A bit further on, Naira gets me to stop by another tree, his gaze drawn to something high in the canopy. You jizz I am commanded to stand, feeling the weight of him and the basket. The tree’s trunk is massive, its surface a canvas for a riot of mosses and vines. His breathing is heavy in my ear, a mix of excitement and effort. He’s got it. He starts talking in his language, the words rapid and unfamiliar, but his tone is clear: excitement and discovery. The only things that matter are the ground beneath me and the man on my shoulders. His hands linger on my skin, the gesture almost tender as he checks the fit and makes sure the weight is distributed evenly.
