Committed naturists, their family and friends, intertwine in this fictional story based completely on people I know. Descriptions, interests, professions and attitudes have hopefully been depicted as I know them.
“In, in, in, out, in, out, in, in, in,” Kurt Rapplai instructed, watching his two, bare naked, grand children humping and working the well mechanism, while he waved outside. Aisha, the half caste 8 year old girl and Atlas the 10 year old white boy both doing it all right, as Fanny - Kurt’s naked wife went past the barn waving as she drove the tractor into the yard after ploughing straight furrows across the twenty acre field. Fanny was bronze with the sun effect on her sixty nine year old body after years of being lifetime naturists, Kurt and her children following the same life style and their children too. The tractor engine died and Fanny, having carefully shaken, puffed up and put back the cushion she was sat on, appeared at the door of the barn, leaning against the door frame admiring the gleaming sweaty young bodies.
“You’ll need some more liners to put on that cushion, the bag in the garage is empty,” Kurt reminded her of the hygiene necessary when a bare arse has been on the driving seat. He got a knowing smile and nod. Kurt also admired her stately presence, sturdy yet shapely frame and energy as she had been ploughing for a good three hours now.
“You nearly finished wearing these two out with their efforts Kurt?” she grinned, twisting and flicking away some straw debris off her butt, as the young ones enthusiastically continued. “I know you wanted to teach them important stuff, but give them a rest eh kids?” she called out.
“It’s OK Gan we love doing things like this and Gamps is a very good teacher, we’re good with this particular tool he says,” giggled Aisha, her black curly hair matted to her cute face.
They were the children of Kurt and Fanny’s son Short and his Ugandan wife Salome, who live some miles away and visited during half term holidays. She was his second wife and had found it quite a stretch, helped by Kurt and Fanny, to indoctrinate her to the long established and unusual - to some people, lifestyle. The fact that her primitive ancestors would never have worn clothes up to recent times and have only been clothed via Western influences, therefore going back to nature, had been quite a learning curve for the shy, beautiful, tall, ink black girl. Finally she had accepted it, becoming incredibly popular at naturist clubs they frequented and gave Kurt and Fanny a gorgeous grand daughter and sister to Atlas, Short’s son from his previous marriage. The two years difference in their ages wasn’t an issue.
Kurt had been an itinerant artist who got into naturism at an early age from his parents and grandparents. He exhibited and sold widely, won a few national and one international competitions, then faded from the scene having got busted for selling ‘recreational’, then violated parole which caused him to move a lot, using false names causing major problems when moving around including abroad, especially with Fanny and Short in tow. The South of France of course was a perfect place to hide amongst the many naturist camp sites and the somewhat indifferent and inefficient attitude of the gendarmes.
Meeting the wonderful Fanny Focker on a nudist beach in Dorset, not far from their residence was a landmark for Kurt and they’ve been together for nineteen years and he still revelled in the intricacies and beauty of her body. He remember the moment he clapped eyes on her beauty – well it was more the beauty of her cunt, but it was so open to view and to use if Kurt had asked – she had immediately confirmed that, liking the hang of his not remarkable tackle and smile. The combination of the myriad of creases and folds round a clearly moist, dark aperture beyond, hooked him and she caught him staring which is taboo in the conventions of naturism. However, the way she dealt with it was so well mannered, polite and sexy by not concealing her crotch, which was bald, but straight out asking if Kurt enjoyed the view. The fact that he was with Bob and Jackie Cumming, a pal of his and they’d all been interested, quietly chatting about Fanny’s mott and comparing likes and dislikes. Bob was a sculptor and cartoonist and Jackie was a show dancer, life model, often topless on stage.
The little group got into details about shaving pussy against waxing, this being started by noticing Fanny’s twat looked shaved although there was no hair as such but a distinct darker layer of stubble over a large vee at the base of her belly. A luscious medium size pair of tits, jutted proudly from her chest. She also had a nice round belly, not a flat performers one as Jackie did
They’d all had a good laugh, joined up and now Kurt is out of trouble with the authorities, stable, self sufficient and happy. Fanny and he have a comfortable lifestyle, free and easy, without debt, nude and healthy and many of their friends are of the same ilk. Fanny is now hirsute everywhere, agreeing with her husband to go au-natural and her tits while not in the huge category are mature, floppy, low hanging handfuls with pale, stubby buds on pale areolae.
Kurt’s wife left to sort out the tractor oil and stuff before garaging it, leaving him with a delightful view of her rotund backside, with creases of the tractor cushion still imprinted on it, rolling rather than swaying away and he left the young ones to continue their tasks. Yes there were extra folds, dimples and the onset of cellulite on quite a flat bum, but he loved her and was proud that some of his mates quite fancied her – he could tell by watching them watching her. Up in the loft Kurt sorted and stacked empty animal feed bags and then started to descend the ladder, he was really tired, Two steps from terra-firma his foot slipped off the rung and he fell awkwardly banging his head on a nearby post and knocking himself out.
Aisha and Atlas came to his side. He patted his grand father’s face, while she looked around for some water, but they had consumed all of that.
“I think it was a light knock, he’ll be OK in a minute,” stated Atlas confidently. “I mean he’s breathing steadily.”
“Yes but he’s old, shouldn’t we find Gan and tell her,” murmured Aisha, kneeling near Kurt’s hip and receiving a dismissive shake of Atlas’s head. She deferred to his older wisdom. “Do you know Atlas, all the years the family have been naturists and we’ve seen penis’s all over the place, I’ve never been kind of close to one, you know like this, close to Gamp’s penis.”
“Yes - I know, there is a tap in the next barn, I’ll get some water that will help him,” said her brother, trotting off.
The little brown girl watched the old man breathe and her eyes roamed his strong, wiry, wizened seventy year old frame. She noticed his receding hair line, the liver spots on his face and hands, the network of veins on the back of his gnarled, grubby hands and the way his testicles seemed to be trapped between his thighs, which she thought must be hurting him. There was no sign of Atlas’s return but dear old Gamps, who had taught them so much and had amused them in many ways, would surely appreciate a help from her. She pushed his legs apart and his lanky penis slid into the gap, joining the floppy bunch of two walnut size and shaped testicles. She filtered her hand under the whole tackle and raised it, aiming to budge Kurt’s legs together.
“What are you doing Aisha?” gasped Atlas, carrying a discarded lemonade bottle half full of water.
“Just helping Gamps get comfortable that’s all,” she replied nonchalantly, still holding Kurt’s penis. “His testicles were hurting him.”
“That’s stupid, how do you know? Did he tell you they were hurting, you can’t just touch them when you feel like it.”
“I know that stupid,” she retorted, staring at the flaccid warm bunch in her hand. Something was happening. “Look, I mean --”
“Wow!” exclaimed Atlas. “Put it down, leave his penis alone, here let me give him some water.”
The lad knelt down to lift Kurt’s head as his sister obediently laid the gradually growing appendage down and patting it as if she was putting it to rest, with a concerned motherly expression. Funny thing, she puzzled – it wouldn’t lie down. She stared at it as Atlas managed to get water into Kurt’s mouth. The fussy girl that she was patted Kurt’s penis again in an attempt to soothe what looked to be an angry growth, there was a purple coloured slit tip appearing, which was now starting to raise itself from where she’d tried to lay it on his belly. The water had had some effect on the old chap, as had the rather nice administrations to his cock and when the feelings connected to his brain, he realised it was his darling grand daughter who was handling him. Fuck! Did she know what she was doing? Surely not, but what are you doing Kurt? Let her carry on? Fuck it was so nice.
“Cripes look at it now Aisha,” giggled Atlas. “How have you done that?”
“I don’t ... I didn’t do anyth ... Wow!”
“Now that looks like it might hurt,” said Atlas sternly, bending towards Kurt’s groin.
His grand father could sense the lad’s hot breath on his now solid erection, but more excitingly Aisha was lightly fingering the big ridge along the underside of his shaft. Knowing where both of their eyes were focussed, Kurt dared opening his, just enough to see through the blur of his eye-lashes, her delicate brown fingers with pink under layers, tracing a course down to his balls.
.... There is more of this story ...