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Dial - Season 2 - Episode 19
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Source: coolval
I knew that the sight of the witch and her naughty daughter was the last coherent thought I had in that accursed village for some time.

The rest of my days were foggy and passed in a haze. I woke up to screaming pains, as if some people were pushing red-hot pitchforks into my back. I was aware of screaming in agony, and then I would hear the voice of the witch, or her nasty daughter, and feel the coolness of the medicine from Nana b0s0mba caressing my back, and then there would be relief…and thereafter darkness.

Darkness mostly.

Sometimes I woke up to splitting headaches and humid temperature! Sometimes I felt coldness on my body as they wiped me down with a wet towel. And they were there, helping me with to sit up and sip soup.

And, sometimes I felt the strong arms of men lifting me up gently to the makeshift toilet to ease myself.

Then there was an occasion I had the most undignified moment of my life when I became fully lucid, and found myself in the loo being cleaned by Tawiah. I had shouted with horror, but then again the weakness had returned, and the darkness had come back.

Sometimes when I came awake I heard the sounds of giant machines, and wondered briefly what it meant. There were times when I was lucid enough when I heard the sounds of the machines, and I smiled weakly to myself, knowing that Brian Acquah and Kuuku were doing what they were supposed to do.
I didn’t know how long I was sick, or how long I stayed in that feverish state of semi-lucid awareness. It was a confusing cycle of pain, relief, food, voices, coolness, heat, machines…

But then, a time came, when I opened my eyes slowly.

I was lying propped sideways.
There were soft pillows behind my thighs and shoulders and head, leaving my bruised back free, and so I was lying close to the wall on the bed of the witch.
When my eyes opened wider I felt the cool and gentle rubbing of a wet towel across my thighs.

Abena Adobea was sitting beside me on the bed, wearing a faded but nice flowered dress, and she was cleaning gently around the insides of my thighs.
She reached down, dipped the towel into a bucket of water, swished it for a while, and then she wringed it, but not too hard. She brought the towel to my genitals now, cleaning it gently, sensuously.

I almost stopped breathing when she reached out, gently lifted my spear, held it, and cleaned around my personal sac.
Now, she was such a beautiful woman, with curves that stunned the brain, a terrific and artistic flow of valleys and hills that, this close up, defied the lines of perfection.
She was a beauty, a breath-taking creature that lent credence to the mastery of her creator.

And I was awake, and she was holding my lance and cleaning, and I could see the tops of her amazing breasts, the cleavage that separated those creamy, tintillating globes.

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