mackeda felt her boundaries of appropriate behavior slightly raised, until a full on kiss launched onto her mouth. With their heads being so intimately closed, there was no forewarning, just the sudden warm flood of feelings bursa rus escort that emanated from Mackeda’s mouth through her whole body. Feeling the moist tongue inside of her mouth was a sharp sensation that startled her into pulling away.

Just as Mackeda opened her mouth to protest, Tamiko had closed in and fully kissed her on the lips. Tamiko’s lips were smaller, more defined. Tamiko’s tongue was more dart like, more effective. Tamiko’s tongue darted into the space between Mackeda’s lip and teeth, then deeply into Mackeda’s mouth, and then picked a play fight with Mackeda’s tongue. All the while, the hot small body of Tamiko pressed herself against Mackeda’s chest.

Mackeda felt herself overwhelmed by two bodies pressing against her, four arms fondling her, two tongues coveting over her mouth. So much contact confused Mackeda’s brain. Her arm reached somewhere into the air calling for help. Yet, the sub sum total of all the pleasurable touch, embraces, and human warmth had an arousing effect on her vagina.

When Mackeda’s struggle made the three pack fall sideways into the shallow water, the struggle of bellies, limbs, boobs, and lips rubbing against each other only intensified. In a strange impulse, a kind of counter attack, Mackeda kissed Tamiko back. She pushed her tongue into Tamiko’s mouth, darted around Tamiko’s mouth like a general claiming foreign territory, and then she tasted the sweet Tamiko saliva. That only increased the passion between Mackeda’s legs.

Letting go, Mackeda writhed her body half way out of the water. The red-brown clay painted brush stroked on their bodies, face, shoulders, everywhere with clean skin left as highlights in between. Mackeda paused her writhing for a moment, because she was aware that her pelvic was out of the water. Her nude lower body was exposed. Her pubic hair was a thick curly bush. Tamiko unleashed her shrill girlish giggles at the sight of it.

All three paused. Even Mackeda paused as if she was waiting for approval from her assailers. Bethany broke the silence with reconciling laughter. She slid her own panties, black see-through ones, down her long, thin legs. Swirling the panties around finger, she flung them randomly away into the pool. A neatly shaved landing strip showed above her vagina. Her body gesture said, “Oh, it’s no big deal not to have panties.”

Suddenly, Mackeda’s whole struggle was re-phrased as embarrassment about not being rich enough to own panties. Tamiko threw away her panties as well in solidarity. Tamiko’s public hair was so sparse and thin that she was practically bald down there. The three women were sitting with their knees up on the shore of the pool in the red-brown clay mud and laughing. The water was running down their skins pleasantly in the warm air. They were closed away in their little reed bubble.

Mackeda watched Tamiko take clothes out of the straw bucket. Tamiko diligently busied herself to diligently clean the clothes. Mackeda felt like a little girl that had to be made up to, that had to be appeased after an emotional tantrum. Macheda’s wet face didn’t help. It made her look years younger and more innocent. The willingly handed tank top for cleaning left Mackeda naked. Without clothes she was much skinnier and vulnerable.

The thirty year old Bethany felt like the mother. Tamiko seemed Mackeda’s age, around twenty. That made Tamiko feel like a play mate. After Tamiko had washed all the clothes with industriousness and precision that Mackeda never had, Tamiko spread the clothes on the rocks to dry.

With nothing to do except for waiting for the laundry to dry, Tamiko scooted her butt closer to Bethany over the brown clay mud with the little pebbles. Tamiko’s butt bulged with each little scoot and the butt cheeks parted in between. Next to Bethany, Tamiko’s short stubby index finger lifted a dollop of clay soil of the ground. That left a long streak in the soil.

Tamiko painted two vertical and two horizontal lines on Bethany’s belly to create nine fields. Tamiko placed a circle into the top right field to play tic-tac-toe. Bethany replied by painting an ‘X’ over her navel button in the center field. With much overacted laughter, Bethany won the game.

With coy glances, Tamiko scooted her butt next to the eagerly observing Mackeda. Tamiko painted on her own chubby inner thigh a playing field. She grabbed Mackeda’s hand to signal for Mackeda to make the first move. Mackeda could feel the unique chubbiness of Tamiko’s small hand. With gingerly coyness, Mackeda painted an ‘X’ onto Tamiko’s thigh with red-brown clay dirt.

They played in gaiety together touching each others’ bodies. They secretly enjoyed the sensual stimulating of foreign fingers painting on their bodies. A few goose bumps rippled across their naked skins. Their bodies filled with dirt marks until the empty spaces shrunk to tiny spots.

Tamiko was the one to dare paint the lines of the game board across Mackeda’s chest. At first they avoided the field that contained Mackeda’s nipple. On the second move, Tamiko boldly and deliberately slowly draw her finger across Mackeda’s nipple. She let the nipple fling back up after her finger released it. On the second stroke to mark the ‘X’, Mackeda held her breath to braise for the distinct sensation. To make that tentatlizing move, Tamiko had to surrender winning the game.

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