I had a dip in my pool meanwhile, to cool down a little and get my head clear; I got worked up so much while going through my memories. Though it's not all in the mind by far: even more I remember Maria with my body - on my body - in my body. Of all the sexual experiences in my life, and there were not a few, what went on with me yesterday evening, during the night and this morning was maybe the most mindblowing one.

As soon as we entered Maria's house, I lost consciousness, which just means that my body, every nerve and fibre, took over from my mind and I was all feelings and insticts, totally out of any control. When Maria virtually tore my clothes from my body. When she almost carried me to the shower and thoroughly washed me, after she had previously thrown all her clothes away. How she discovered my bald patch and lay before me on her knees while burying her head in my lap, and then eating me out and making me shout with pleasure. How her lips and her teeth gave my pussy no rest. Her full taste when I found her under her well-trimmed bush. And our hands. And our breasts. Like hungry lionesses who tear into each other - kill me or love me. Love me or kill me. But just never let it end.

Once we both cried with exhaustion, once we slept. But our insatiable bodies gave no rest. I felt her tongue in me when I woke. I had to shout, and I shook and could not stop. It must have been midnight when we lay still. In close embrace we slept.

Our body needed each other again this morning, not so desperately, but slowly, tenderly, as in slow-motion they rubbed against each other. Glowing surface on glowing surface, breast on breast, tummy on tummy, thigh on thigh. Bald pussy on hairy pussy. There are almost no words for what happened then: our orgasms came so slowly, but from so deep within, from the core of our very beings, from the center of the universe, like an earthquake in super slowmotion - we totally lost control over our bodies and were endlessly tossed from side to side. We clang to each other in order not to break into pieces, and thus we waited for the storm to abate - which it finally did, and we lay and listened to it disappear, stammering words and panting like marathon runners.

Then we ate something for the first time in a day, and with sane minds we spoke about ourselves and what had happened to each of us. Then Maria had a board meeting, and she took me to the station in her convertible. Gladly it was not raining, so we could feel the wind on our skin.

Have you ever walked on a cloud, light and without touching the ground? As if you were floating, and nothing was important, and nothing was real? That's me today, and the sensation lingers although I am back in my familiar surroundings. I spent the night with Maria.

Yesterday morning, soon after meeting, I went flying with her. We did not jump from a mountain, as I had feared. We were rigged to the same parachute together, she was close behind me, and before us was a gently sloping meadow with was green and with some late summer flowers. You could hear cowbells in the distance, and far away was the chain of snowy mountains. I turned round doubtfully, and wanted to ask so many questions, but she just took my head between her strong hands and kissed me on my mouth - hard and demanding - and my knees got soft. Then, still holding me, she said, "Come, let's fly together", and then we made a few steps, and then it got very, very quiet - and when I opened my eyes again, the ground fell away from us more and more.

Was I afraid? Yes and no - I felt Maria's hands holding me, and her voice sounded as if everything was alright - and she told me how glad she was to be here with me, flying together, in each other's arms. We neither flew very high nor particularly long, we did a few circles while slowly approching the valley, and there were no obstacles, but just a wide, flat area on which we finally landed without any problems. Maria embraced me, while some people of the support staff were clapping their hands, knowing it had been my very first flight. And I must say I was very proud of myself.

"Let's go to my house now", Maria said as soon as we had handed all the flying material over, and her voice sounded surprisingly dark and hoarse, "let's go to where we can be alone." And that's what we did.

I have been nervous all day - naked most of the time, and sexually aroused, and I have trailed my hands over my bald patch, and felt it needed shaving again, to make it really smooth. And the vibrations of the electric shaver have xxxxxx me to masturbate, but I want to be really smooth - smooth for Maria.

Not tonight as planned, but early tomorrow I will travel to her. The weather forecast is not too bad: mainly sunny and dry. So we will go flying together - paragliding, something I have never done before. Oh, this fear.

Oh, this lust. Seeing Maria again. No-one has ever given me as much lust as she (and Phillip, my Phillip). It's the first time I'll see her again, since May 27. It's not that there hasn't been any contact: we have sent each other e-mails. Little messages about us. Messages in electronic bottles. As if we were about to drown, or starve, sometimes.

Clouds have drawn up, and there is the rumble of distant thunder. The air is electric, and so is my body, yearning with sexual desire, vibrating with lust. I will masturbate when lightning and thunder are over my house. And then I will stand naked in the pouring rain.

I thought that asking for fire was a very outdated way of getting in contact with someone, so I was surprised when Tanja walked over to two guys and came back not only with a lit cigarette but two smiling athletes in tow, who quite eagerly parked their towels next to us. They were both more than ten years younger than we, muscular and sun-tanned, and they looked as if they were quite well-to-do.

Tanja says she has a nose for wealthy people - they smell of the money they own, but what she has is a quick eye for watches, sunglasses and items of expensive clothing. We stayed at the beach for some more time, then met again in the evening for drinks in the central square of Aigues Mortes and found the two guys, who were French stockbrokers or something like that, very pleasant.

Now I had told Tanja that many years ago I had had a very sweet sexual adventure on the ramparts of the town, while I was watching the sunset with a very young latin lover I had met. So I was only mildly surprised when Tanja suddenly suggested seeing the sunset from above.

15 minutes later we were standing on the ramparts and looking over the beautiful countryside. There was a smell of the sea in the air, the salt mountains of the neighbouring Salines appeared in a reddish light. There was a soft cooling wind, as Tanja and I were standing elbow to elbow, leaning over the wall, and the two guys very close behind us. No other people were in sight, and we could not be seen from below.

I think both our skirts were lifted almost simultaneously, and our panties pulled down. Our hips were held while we were gently entered from behind, and then we savoured the most wonderful openair fuck. Four satisfied moans from four different people almost within seconds must have been the last sounds the sun heard before it sank behind the horizon.

There are some dear Alpinists who urgently desire to know more about my holidays in France, particularly what it was like to travel with Tanja. I guess there is some interest to know how far I adapted to her nyphomaniac lifestyle and particularly how close we came to each other, knowing that we both had some previous experience with the same sex. I must admit that I adpted much more to hers than she to mine.

What particularly struck me, though, is how different we are. I hadn't known this previously because the week of winter holidays we spent together meant mainly skiing. It seems to me that she is much more materialist that I am, although I do not quite know if this is the right term. While I love going for a walk for its own sake, she only does it if there is a reason or a destination. Her idea of a good time is definitely going shopping. While it is enough for me to "be", it's important for her to "have" - nice things, exciting adventures, and of course men.

So walking along the nude beach soon bored her because no-one was really watching and the walk didn't lead anywhere. Visiting places if there were no shops or people to get to know was of little interest. Places had to be chosen for their potential night life. My impression was that her idea of a nightmare is missing anything which could have come her way. So we made sure that we didn't miss much.

On the third day of eating, lying at the beach and sleeping alone, she thought it was time to really begin our holidays, why not by combining the three activities in a pleasant way? But to organize this we had to go to the clothed beach - clothed meaning being topless and wearing the smallest of thongs - to get in contact with a couple of guys who'd be good for us. And it didn't take long, of course, until she had found exactly the right ones.

Sometimes I am a little envious of my friend Beatrix who has two absolutely gorgeous teenage daughters aged 14 and 15, and I imagine what it would be like to be their mother. What would my life be like? I know they are not always easy in the family, but they have such a wondeful relationship with their Aunty Alpina, they seem to adore me as much as I adore them. I always try to bring along some present they love, usally some clothes which are in among teenagers.

When I arrive they always take my suitcase, carry it into the guest room and unpack it for me. They love holding my clothes in their hands and looking at them, and sometimes I allow them to put somthing on and admire themselves in the mirror. With special pleasure they always handle my underwear, which they place into the drawer with particular care. They have repeatedly asked me to bring them some panties like mine, and I promised I will when they are sixteen. Beatrix does not allow them anything fancy, and I agree with her - I am opposed to the sexualisation of children through clothes, too.

But for the Rolling Stones concert I made an exception: I allowed both of them to wear some of my black cotton thongs - as a little secret between the three of us. And that's what they did, and proudly so - and ever so often during the evening they looked over to their Naughty Aunty and smiled quite a particular smile.

Imagine me with two such lovely daughters - how very different my life would be. But would it also be better, that is what I can only guess.

Yesterday afternoon, the five of us took the train to Düpendorf, which is just outside Zürich, to attend the Rolling Stones Concert, to which Beatrix and his family had invited me. With us were 65'000 people who had the same destination, and they were between 10 and 75 years old. It had rained in the early afternoon, but the evening was dry, and all the spectators were friendly and peaceful. You could say it was a real family audience. The Stones played for two hours, all their hits from Jumping Jack Flash, which was their starter, to Satisfaction.

Actually, I am not that great a fan of theirs; I think I would not have gone if I hadn't been invited. My connection to the band is the vinyl record collection I inherited from my father. He was the fan, really, and so was my mother. What I also inherited from him was a 20 cm long piece of a chair, which he had saved all these years, since 1967, when at the first concert of the Stones in Zürich the audience had smashed up all wooden chairs in the hall and made a big fire at the back. Firefighters had to put out the fire while the Rolling Stones were playing on. And my Daddy had saved one piece of a chair he had smashed up himself. I can hardly keep back my tears whenever I remember this. So the concert was some kind of homage to my parents - they would be in their sixties now, and certainly be the same rock n'rollers as they always were.

So I enjoyed being with my friends, and with all the enthusiastic people who were dancing to the music, and in my thoughts with my parents who'd have been here, too, and been happy. It was really a lovely, memorable evening.

Meanwhile I am home again, and the usual silence in my house is even more silent after last night's music. Rain has set in again, and it's very cool for the time of the year, but inside I feel warm and happy.

"I hope you have enjoyed the break between the blogs", my Swiss friend Danny wrote in his message, and yes, I have. There are natural forces in me which are hard to resist - and after four days of going without, I just had to surrender. But now, my powertool of a vibrator cleansed and back in his pretty cardboard box it was persented to me in, and my head clear, I am back. And no, Danny, there is no foto of my new hairstyle, I am afraid.

First Elsie rested her head in my lap while she was lying on her back with her legs spread. I was lightly touching her cheeks and hair while Joerg shaved her carefully with a lot of lather and a blade, and he had no rest before the last curly hair had found its end. Then we changed place. And while I closed my eyes, as Elsie's hands were gently touching me, I felt the warm, wet lather between my legs and Joerg ridding me of whatever growth there had been all around my Mount Pubis. Now and then I felt his fingers enter me to carefully spread a fold, until he finally reported the deed was done.

When it was over, we tested how it felt with our cheeks, I on Elsie and Elsie on me, and Joerg on us both, and while he probed Elsie with his tongue for quite a while until she started wriggling and gently moan, his toungue darted over my clitoris just for the shortest of moments.

In two hours I will take the bus and train to Zürich. The concert will take place tomorrow and I am very much looking forward to it, and of course to seeing Beatix and her family again who have invited me. I'll take my laptop with me, but don't know when I'm online next. I wish you all a most wonderful weekend, and may your dreams come true over night.

It was lovely to see Joerg and Elsie again last night, I had really missed them after three weeks. And so our embraces were particularly affectionate when I arrived. During dinner I told them of my holiday and they of theirs, and we had a really good time and drank a lot of our favourite Italian red. When the night came, Joerg lit candles on the terrace, in the garden and all around the jacuzzi, so it looked really romantic. He also made a wonderful log fire in the outside fireplace he had built himself.

In the jacuzzi, he served us a glass of champagne to toast to the special evening and only then it dawned to me what the speciality was going to be. But it was lovely sitting in the bubbly liquid and relax; I was sitting between them and now and then felt their caressing fingers gently on my skin while I was leaning back with my eyes closed.

I didn't want to resist any longer. I'd let them do what was on their minds and just share particularly Joerg's excitiment and get along with it. And when we entered their bedroom later, after we had dried ourselves before the open fire, to chill on their big bed, I saw that all was ready. Even a kettle was there for the hot water.

The faithful Alpinists among you know what was going to come: I was going to be shaved. And that's what happened, first Elsie, and then me. So when I look down into my lap right now as I am typing here, it's an unusual sight. And when I trail my fingers over the the bald patch, it does feel good - almost too good to type. Way too good to type, actually - so let me go on telling you the story later. Afterwards ...

Because of Tanja's restlessness, our holidays were only similar to those I had spent in recent years for the first three days. We had found a romantic twin room in a little hotel in Aigues Mortes, a favourite town of mine. There is a wall all around the little place, a big square in the center with many restaurants and there is always some entertainment going on, mainly musicians of all kinds. In the little side streets, there are shops and boutiques, and there was our hotel.

In the morning we drove the few kilometers over to the beach at Les Espiquettes - my favourite nude beach which is not crowded and quite long, so you can walk along for almost an hour till you come to the bikini area, where most of the young women are, who are busy pulling their tiny garments this way and that all day so that noting escapes the scanty fabric, which constantly calls: Look here, look at me, look what I am barely hiding underneath.

I had not noticed before, but it was the first time that Tanja was at this kind of a beach - so she hesitated a little when she was to take off all her clothes. She thought everybody would watch, and was surprised when she noticed how discreet people usually are at such a place - where nudity is merely a lack of clothing. Tanja didn't really know how to feel and what to think: for her nudity had always been connected to sexuality, and this meant being looked at and desired. Her strict, religious upbringing had taught her that nudity was naughty and sinful, hence her ambiguous feelings when undressing at the public beach.

My parents had been much more liberal: both being doctors, nudity was a natural state for them, and they walked around naked in the house and garden as long as I can think back, and so did I. I remember when one summer we went swimming at a nearby lake: I was at primary school and we had gone out there with a teacher. Everyone got undressed and when I turned, my classmates were staring at me with horror. Quite naturally I had stripped naked like at home when swimming in the pool. The teacher was furious - I had to get dressed and sit there in my clothes while the others were playing in the water.

The next day, I had to appear before the headmistress because of my appearent lack of decency and my shamelessness, and my parents were called in, too. But my father took it very coolly: he said that he himself was naked under his clothes right at this very solemn moment, and so was his wife, and he would not wonder if the headmistress herself was also naked under her clothes, althought he could of course not be sure of that. The headmistress - reminded of her own withering naked body - blushed and began to stutter, and my father said if there weren't any complaints about my academic progress we'd better leave now, as some people usually worked at that time of day.

That is what I often remember when getting naked at the beach, and when I feel the sun and the wind on my liberated skin. I looked over to Tanja - she was absolutely gorgeous, and by and by she also began to enjoy the situation.