Into Africa Ch 09

CHAPTER 9: IMIRA'S TRAINING

Imira and I were busying ourselves picking up and putting the house into order. I was expecting Dimka to return and we had let the house get messy while focusing our time on each other and exploring the nuances of girl-girl loving.

We both heard the car door slam at the same time. Imira turned quickly at the sound. She looked nervous. Despite our spending the entire time together naked, the sound of someone outside made it feel very different for her. We peeked out the side windows at the front door to find Dimka standing by a United Africa truck talking to two men, very black, of course. It had to be Imira's belongings which meant Dimka had successfully closed out her furnished apartment and donated everything but her clothes and personal things.

I told Imira to rush to my closet and return with two of my robes. It didn't matter which because they were all the same except for color and trim: short, silky, and very hard to keep the waist tie secured. They were a favorite of the men if I was to wear anything. I smiled at the thought that it was exactly what I wore to Mr. Ibori's estate the first time I met him.

Imira returned just as Dimka was opening the door. He caught a glimpse of Imira's naked body as she slipped into the robe. I was less frantic about it. The men with the truck were busy at the back of it for the moment. When the first man arrived with a box, it was a very light one. I stopped him, took it, and gave it to Imira. I told her to wait and lead the men with heavier boxes back to her room. Dimka knew what I was doing and we followed behind. The walk from the entryway, down the hall, and into her bedroom had exerted just enough movement to loosen the tie substantially. The men followed her into the room so that when she put the box down on the bed, the men dropped their boxes just inside the door and when Imira turned, the tie fell open along with the robe. She was exposed from neck to shaved pussy and the men didn't miss it.

Dimka hurried the men out and I found her shaking. "They ... saw me ... didn't they?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Most definitely. I think they were stunned by your beauty. How did it feel?"

"Embarrassing," she admitted immediately, "but ... exciting, too." She looked at me shyly. "Dimka was the first man to see me naked ... and touch me."

I hugged her and assured her many men will be seeing her naked in the future. She shyly looked at me, then smiled. I suggested we tease the men by leaving the ties loose so the robes would gape open from the right viewing. She was nervous but she did it.

After the men left, Dimka and I left her to sort and organize her stuff in her room. She ended up with two boxes for storage in the garage. By the time we eventually went through her clothes, there would be more than that, I was sure.

Dimka and I were alongside the pool when Imira finished and came looking for us. To her credit, she was naked as I had instructed her we always were in the house. I had swum some laps and dried before settling in Dimka's lap as he reclined on a lounge chair. Imira shyly appeared before us, nervously looking at Dimka dressed only in a swimsuit as he lightly caressed my breasts and stomach. I sat up, kissed him lightly on the lips, and gave him a knowing look. He nodded.

I rose and told Imira to take my place. It was time to continue her training. She needed to be somewhat ready before the executives or others began coming.

She smiled demurely at Dimka after I rose. I had to remember that they knew each other from the village and, more significantly, he had been a family friend. She settled onto his lap in the same position I had been in to allow her front to be exposed and available to his touch. He whispered in her ear and his fingers started slowly along her arms. I left them to get a pitcher of cold water and glasses.

When I returned, I saw her eyes closed as his fingers played her nipples and began stroking down her stomach and belly. I watched curiously as his fingers neared the top of her pussy. Her legs parted but his fingers still didn't go there. I gently placed the tray on a poolside table nearby and returned to watch Dimka's efforts and her reaction. I was pleased that her legs opened to him, a response to the play between us during the days we waited for Dimka to return. I had wanted her to experience more orgasms and the casual touch of another person. Now, she needed to feel the same availability to men.

She was squirming on his hard chest and stomach, arousal clearing taking hold as he fondled her breasts and teased her nipples. When his hand moved down her stomach and abdomen the next time, I saw her lower back arch and then her hips curl in anticipation but he withheld his touch there, once again. I heard a soft whimper escape her lips as his fingers caressed back up her toned, black body. Once more, his fingers caressed a lazy route down her body and her body reacted similarly. This time, though, a different sound escaped her lips.

"Please ... oh, Dimka ... please ... touch me there ... please ..."

I had quietly placed a chair to the side and front of them so I could watch. He looked at me. We shared a smile. Dimka was looking at me to receive direction, he was entirely capable of playing a woman; he had pulled the slut out of me. So, I merely smiled and sat back to watch him and her. His fingers were in line to move over her clitoral hood but suddenly moved to each side and the same for her pussy lips which bore a sheen under the sun ... a sheen of the lubrication leaking from her. She continued to release soft gasps and groans and sighs as his fingers teased along her pussy without touching her there. When his finger suddenly moved along her wet slit, she expelled a loud breath and moan. Her hand moved to her remaining free breast and her legs spread a little further, her back flexing in rhythm to her ragged breathing. His finger pressed and parted her lips, moving between them, and taking on a sheen of her wetness.

My eyes shifted to her face. Her eyes still closed, her mouth slightly open, occasionally biting her lower lip or licking her lip with her tongue, her head turning up as her shoulders flexed with her moving back. Suddenly, her mouth opened wide, and a strangled expelled moan escaped. I looked down to find Dimka with his finger deep in her pussy and slowly moving in and out. His other hand moved down to stroke her clit, which was now clearly engorged, and she reacted strongly to the touch. In minutes more, she came, again, on his fingers.

I brought them both water, which she guzzled down. Hydration is critical in the hot African sun and more so with orgasms, I think. She held the glass with one hand and stroked his arm that still had fingers stroking along and in her pussy. She looked at me watching her. Her face expressed shyness but her body was wantonly exposed and open to Dimka's touch.

I smiled and nodded to her. "How do you feel?" I asked.

"Wonderful ... amazing," came her reply. She was stroking his arm, "Thank you, Dimka ... again." He hugged her under her breasts with his other arm. Typical Dimka, his action speaks more than words.

With Dimka's fingers playing over her open pussy, I asked for my curiosity, "You seem primed to experience these things, Imira. Why is it you are still a virgin? Surely, in the city, you found many young men who you were attracted to."

She nodded, "The tribe ..." she began, paused, and started, "... in the tribe, it is an honor to have the Chief be your first. If the Chief contacts the parents and the parents agree, a young woman feels honored and it is a sign of special significance for attracting young men of the village who would be good providers and give lots of children."

Interesting, I thought. I had a sense when I was first with the Chief as he fucked me that he was accustomed to many women. That, and I suspect many mothers, too, was the reason. Dimka nodded.

She continued, "When people leave the villages, they often leave behind the old ways, especially the children of parents who left. I was taken out to be tutored for college. I guess ... I think I still yearned for the ways of the village." She looked at me, then down her body at Dimka's fingers moving over and into her pussy. She sighed at his continued touch and looked back at me and, obvious to me, she was considering something more. "The village, ma'am, is a place of order ... especially for a woman like myself who wishes for order. This world," she opened her arms to everything around us representing the material world, "holds many opportunities but ... but maybe not for a woman like me who still feels the pull of the village life." This was amazing. I looked at Dimka and wondered if what I was thinking might explain him, too.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. "Imira, you honestly believe in me, don't you?" Dimka's fingers stopped. I suspected he didn't want to influence her.

She studied me closely. I had rejected the name earlier, now I was asking. She nodded. "Yes. You are her, maybe not her-her as in the physical her, but you are her. I don't know if that makes sense but it is true. It isn't just the medallion you wear. Anyone could have given you a symbol, but the tattoo ... when I saw it ... it is of the style of my village. They believe."

I looked at Dimka who watched me over her shoulder. Our eyes had their separate conversation until I had to have it verbally confirmed. "You, too?" I asked. "You've been coy with your answers before, Dimka, but ... you, too? This isn't just helping United Africa?"

He sighed but I could read him now. He was reluctant to betray the men who had provided him so much. At that moment, I saw the tribal man separated from the tribe in the same way Imira described herself. He opened his mouth, closed it, and I saw Imira stroke his arm more firmly.

"Yes," he finally responded. "Yes ... I believe, too. I have pretended to be separated from the tribe but there is a reason I visit the tribe when others don't. I need them. I need to feel their connection and real life in the natural world. When you live in that world, Ann, you are open to signs others cannot see or feel."

Imira rose from Dimka and stepped in front of me. She bent over and kissed my throat but I knew she wasn't kissing my throat, she was kissing the medallion. Then, she pushed my knees apart and knelt between them, and kiss the tattoo just an inch above my clit. And, suddenly it made sense. It was curious to me that this young, inexperienced woman should flow so easily and eagerly into girl-girl sex. Yes, we licked and sucked each other's pussies, but that wasn't her real aim. She was attending to that symbol. And, this ... her openness to Dimka's touch and her nervousness with other men. She felt a bond with Dimka, a common belief, and commitment they shared. Me ... but not me ... Osuni.

Dimka's voice refocused me. "You were surprised when I stood up to the executives. Do you understand, now?" I nodded. "When Mrs. Okafor pressured you for your thoughts, you flatly agreed to help United Africa as they intended but you insisted that Osuni was the tribes', not theirs." He studied my reaction. "She pushed her husband, remember? Do you remember she was more recently from the village, too?"

She was, I remember her sharing that, that Mr. Okafor took her away from the tribe. It had been an honor to be the wife of a powerful man, but I remember there was something in the way she told it that hinted at a significant loss in the gain. I gazed at Dimka then Imira still between my legs looking up at me. How long was my western thinking going to reject what was so obvious to them? As Dimka has gently challenged me several times, when does science, rational thinking, or logical arguments made a difference in beliefs? Those things never explained belief. They can't. Belief comes from within, not from the brain.

"What am I going to do with you two?" I playfully asked.

"Accept us," Imira responded as she gave my tattoo another kiss and her tongue dipped lower to lick my clit. I nodded and smiled down at her. Then, she sat back on her heels. "You want me to serve African cock like you but all I can do is serve you and in serving you I can satisfy African cock." She gazed at me and took a deep breath before pushing on. "I think ... I think when Dimka released you to feel your devotion to serving African men, something else happened. I think ... he released you ... you who you were and nobody knew. I think ... you don't lust after African cock at all. I think your lust is the awakening of yourself in serving African men, yes, but ultimately, in serving African men who desire your help." She held my gaze without flinching from it, though I could see she felt she was treading on unstable footing.

This was overwhelming. They were both presenting an argument devoid of rationality or logic but more compelling than if they were using those very tools to argue against it. Could it be? Could my insistence of including the tribes regularly have been the demarcation point in my subconsciousness when my commitment to United Africa for material, motivational gain also accepted the tribal effect of my presence? Was I already subconsciously moving in the same direction these two (three including Mrs. Okafor) were already firmly planted? And, if I believed, even a little, what would that mean?

It was too much. Everything I assumed before was being challenged. I abruptly rose from the chair and rushed into the house, slamming the bedroom door closed. Several moments later, Dimka knocked and came in, sitting on the edge of the bed where I was curled protectively.

"It's too much, Dimka. I was a simple wife, frustrated but content at some level. Then, I was a cock-hungry slut and I truly was happy. Yes, I was manipulated at first but, in the end, I was truly happy to have an African cock to suck and fuck. Then, Mr. Okafor comes up with his medallion plan. It was manipulation... it was fake ... he intended nothing more but to use it for his gain. The village surprised him, though. It messed with his assumptions. The villages believed. Who would have thought? I continued to reject it because ... because what was I? I was just a slut. It caused me to think, though. Then you standing up for me and Osuni and the villages. Then, Imira. Damn, Dimka ... I can't help it ..." He hugged me tight and told me it was okay. He was comforting me. "Dimka ... see? See what's happening? Before ... before you would have just fucked me to straighten me out. Now ... you're so gentle, comforting, caring." I straightened and rolled over to look up at him. "We're changing, Dimka. I'm changing." He simply smiled. "What does it mean?"

"It means, I think," came a young, innocent voice from the door, "that none of us can assume to know who we are, what we are, or will become until it is finally revealed to us." She crawled onto the bed on the opposite side of me from Dimka and added her comforting arms to his. "Maybe ... maybe ... if you thought you were just a slut, maybe that time provided you with the openness and skill to be with men now. Maybe you had to go down that path for this path to be found."

I looked up at Dimka and he raised his eyebrows. I started laughing, then saw how that devastated Imira. I pulled her into my grasp, "No, Imira, no, no ... no." I kissed her forehead and hair and stroked down her back. "No, Imira ... I laughed because your words, your vision, with everything else makes it all so reasonable."

"You mean," Dimka venture, "you are believing, too?"

I smiled at both. "Believe? What it means is that I believe I can make this more than being United Africa's slut for their profit."

Almost in unison, they said, "It's a start." This time we all laughed.

* * * *

There was another start necessary, though. In my mind, Imira's training to fuck African cock encountered a tectonic shift. I discussed it with them the next morning. Amazing what your subconscious mind can work out when you stop trying so hard. Dimka liked it. Imira blushed and was speechless. After everything she had come up with recently, that was a surprise.

What difference would it make? Maybe not a lot. She would still fuck African cock. She would still be naked. But, in our minds and attitude, the difference was ... well, a tectonic shift in perspective. It was, apparently, as big a significance in Imira's attitude that she suddenly couldn't wait to begin her serious introduction to sexual training by Dimka. We would have to walk a fine line around United Africa but I felt we all were suddenly much more interested in returning to the villages.

Imira and I were finishing the cleaning of the kitchen after breakfast and coffee when I glanced back at hearing a sound. Dimka stood leaning against the entry to the kitchen. Imira saw my face and turned with me.

"Yes?" I asked playfully with a large smile.

He shrugged, "Just enjoying the view of two amazing naked asses." He was dressed as always in dark slacks, a pull-over shirt that fit his strong body like a second skin, and his heavy shoes.

I whisper into Imira's ear and her face lit up brighter. She hung the dish towel and turned to Dimka. She was naked like me and seemed more comfortable with it now. She stepped up to Dimka, "Can we begin my training, now?" He had confided to me that he never liked the idea of tricking me and we were relieved that none of that was to be used with Imira. Her approaching him, brightened him, too.

He picked her up like he has done to me so many times as if she weighed nothing. She giggled with her eyes only on him as he carried her into the family room. He placed her standing on the floor in front of him as he sat on the couch. His hands began fondling her breasts, his fingers on her nipples, his hands moving down her body to her pussy. I watched quietly from the side and was pleased to see her open her legs as his fingers approached her pussy just as I had instructed. Dimka was telling her she would be touched by men without asking her approval. She must get comfortable with being touched just as she must be comfortable being naked and viewed by men. I watched as his finger again entered her pussy. I saw her flinch slightly, very slightly, but she didn't move and didn't show any resistance. What I heard from her was a soft gasp followed by a moan.

Dimka was smiling, "You are already wet, Imira."

She nodded, "Yes, sir. I ... I ...," she stammered. Being verbal about her sexuality was still too new but there was a determination in her. "I found myself ... being very excited just ... just to be able to assist Osuni." If her mind was diverted in the slightest, she continued to fall back into using that name.

"You like the idea she presented this morning?" he asked as a second finger entered her and I could see her breath catch as two of his large fingers moved inside her, her legs now wider and her knees flexing slightly as if to gain more of his fingers deeper. I think there is a very sexual woman inside her.

"Yes ... yes ... ooooooooo ... before ... I would have ... done anything for her ... anyway ... but now ... she honors me and ... my life is hers."

We both looked at her, found her eyes closed and looked at each other. I could see he was as surprised as I was. Then he smiled and raised his eyebrows as if to say, see how she believes. I saw; I heard; the burden of that belief weighed on me.

I was brought out of my thoughts about her ... and me ... by the moans and gasps of her orgasm, again by his fingers. He grabbed her into his lap and softly caressed her back and arm as she settled and calmed. He softly spoke to her about how beautiful she looks when she orgasms, how easily she responds, and how that will encourage and empower the egos of men. He then asked her if she was ready. She nodded confidently.