This is a story set in the 'Kaymala' world -- you should be able to read these in any order, but if interested the first episode (and the introduction of Simon) is here
It was a hot Sunday afternoon in Kaymala; the sky was deep blue and the air was balmy. Simon had a short walk from the bus stop to the hostel he would be staying at. It was a pleasant walk through the cobbled streets of Kusti, the capital city. The town was busy with people out to enjoy the sunshine, some shopping, others sat around outside cafes drinking coffees and beers. The air smelled of hot stone, flowers, and urine.
The weather gave people an excuse to strip off some clothes, and Kaymalans never passed up such an excuse. Simon couldn't help gawping -- that woman looking into a shop window, seeming not to notice her oh-so-short dress blowing up in the wind to reveal perfectly formed buttocks; or the group of women chatting outside a coffee shop without a stitch on any of them, four pairs of pale breasts glowing in the sunlight.
His hostel was not far outside the town centre, on the road that ran along the river front. It was a smallish, cosy-looking place, three storeys with balconies on the top two floors. The reviews had said it was a laid-back kind of place.
He went in to a crowded reception room. A group of tourists were just checking out, and the small foyer area was full of people and their suitcases. Simon hung back to wait for them, scanning a row of leaflets that hung on the wall: walking tours, museums, massage parlours, and other days out.
A guy came down the stairs and joined Simon in the queue. He was in his early twenties like Simon, a touch taller and more solidly built, with tanned skin. He wore shorts and a tank top.
“You're just arriving?” he said. “I haven't seen you here before.”
“Just arriving, yeah,” Simon said. “From the UK. I'm Simon.”
The other guy shook his hand. “Marco, from Spain. Your first time in Kaymala? How do you like it so far?”
“Oh, I think I could quite like it here,” Simon said, glancing through the open door to the street. A couple in their thirties were walking past, both in shorts and nothing else.
Marco followed Simon's gaze and laughed. “The girls are pretty, right?”
“How about you, how long have you been here?”
Marco took a second to reply, as he was concentrating on undoing the drawstring on his shorts. “Yeah, a few weeks so far,” he said. “This time. I come every year though, my cousin works here. Don't mind me, I just need a quick piss.”
He turned to piss up one of the wood-panelled walls, grinning at Simon's expression. “You look surprised, it must be your first time here.”
“I forgot where I was for a moment,” Simon said. He watched Marco's piss run down the wall and pool on the floor. No-one else in the room was paying Marco the slightest bit of attention.
“It's a good country,” Marco said, finishing up and shaking himself off. “And, they love foreigners here. You and I are like gold dust. Round here you could have any cock or pussy you take a fancy to, just tell them where you're from.”
The group of tourists finished checking out and moved aside, letting Simon and Marco move up to the counter. The girl behind the counter handed Marco a phone, which had been charging in a socket behind her, then smiled at Simon. She had dark hair, tanned skin the same shade as Marco's, and a piercing through one nostril. She wore a green dress, of the kind that looks like a baggy t-shirt that falls to mid-thigh.
“Hi,” she said, “I'm Olivia. You must be Simon, right?”
She chatted while she filled in his paperwork. She and Marco were cousins, but she had moved here from Spain several years ago.
At one point she asked, “Have you had your check-up?”
Simon nodded, and showed her the purple wristband a doctor had given him, with that day's date written on it. She grinned and flashed her own, and ticked something off on the form she was filling in.
Once the paperwork was done she handed Simon a key and said, “Come on, I'll show you around.”
The ground floor was taken up with a breakfast room and kitchen. Olivia led Simon up a flight of stairs.
“This is the main floor. Help yourself to any books you want to read,” she said, indicating a set of bookshelves against one wall. “They've all been left by people. Upstairs from here there are some single and double rooms. There's a couple of toilets up there as well, for when you need a shit, and there's a balcony. Some people up there now, if you want to join them. This room is the showers -- oh, sorry, Ingrid.”
Olivia had pushed open the door to another room, an open-plan shower room with half a dozen shower heads around the walls. There was a woman using one of the showers. She smiled at them, all ginger hair and wet boobs.
“This is Ingrid,” said Olivia, “she's Kaymalan, from the mountains up north. Ingrid, this is Simon.”
Olivia shut the door again, which Simon was slightly disappointed about, and led him across to one of the dorm rooms.
“This is where you'll be,” she said.
It was a six-bunk room. The floor was wood-panelled and discoloured in places. Every so often around the walls there were discoloured streaks running down from about waist height.
“That bed is free,” Olivia said, pointing at one of the bottom bunks. “You're with a good crowd in here, they're all cool people. Best not to leave anything on the floor,” she added, pointing to the cubby hole that was beside each bed. “If you need to piss, just go anywhere. Someone comes around with a mop a few times a day.”
“Anywhere at all?” Simon asked.
“Sure. Piss the bed if you like. As long as you don't damage anything, I don't give a fuck,” Olivia said. “If you ever need clean sheets there's some in the cupboard. Look, I'm not from around here either, and I know it can seem weird at first, but it's really so much easier, just watch.”
She pulled her dress up to waist height and peed standing. It arced forward slightly to land between them, splashing across the floorboards. Simon was entranced by the sight -- both her pissing, which had its own kind of beauty, and her vulva.
Olivia caught him watching and smiled. “You like what you see?” she asked, as her pee slowed to a dribble. “The piercing's new. Have a feel if you want to.”
Simon reached out to run his fingers along the skin around her slit, still wet with her piss. That piercing did feel interesting. He suddenly felt a spurt of fresh piss hit his hand, and pulled his hand back in surprise. Olivia laughed.
“Sorry,” she said, letting her dress fall back into place, “I couldn't resist. I should get back to the desk, I'm sure I'll see you around.”
Left alone in the room, Simon adjusted his jeans and started to unpack. He lifted his suitcase up into the cubby hole that Olivia had pointed out, which would keep it off the floor and out of anyone's pee puddles. There was a small shelf at the head of the bed, so Simon arranged a couple of books and other possessions on it, to make the bunk feel more homely.
That done, he sank onto the edge of his bed, his hand going to the inside of his jeans. He still had a solid erection. He wondered if he'd have time to jerk off without being interrupted.
Just as he was thinking that, the door opened and a naked woman walked in. It was Ingrid, the girl who had been in the shower. She carried a towel over one shoulder, and apart from that there was not a stitch on her. She was probably in her early twenties, short and thin, her skin pale and freckled. Her boobs were compact and pert, with dark, marble-sized nipples. Damp ginger hair hung to her shoulders, and made a neat triangle shape between her legs.
“Hi again,” she said. “Simon, right? You just arrived?”
“That's right,” Simon said.
“Do you have plans for the evening?” she said. “A group of us are hanging around on the balcony upstairs, if you want to join us.”
Simon tried to drag his eyes away from her boobs. “Sure,” he said, “sounds good.”
She crossed the room to one of the cubby holes and bent over to pick something out of it -- her ass was freckled as well. A moment later she straightened up holding two beers, and handed one to Simon.
“Follow me,” she said, heading upstairs. Simon followed, trying to rearrange his trousers to make his hard-on less obvious.
She led him up to the top floor and out onto the balcony. As Ingrid had said, there were a few people out here already. Marco was here, as were another guy and a girl, all of them leaning back in deck chairs. Ingrid took one of the vacant deck chairs. “This is Simon, everyone,” she said. She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes.
Simon pulled up a chair for himself as well. The other girl present waved.
“This is Camille,” said Marco. “She's only been here a couple of days, but she seems to be settling in well.”
“Good to meet you,” Camille said, her accent unmistakeably French. She was wearing a red sundress that clung to her skin, accenting her pair of powerfully-built tits. The dress came down to her thighs, and she sat with her legs spread slightly, so Simon could see a flash of white panties.
“And I'm Christopher,” said the other guy, raising a hand in greeting. He wore a pair of loose shorts and no shirt. “Kaymalan, from up in the hills.”
“I see you've met Ingrid already,” Marco said. “She's pretty, no? She's a good fuck if you have time. Very nice pussy.”
Ingrid raised her middle finger at him without opening her eyes.
“She doesn't like being talked about like that,” Camille said.
“I'm fine with people talking about my pussy,” Ingrid said. “I just don't like Marco advertising it like it's a tourist attraction.”
She leant over to pick up a pack of cigarettes from the table and lit one.
“We going out tonight?” she asked.
“Will be,” Marco said. To Simon, he added, “A few of us are gonna go hit a couple of bars tonight. You want to join us?”
“Maybe not tonight,” said Simon, “bit tired.”
“Another night, then,” Marco said. “You have to see the clubs here. Fantastic. Clothes completely optional, and the dancers …”
“You have plans while you're here?” Christopher asked Simon.
Simon shrugged. “I thought I'd see what there was to do,” he said. “Some of the museums sounded interesting, maybe, and I want to go to the beach at some point.”
“The museum of Kaymalan culture is interesting,” Camille said. “Very … interactive.”
“The beach isn't far away,” Marco said. “It's good for sunbathing. If you want to surf you have to go a bit further along the coast.”
“And there's a massage place down the road that I recommend,” said Christopher, “if you want to see what Kaymalan massages are like.”
After a while the conversation tailed off, and the group watched in silence as the sun sank lower in the sky. A pleasantly cool evening breeze was rising. There was no wall around the balcony, just a set of railings that gave them a good view of the street below and the river across the road, while also meaning any passers-by would be able to see right up to where they sat. The view of the river was beautiful, but Simon found it hard to concentrate on it, given how distracting his fellow hostel guests were.
On one side of Simon, Ingrid was staring into the distance, drawing on her cigarette. A spot of ash had landed on her right breast, just above the nipple. Her skin was just starting to pimple in the cooling air. On his other side, Camille had put on a pair of headphones and was tapping in time with whatever music it was. With each tap she twisted her shoulders, making her boobs move slightly beneath her tight dress.
Without warning, the quiet was broken by the pattering sound of liquid landing on tiles. Simon looked around. For several seconds he couldn't see where it was coming from. Then he noticed rivulets of something running out from beneath the recliner beside his. Leaning back slightly, he could see the source: a stream of urine soaking through the fabric of Camille's chair. The woman was pissing completely nonchalantly, not only through the chair but through her dress and panties as well. Simon could just see the edge of a damp patch spreading through her dress. Apart from that and the sound, he would never have known what she was doing: she continued to tap in time with her music as though nothing was happening. Her companions also showed no reaction. This, apparently, was nothing out of the ordinary.
Just as the sun was sinking below the horizon, the door to the balcony swung open and Olivia from the check-in desk appeared, a bottle of beer already in her hands.
“Yo,” she said, popping the lid off her bottle. “Christ, I'm happy to be finished for the day. It's been busy all afternoon. You guys look like you've had a productive day.”
“As productive as a holiday should be,” said Christopher, raising his bottle. She gave him a chink and laughed. She leant against the railing, pulling the hem of her dress up to her waist with one hand while she took a swig of her beer with the other. She leant forward slightly while she pissed, sending her clear, forceful stream out behind her so that it arced away from the balcony and down to the street below.
“God, I needed this,” she said. “I've wanted to piss for an hour, but I couldn't get away from the desk.”
“Why didn't you piss behind your desk?” said Marco.
Olivia shrugged. “I just don't like to be sitting in my puddle all day.” Her stream petered out as she spoke. She wiggled her bum to shake off the worst of the droplets from her slit, and wiped the rest dry on the back of her hand. “Are we going out tonight?”
“Of course,” said Camille.
“Is the newbie coming?” Olivia asked, looking at Simon.
Perhaps it was the beer Simon had been drinking, or perhaps it was being surrounded by attractive and uninhibited girls, but Simon's earlier tiredness had faded away. He nodded.
“What are we hanging around here for then?” Olivia asked. “The sun's set, it's evening. Let's go have some fun.”