It is a pity that I have to keep my blogs short - sometimes there is so much to tell that the bare facts spoil the overall picture. Because what went on last night could easily fill a few pages. As I have to leave for school soon anyway, I'll just relate now how the evening began.

You may remember that my friend Elsie's developing sexuality and desire to experiment had led her to find someone on the internet who might love to come to our Jacuzzi session and have some fun with us. For last night she had invited a couple who had advertised themselves on a local erotic site, even with a picture, and from their description and their looks, they seemed nice enough.

They arrived exactly on time, and the first thing we noticed was that they must have shaved off their hair lately - as we saw later, in fact all their body hair. While he was totally bald, she was letting it grow back, but it was just about two centimeters long, and blond. While he looked and kept himself like a soldier, she definitely had the air of an ancient Madonna. Both were in their early forties, they were suntanned and looked very fit and healty.

We didn't want to plunge in medias res immediately, but get accquainted first with the help of a drink, so we sat down in the living-room and began to chat amiably; they were open and pleasant, so all was looking good. When Joerg mentioned the Jacuzzi, however, the husband, Ferdinand, suddenly asked: "Would you love to see my wife first?" And he told her in a rather harsh voice: "Undress for the ladies and the gentleman, and show yourself."

So Erika took off all her clothes, and when Ferdinand told her to step closer to us, she did so, but she visibly avoided any eye contact with us. She came so close that her perfume tickled our noses. There was not a hair on her smooth and tanned body. "Show the gentleman how wet you are," he commanded, and Erika stepped very close to Joerg and took his hand, and before my flabberghasted friend could react in any way, she pushed his finger deep into her pussy.

Oh, Oh, I thought, as surprised as the others by this sudden development, this was going to be nice - and I honestly wondered how my innocent friends were going to deal with what was waiting for them.

I have just come back from a meeting with all the German teachers of our school - we were invited in one of them's house and enjoyed a lot of good food and drinks. We discussed new books, and our colleagues from other faculties, and we told each other anecdotes about strange and funny students, whatever teachers do when they meet privately. It was an utterly unerotic event, but we laughed a lot and got to know each other better, so that we will be more of a team at school.

When I came home from school I had a piece of paper in my letter box: it was from Elsie and she informed me that tomorrow the couple she has invited to our Jacuzzi evening will appear and if I could also bring some food along. I won't have much time for that, but I am certainly wondering what it is going to be like. Hopefully not such a failure like last Thursday's attempt. We'll see - and you'll hear of it for sure.

Last night, after getting everything ready for work and writing my blog, I was too tired again to do something useful and too excited to sleep, so I activated Yahoo Messenger - after not being there for many weeks. In the past there were times I was there almost daily; there were quite a group of people I met regularly, and I have to admit I really experimented with the medium. I had my limits, though, a few things which were not to my taste at all. I for example didn't activate my camera for very long - people constantly begging me to undress just depressed me too much. Even people who were perfectly nice could not restist the temptation to ask, and eventually to humiliate themselves. As I am not one who feels any pleasure whatsoever while displaying my anonymous private parts, I gave the camera away.

I also experimented with sound - but the never ending "slap - slap - slap - oh, Alpina, oh, oh" made me laugh if anything. I finally stayed with the good old typing, and there were many wonderful people who accepted me this way. Typing seems the only way to force people to use their minds in communication, and this was what made many of these conversations rather sexy.

I was always ready, though, to look at people's cameras if they felt like showing - and for many men this really seems to be gratifying, even for the perfectly nice ones. I always made a point, however, of guys taking off their undershirts, because my feeling is that there is almost no bigger turn-off than a man masturbating in his white fine-rip undershirt, be it on camera or in real life. What I am ready to look at is bodies, the more athletic the better, and even more pleasant if there is also a visible face attached to it.

Because Yahoo Messenger and Chat are such a mess nowadays, the olden times have certainly gone. And so I have unfortunately lost contact with many of my regular chat partners. Only some have come over with me to NN and begun reading my blog. But yesterday, when I turned on Messenger, there soon were some old friends contacting me, and very soon, too, I was required to accept their cameras. And for old time's sake, I did so, and watched some hardness develop and vanish again when it was spent, while talking amiably. Oh, the power of words ...

Just between you and me - I didn't only fake an orgasm on Sunday, I also pretended to be ill on Monday and Tuesday and didn't go to school. My visit at Maria's had left me no time to do all the work I was supposed to do on this last weekend before the special week in the mountains and the following holidays. I had planned to correct two tests and an essay, and on Sunday evening I was so worn out I could not even prepare my five Monday lessons.

Now I could do most of the work I had planned, but not all. I didn't feel so well in the last two days - my stay with Maria had been overtaxing my strength. On Monday morning I just felt I could not stand before all those students and have their eyes rest on me - full of expectation that I might entertain them adequately. Instead I buried myself in my house, didn't answer the phone and took a long time to compose my blogs and to read some friends' messages. I started crying a few times for almost no reason: for the beauty of words, for Maria's hardship, for having been a fake.

Now I feel definitely better: I have eaten some food, I have prepared tomorrow's lessons, all is ready for me to go out again. I have also chosen tomorrow's clothes, so that I will not have to take too many decisions early in the morning. I am almost sure that all will be back to normal and I will function again perfectly.

We did make love - Maria and I - on Sunday morning and again in the late afternoon. But I must admit: it was different. The last two times we had made love it had been like a hurricane - there had been so much energy we set free that we got to the brink of xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx and back. We tore into each other like lionesses, that was the word I found last time, and we strained our bodies to utter exhaustion.

I must also admit: it was her charisma, her energy, her air of superiority I found particularly erotic. If you are a regular reader of mine, you know this meanwhile. What makes my body especially responsive is a mixture of imagination, intelligence and charisma in my sexual partners - people with authority who I feel are stronger than me. I am quite a strong woman myself - maybe stronger than most - but the few I recognize as undisputedly superior - they really do it for me, like Phillip and Maria, who can make me lose my mind. When they are old, like the late Friedrich, and I think I have to mention the Editor, they make me want to be their loving daughter and their daughterly lover - and I am ready to give them all the pleasure they can feel with me and this makes me happy.

Maria's and my body were glad to meet - they know each other so well. So tongues and hands easily found what was yearning for them - and everything was good. Or almost - and it made me ashamed - because this was not the Maria which makes me lose my senses, who demands my full attention and care to give her all the pleasure she wishes, who makes me become all body and instincts. It was a Maria I cradled in my arms and tried to make feel good, who was shaken by orgasms in my arms and whose soul I might have managed to touch. But when she licked me the way she had sent me to heaven before, I just felt warm and wet and relaxed - but not more.

That's why we did it again later - Maria wanted to, she could not be happy if I had done so much for her and she had not even given me a good and deep orgasm. And she applied her fingers and her tongue to all the right spots, and she took a lot of time, and it felt really, really good, and when the wonderful orgasm washed over me which she had so much wanted to give me and was now so pleased she had achieved it - I only had to fake it a little.

I have just noticed that I have been writing my blog for a year - it's some kind of a birthday today. So many things have happened in this time. Thanks, my dear friends and readers, for coming here again and again. "You are a good person, Alpina", is what a friend of mine wrote in his message today. Oh how much I'd love him to be true, but as readers of my blog you can see that I often try in vain. But at least I try. Or I am thinking of trying.

I have tried to be good to Maria. During the day I found out that she won't go back to work for two weeks. After a heated argument with her boss she was given a time-out and some advice to have a rest and calm down. I hadn't thought it was so serious. Towards 10pm on Saturday she finally let me take her into my arms. Before I had cooked some light dinner, but she had not eaten much, and neither had I.

When I had undressed her and started to massage her all over, she began to cry. Soundlessly, he tears were just welling from her eyes. They came from a very tormented heart. I gently rubbed her legs and arms, her breasts and sides, and she was just very quiet and went with my hands. I didn't stop until she had fallen asleep. I undressed too, and tried to warm her with my body. She slept like a baby in my arms, and I listened to her breath until I fell asleep, too.

Maria is what we call here a career-woman: she is on the board of a fairly big and innovative company, is doing a great job and appears to be a very strong, self-confident, even charismatic personality - one you will easily accept as superior when you meet her, but you will probably decide to challenge and to fight her when you are ambitous and want to get to the top, too. She is always immaculately dressed, looks healthy and strong, at the same time very feminine, and her life-style is adequate: a wonderful flat, a flashy car, hours at the gym - and she is also the center of a lot of social activities.

Over the weekend I have noticed how hard it must be for her to be where she is. If you are always strong, always successful, always beautiful and always at the top, your life is bound to be difficult and even lonely. I did not find out what exactly had happened to bring her in such a state. It seems that financial experts who had been called in to scan the performance of the company had found fault with some of her measures, that rivals in the company had leaked information to the public, that her self-confidence got a setback, that she was suddenly feeling incompetent and unattractive. My impression is that she suffers from what we call "burn-out syndrome" in the teaching profession: too much emotional output and hardly any input to stabilize and balance the personality.

It's not that I found her crying and disshevelled - on the contrary: she has not looked so young, fragile and vulnerable for a long time. But it is as if a switch has been turned somewhere. Her charisma, her strength and her air of superiority have - at least temporarily - left her. Instead there is a strong and unusual feeling of melancholy, even of sadness - and ultimately of failure, the idea that she has come to a point when everything has become too much and when she will never be able again to come to an important decision.

Maria lives alone in her big and wonderful flat. She does not meet her relatives very often as they live some distance away. She has friends and colleagues she spends time with, but I always had the impression that they were part of the competitive crowd, too, each one desiring to look better and be fitter and more attractive and more successful than the other. Noone to really lean back with and to be able to appear weak for a moment.

I think in this respect I am her closest friend. And at the same time I am what little sex life she has. She has always said that she is a woman of few desires and that she could be without sex for months without suffering. At the same time she can be such a wonderful, passionate lover, as I have experienced myself. I am not a psychologist, but I don't think it is good to deny yourself a healty sexuality and to transform all your energies into professional success.

I was not surprised that she shied away from being touched when I met her and that she wanted to talk first and foremost, and that's how we were spending all of Saturday together.

LOL, Juicy, do you think there really are such people on NN? Besides shy Gio, I mean? But I am sure he'd be much nicer and we'd have had a lot of fun with him. The reason why Elsie can't have met him here of course is that neither Joerg nor she speak more than a few words of English. That's why I have never shown them this site: they would not understand a word. Well, it's maybe quite good they cannot read my blog - they might not be altogether pleased.

I won't be home for the next two days. When I came home from school today, I had an e-mail from Maria. (For those who do not know Maria and what she means to me, it might be useful to use the search function of your browser now and read all my blog entries about her - some are pretty sexy).

The message seems kind of urgent; she asks me if I can come and see her over the weekend, she needs my support because she isn't too well at the moment. So I've dropped all my plans (it wasn't much anyway) and I'll travel to her place early tomorrow morning. I don't know what made her send for me, it appears like some kind of emergency, and not just that she can't wait any longer to see me. I mean: if she hasn't had any sexual contacts since last time we met, there might have been some tension building up. In her situation, I would have burst a long time ago and possibly whatever stranger would have come down my alley. Presumably even Gio, had he been one of the random passers-by.

No, her message sounded quite serious, and if I can be of any help to her, I'll be with her and support her as much as I can. I'll console her if she needs consolation, I'll take her in my arms if she needs a hug, and I'll give her the best orgasm in the world if she cares for any distraction of this kind. She can certainly count on me.

I'll have to be back by Sunday night, though, and I'll tell you how I found her - and how I left her...

I went to Joerg and Elsie's directly from work - there were a few things to get ready and Elsie was pretty excited. Actually, she felt to be right the center of all the excitement because she had been the one who had found the guy she had invited for today on an erotic site which contains contact ads. He was supposed to be part of our Thursday jacuzzi session to add a little zest to our usual threesome. She was convinced that it would be very erotic to have another man with us, a well-built stranger we would have fun with and who would make us feel more sexy ourselves.

In the end, there is so little to tell about the event that I don't even concede him a name here. Imagine an adult episode of the Mr. Bean series - that in a way sums it up. It became pretty obvious soon that he had advertised for the first time. He was neither particularly well-endowed nor used to nakedness. When we all undressed he disappeared in the bathroom, and he came out with the towel around his hips. He was obviously very hard and we would not have wondered if he had already done a little wanking.

God knows where he had his ideas from what would be going on here. Most likely from the erotic site. As soon as we were in the water, without even saying much, he reached over and squeezed Elsie's breasts hard, which she stopped immediately. He was embarrassed, and our normally sexy and relaxed atmosphere could be forgotten for the evening. I tried to keep up a conversation, but he had obviously not come to talk, or had not thought that talking was an important part of our jacuzzi sessions. Maybe because noone ever talked in the group pictures and films he was usually watching.

So while we were having a conversation of our own, he was silent and a little pissed off. But when we got out he was still as hard as when he had hopped in. They had some wine and snacks ready, but we thought it might be better to get dressed first. Half way into our clothes, he finally said something: "When does the fucking begin?" We had to laugh so much we almost started rolling on the floor. He quickly got dressed himself and escaped as fast as he could, certainly very glad to leave these crazies behind.

"One failure does not mean it's a bad idea", is what Elsie is convinced. So next Thursday it will be the couple she found on the same site. My God, Elsie .....

What a lovely late summer's day it was today. I am still sitting here in my thongs and not much else after swimming before the night fell. Maybe this was one of the last of those days this year - it's getting cold and wet for the weekend.

Just something more about my uncle: his wife, our aunt Agatha, heard of the crucifiction, but never saw the mutilated body of her husband. But in her world this was already the second person who had died this way - the first being Jesus. So from now on she was sure his death had not only a sense, but that her husband had also gone to heaven after resurrection and was now God's left-hand man, while Christ being on his right. Agatha was very religious up to the end of her life, never got married again and always wore black.

Only on her death bed she told my father another story: after a number of gang rapes by Russian soldiers, she got pregnant. And she made a contract with herself: when the baby looked European, she would have it and say it was her husbands. She gave birth to a boy in a secluded place, and as she had feared, he was slant-eyed as a number of her tormentors had been. So she strangled her baby with her own hands and dug it up behind the farmhouse. So it goes.