[This tale spans these categories: Group, Incest, Exhibitionist, anal with some bi-sex acts. Sections within [ ] are present-day. All characters are older than 18. ]

Just a week after his funeral, Albert’s wife and golden blond daughter had given away all his clothes and were sorting through his study. Twenty-year-old Keena found a short stack of unpublished, erotic, short stories that, fortunately, she put aside for later. “Mom, look at this! Did you know Dad kept a journal and wrote naughty stories?” Still in the kitchen, luckily, she didn’t hear her daughter’s call. Keena sat in Dad’s well-worn, brown leather ergonomic chair and shifted through the pages. Mom called out that she was taking some bags to the church thrift store to make room, and quietly left.

Keena stopped at a separate section of the ad hoc journal dated twenty-two years ago. It was captioned: “My journal of my earthy overseas volunteer trip to Dumbistan in West Asia.” Though she felt a bit uneasy reading her dad’s private journal, she was titillated by the taboo treatise and couldn’t put it down.

Day One: Still reluctant to travel to the backwoods, or fields, of a tiny new split-off country on the Euro/Asia border, I only hope my turbulent nine-hour flight into Armenia will be the worst part of this annoying volunteer trip my boss coerced me into making. Even the stewardesses were homely, yet their tight, sexy asses make my dick throb as it watches them sway down the narrow aisle.

We were diverted to Kars, Turkey, about one hundred air miles short of our planned airport, or a hundred-sixty bus miles from the end of the world, I mean roads, in Armenia. The two-star hotel overnighter was decent, though far from sparkling. I hope the rest of this “voluntary” trip gets way better.

Day Two: I’m writing this by firelight since electricity doesn’t exist here — yet. The four-hour, dusty yet dank bus ride deeper into the hot and humid plains was grueling. Worse was the ninety-minute, sweaty walk, defined by my crude, penciled map, along the laughable trail after the trident road ended. Carrying a sixty-five-pound backpack was no picnic either.

I arrived at the village I was to rescue an hour before sunset. Though initially greeted with hostility and flying arrows by near-naked men with drawn bows, that changed when one of the elders recognized my “PEACE CORPS” patch. The village elders understood my pictogram letter and quickly warmed to me and my project. Nearly all the natives were dressed only in leather or leafy loincloths. Most were two flaps, front and rear, loosely tied together. Those looked like micro skirts with wide side slits cut to the twine waist. Men and women wore the same outfits. A few had no rear panels, so muscular, bare asses were shamelessly exposed. Most of the women had a similar flap tied around their chests, which loosely covered their olive-toned tits. After some excited and unintelligible greetings, one of them took me into his crude lean-to and had his twin girls clear out a corner for me. They literally made a bed for me of burlap stuffed with straw — just like the Middle Ages. Yippie!

The dad turned out to be the village head chief. He started a fire in the middle of the shed for warmth. His wife was Sofiya, but as the head chief’s wife, everyone called her Mom. Happily, the roof was vented to allow the smoke to escape. Mom boiled some water and dumped in a handful of rice and herbs for dinner. Soon afterwards, all four chattered what must have been a “good night” and casually stripped naked and slipped into the fur-skins-covered “beds.” Though shocked to delirium, I chose to sleep in my jeans. Mom’s naked beauty was a surprise, but she paled next to her beautiful twin girls, Ela and Eli. The barren scenery suddenly improved a thousandfold. My stiff cock agreed!

The naked beauty of the three women made me recall my initial, quick scan of the population. Skin tones ranged from jet black to olive, except for the twin ingenues next to me. They too were olive, but barely. Their luminous faces had signs of Russian beauty and reminded me of the beautiful Julie Benz. They were the only golden blondes in a raven-haired village and, if there were any doubt, their short but unruly pubes proved they were true blondes.

Day Three: After sunrise and a meager “breakfast” of gruel and herbs in boiled water, I got a better look at the shanty-town village. Its pastel structures and thatched sheds were built from “Kindness” drops of supplies and the wood pallets and plywood crates they came in. They used parachute cord for hinges, fishing line, and various, resourceful purposes. The largest shed had a bamboo cross hinged to the roof. When the village held “services,” they propped it up as a reminder that the structure was then a missionary church. When the cross was down, the shed was a gathering spot or the official village hall for Elder ceremonies. There were no furnishings.

I tried desperately to ignore the sight of every villager tending to morning chores stark naked. Most of the women were skeletally unattractive. As the early morning chill became a midday scorcher, more and more villagers began putting on their loincloths. My guess was that the cloths gave them some sunburn and dehydration protection for delicate areas, probably both. As villagers resumed their routines, I noted that several chores required squatting. Perhaps that was a choice. Those still naked did not sit on the ground.

Men or women who wore two flaps tucked and sat on the rear one. Though the front flaps of the squatting or seated men were short enough to stay above the dusty ground, I noted that all their dicks were also far from the ground. Some of them, and all women who wore only a front flap and chose to sit, would guilelessly slide the front flap to the rear to keep their asses clean and free of intruding gravel. They sat in circles, knees splayed, and seemed incognizant of the widely exposed tiny dicks and gaping pussies. Though all the casually exposed pink made my dick pulse, my jeans restrained it so it was not so obvious. It reminded me incessantly that it had been four long days since it had had any action other than with Rosie Palm.

Imagine my surprise when neighbors greeted each other with a hedonistic handshake. How did they learn that? Or maybe we learned it from them?! Family members often tended to hug instead. Those were lingering, meaningful hugs, groin to groin. Instead of hugs or cheek kisses, friends reached for each other’s genitals!

[Kenna was shocked at her dad’s crude comments. She didn’t know if she should be disgusted or just shrug it off with a giggle.]

Meeting a male friend required wrapping your hand around his small dick and shaking it once, or twice, but rarely more than four times — that would be sexual. Greeting a female meant, at the very least, you had to cup her mons. In nearly all cases, however, I watched men and women greet women by slipping a freshly licked finger along or between their labia. Several pushed as far inside the woman as possible, and most of those women thrust their hips forward to flatten their vulvas and clits against the greeting palm. Disguised sighs, rotating hips, and drooping lids said the greeting was enjoyable far beyond platonic! Apparently, it was customary to kiss or lick and suck that finger as you nodded your respectful greeting. My throbbing dick refused to remain silent. Maybe I should get into that custom?

[“Hmmph!” Keena was suddenly aware of a familiar tickle between her legs.]

The villagers pointed and laughed at me, still in my travel clothes. Yet after a long, voyeuristic hour, their nakedness seemed perfectly normal. The beautiful twins introduced me to their friends, who seemed offended that I didn’t greet them “properly.” The twins chuckled and squealed something, and smiled an apology to each friend for my ignorance. Each friend then stepped closer and grabbed my stiff bulge. They giggled their surprise and offered me their montes veneris.

My hips brazenly thrust forward involuntarily, and my head snapped to Ela. Smiling angelically, she nodded at the proffered mounds, and I reached out to tentatively cup both montes at once. Ela quickly slapped my left hand away. Apparently, I’d forgotten something — they used the bare-left-hand-butt-wipe practice. THAT was why it was considered rude to greet a pussy with your left hand! Makes sense.

[Keena’s hand drifted to cup her shrouded mound. It was only seconds before she realized her surprise euphoria stemmed from the sensitive flesh her fingertips teased. She imagined her dad and she greeting each other in the village tradition. It was his fingers she felt splitting her damp and swollen labia, his fingers entering her warm, wet depths, and his stiff cock swelling in her hands. Breathlessly, she returned to the inspirational journal.]

The twin beauties continued my tour. Each time we met friends, I thrust my hips forward and confidently reached around their loincloths to cup and finger their willing pussies. They were all pleased by how readily I conceded to their custom. Me too! Happily, all the men were too occupied with their labors to greet me singly.

[Ohhh, daddy! You naughty, naughty man!]

The discolored ruins and the oldest huts testified that the village had a long history — at least a hundred years. How could they survive here without help? This village in the middle of a great, arid wilderness was a testament to the hardiness of mankind — this group in particular. Ela pointed to a small creek in the distance and gibbered as though I understood. When I saw a few buckets beside the farthest hovel, I did understand. That was how they got minimal water to drink and supply the crops. Downstream was a widened area with a dozen naked bathers.

But what am I doing here? No one back home would explain why this extremely remote village of nearly four hundred was so important to this tiny, nascent country that was seceding from Armenia. Why was their water purification project worth funding by the emerging, cash-strapped country? Or was some other entity buying their favor?

Despite all the naked flesh, I hate the sweltering hot days and the bone-chilling cold nights. Just ten days here to endure, seven to go, and I get to leave it all behind, my duty fulfilled. Their local transportation were several rusty, balloon-tired bikes that they all shared. There was a bicycle attached to a cart that was just wide enough to hold two large, blue plastic barrels like those I’ve seen sold to capture rainwater. Other bikes had a large basket in back. Eli pointed to the cart, then farrrrr out in the direction of the lake. She mimed swimming fish. I mimed back and said “FISH” and mimed a hook catching them. She nodded happily and repeated “feesh.”

At least the frequently all-naked women were entertaining. They had a sensibility about nudity that didn’t match the Middle Eastern puritan mores. Though they seemed primal, they’d imported some European influence. I noted that the loincloths all came off by late afternoon when the sun was waning.

Once the loincloths were gone, the villagers continued their chores, and were especially busy in the big hut. I didn’t realize they were preparing a village “thank you” meal for me, or actually the Corps, though I hadn’t started work for them yet. Ela and Eli walked me back to their home and all the family “dressed up” for the simple, early, gratitude dinner.

Mom stripped and lingered openly before putting on a sheer sarong-type wrap that covered her head, wrapped over a shoulder, across her full tits, dropped to cross her hips to cover her dark, shapely, and trimmed bush and pussy, then fell loosely to her ankles. Bits of bare flesh showed through — one shoulder and one hip. Despite seeing her completely naked just seconds before, I still found the teasing, bare skin arousing as I stared through her sarong at her barely covered, sexy flesh. My dick waved at her, and she approached. She pulled at my shirt and slacks, then, with a coy smile, she cupped my cock and bowed slightly. What was that about?

The twins were in wraparound, well-worn, long skirts, and simple, straight, buttonless, open blue vests with translucent white tit wraps under them. Their heavy tit bulges frequently pushed the wrap down and exposed deep cleavage and an occasional nipple, which still distracted me with lusty thoughts. They rarely noticed or adjusted their “tube tops” again. Despite being covered, their tits taunted me with their succulent fullness. My dick was getting harder to restrain, but I had nothing to change into.

After a practical dinner, the gorgeous girls walked me around the back of the “town hall,” then out to a grove a short distance from the village. I didn’t know this was their version of lovers’ lane, and their incoherent babble was useless. I knew I had to teach them a few choice words.

Ela and Eli pulled me to a thick tree with heavy, low branches. I pointed to it and said, “TREE.” With childlike giddiness, they climbed to the lowest branch and flashed their perfect legs.

“Tee, ni TWEEE, ni Tehree!” Close enough. They smiled coyly, and their faces lit up. I knew they had no underclothes, but I wasn’t sure they wanted to flash bare, gaping pussies, at me so soon into our “date.” Silly, stupid me. After they settled, I approached and loosened their white titty covers, just to test the waters; they casually watched me expose their luscious tits.

As I tossed the cloths to the ground, four very full, flawless D-cups shifted teasingly and taunted me. They giggled in harmony with no concern. I further opened each blue print vest and pushed them off. Four massive mammaries projected firmly out on the two beautiful, topless young women. I pointed and lifted one each, “TIT or BOOB or BREAST.” Listing some choices, I intoned and shook each tit. They tried a few repetitions. All four nipples hardened, torqued, and grew tall as I watched. I lapped up my drool and rolled two nipples at once. “NIPPLES,” I said as I pinched them. They sighed and shifted.

“NEEPUHLZ”

Four identical, beautiful legs were nearly completely exposed for me. As they squirmed, the skirts fell farther open until, with some assist from the girls, they fell completely apart. “LEGS, beautiful legs.” Identical, wiry, pale brown/golden bushes thrust closer for my inspection and hopefully immediate gustation. After I overlapped their closest legs to spread their lovely labia, I climbed slightly from my grounded view to suckle on each succulent nipple.

They were certainly not as innocent as their youth implied. Who knows what the age of consent is here or would be in the new country, but I was certain they were nearly twenty, and recklessly didn’t want to know otherwise. Ela giggled as I sucked Eli’s tit, then gasped when I switched to her hard nubbin. Apparently, her carnal urges were also begging satisfaction; she came quickly. After I dropped to the ground, I pulled Ela’s legs onto my shoulders and stared briefly into the lovely, fleshy, fragrant abyss under her untamed bush. I buried my face, my tongue, into the freshly wet cavern and drank her tangy nectar; using my fingers, I explored inside her hot flesh, unfurled her engorged clit hood into the cooling air, and teased the pearly prize within until she orgasmed breathlessly.