Another wonderfully sunny day - and tonight comes Phillip. I hope in every meaning of the word. I will do my very best.

Last night I had a very long talk with Tanja, till after midnight, and I can say that we have made it up. More than that: I apologized for how rashly I had acted. And I cried a little when I heard her story - I think for the suffering which people can inflict on other people. And we embraced, and, yes, I ate several pieces of her cake. I'm trying to write down the story of her life as good as I can. That is what she told me.

When her mother became pregnant from a paying customer, she did not know which one was the father - there were too many. She interrupted her business for the time she gave birth to a baby daughter - and before she went on, she deposed the newborn child with her mother, a devout Catholic widow who was living in a fairly remote Alpine valley of Tyrolia. So Tanja grew up with her grandmother, who wanted to do everything possible to keep her grand-daughter from the fate of her mother, who - in her words - had become the devil's bride. Grandmother called her Liesl, from Elisabeth, because she thought Tanja was not a good Christian Austrian, but a whore's name.

Liesl had little contact with other people, her grandmother taught her at home, and the curriculum mainly consisted of religious text. Like this, grandmother hoped to save Liesl from losing her soul, too. When she started to menstruate, Liesl didn't tell, because she thought this was the illness her own mother was suffering from - if she had been born by the "seven-horned Scarlet Whore of Babylon", this red stuff coming from between her legs had to be the sign of evil.

She told the village priest with whom she had some mathematics and language lessons, and - so said Tanja - he gave her Tampax, but his behaviour towards her changed considerably, when he noticed she was a child no longer, although she would not tell me how. This went on until she was about 15 years old - a fate not untypical for remote areas in our country, and I am not sure if there are not some children today who still suffer under their religiously bigoted families in a similar way.

In the last few days I was overwhelmed by your responses to my offer of registering you as official Alpinists - "People who love things Alpine and would enjoy climbing them". There was one inquiry after another, and I can proudly announce that we have already - yes, how many? - seven members. So when Hollywood is going to do the next remake of "Snowwhite and the Seven Vertically Challenged People" (we still call them dwarfs here in Austria), we can apply. Because of our number, of course, not because of sizes - it's very much the opposite: your sympathy, support and sense of humour is gigantic, if anything.

This morning my girls asked me at school: "On which side are you in the dress-code war, Miss Alpina, on ours or theirs?" - "Well, what do you think?" I asked back and thought it was obvious. They looked at me, and looked at me, my business suit, by white blouse, my simple, comfortable shoes... Finally one of the girls sighed and said, in a small voice: "On theirs." Outch !

Ambitious Annette thanked me this morning, but said it would be much nicer if I didn't hand my answers to her letters to her at school, but if I sent them by mail, too. And she handed me a pile of envelopes, all in a beautiful sun-flower yellow, with her address on each and a postage stamp. I have to admit: Annette is efficient, and she knows how to reach her goals.

PS: No invitation to jacuzzi tonight.

PSPS: Tanja will come and see me after dinner, and she promised to bring some peace-making-cake along. But will I want to eat from it?

It is spring soon and many people feel it in their bodies and souls. But this beautiful season can also bring about some problems, like in our school. Unfortunately, it does not only make the snowdrops, primula and daffodils grown, but also produces bare midriffs and visible belly-buttons. And it makes the panties grow out of the girls' low, low jeans (which can't be worn, according to a trustworthy source, without shaving one's pubic hair.)

Now the governors of our school are not pleased with this, and so they published a number of pictures on the school homepage that highlight all the big NO-NOs on the premises, like the one above.

Then the storm started. Some female students thought the picture had been clandestinely made on our premises and complained about teacher voyeurism. Some other women said this was sexist and primitive. Some others again thought it was their business what they wanted to wear and stated to be more provocative. The headmaster seems to have sent out some watchdogs to look for visible panties, and some girls asked them if they should take them off and hand them in.

Well, I thought I was glad that it was not me in the picture, because my thongs are always black. But I made a mental reservation that I should be more careful when sitting down, or maybe go without panties more often, like yesterday. This would solve my problem most elegantly.

Meanwhile, the fight will go on.

There seems to be nothing a true Alpinist is not willing to do for me - and I appreciate this immensely. Some people sent me their full home addresses to give to my student, Ambitious Annette, so that she has someone to write her English letters to, a pen pal, so to speak. I think this is a famtastic idea, which only has one major drawback: it is outright impossible that I give a 17-year-old girl and student of mine the addresses of some gentlemen one or two generations older than she, and who I met on an erotic site. This does not mean that I doubt your good intentions, by all means - but if anyone found out, it would cost me my job for sure. But thanks all the same.

Something has finally happened which I have expected for some time, but which I have left open until someone would want to know: what is my real, deep down fantasy, if it is not having sex at the top of that mountain? I can say it here, and I will say it here - one of these days. I am afraid that you may be shocked - because it still shocks me: actually I am deeply troubled when it comes up again, not only excited. So I promise you: you will be told in time.

Today I will try to contact Tanja. It was the wish of one dear Alpinist friend (see March, 9). I will try to get in contact with her and listen to her side of the story. In a way I miss her lively personality and the mischief she is always up to, on the other hand, I always felt a little uneasy with her because I was afraid she would draw me into something I was not up to. But I'll try to be open and unprejudiced.

This has not happened for a while, but today was the first totally sunny day for a long time, and you could really think that spring has finally arrived. There is hardly any snow left here, it has drawn back to the mountain tops, and the snowdrops (Galanthus nivalis) have pushed up and are in full bloom in my garden. This made me a little light-hearted and frisky this morning, so for the first time in this season I decided to venture off into the beautiful day without underwear.

If I were a true NN-insider, I would call it "going commando" - but I think this is much too military a term for such a tender enterprise. I put on my garter and expensive soft silk stockings and over that just my white blouse and dark-blue business suit, and some make-up and jewellery. Nobody would notice, although someone told me once you could see it from my delicate way of walking. Still, it is a private pleasure I enjoy a lot and which gives me great amounts of good feelings.

A little problem was just that I had misjudged the temperature from behind the window panes - when I stepped outside and walked to the bus, I noticed that it was not much above freezing, and it stayed like this all day. But I had my warm coat, and an equally warm feeling, so I was sure there was no ice forming in the wrong places. All day was pure bliss, and spring can now come - full throttle, please ...

Emptying my postbox yesterday, I found a letter which looked quite unusual; the envelope was red and my address was hand-written. I was even more surprised when I saw who it was from. A student of mine had sent it, Ambitious Annette (that's what I call her here, in German, her surname alliterates with the word "Ehrgeiz" for English "ambition". She is 17, one of my third-year English students, and she works very hard, although she is not always very successful.
Lately (see March, she had cried when she had got back her English essay, and I had advised her to write English more regularly to stay in training (the way I do it here on NN). Now she has sent a letter - to me, in English. She says she does not know anyone to send English letters to, but me, and if I minded her doing this regularly.

Do I mind? Basically yes, because it is not very professional to have a regular correspondence with a student. On the other hand, I made her cry with my assessment and advised her to write, so I cannot be too harsh on her. What to do and not hurt her feelings too much?

What I will do is the following: Today in class, I will tell her that she can go on writing if she likes, but I will keep my answers short and tell her how to further improve her writing skills. If she can agree with this, there should be no problem, and the red envelopes can keep coming.

I love people with a good sense of humour - it makes life so much more pleasant and easier. So thanks for your applications to become Alpinists - the confirmation of your membership will reach you in due time. Please wear my button with pride and a twinkle in your eyes ...

As I mentioned yesterday, we were travelling to see Phillip's parents, and I knew from my Christmas experience that I would get laid again in his childhood bed, and that this would give him some special pleasure - maybe to make up for ever so many frustrations masturbated over in his younger years. Last time he told me again and again to be quiet while pounding into me fairly ferociously - boys always remain boys in the presence of their mothers.

But your Alpina can be a little devil sometimes - so I decided that this time I would shout with lust while my orgasm was washing me away - and I would make it a particularly loud shout. And so I did.

You cannot say that the family treated me badly when I came to breakfast on Sunday morning. No, they were all very civil to me, even friendly. In the course of the morning mum once spoke of the importance of her children being married and having decent and appropriate partners (two brothers and a sister are aready married, and even happily). Dad mentioned if someone like Phillip was on to a brilliant career it was important that he should not let private feelings of any kind keep him from his goal. But there were ever so many smiles to sweeten the messages.

Only Phillip pouted. And on the way back he punished me with a longer silence, because I had defied his strict order to have my orgasm quietly. But I - I must admit - had to laugh inwardly: even he has to learn that one cannot have everything at the same time. Maybe it's time I start teaching him a little.

I have my foolish and giggly moods now and then, like yesterday when I called my friends and readers Alpinists, as a little play on my nick Alpina. I have chosen this because I am from an Alpine region in Austria, and an Alpinist - according to a dictionary - is someone who likes climbing things Alpine. So would this not be appriopriate? LOL.

I have thought we could do the following: if you want to become a true and registered Alpinist, then message me and you will be put on the official member list. This entitles you to print and cut out the button below, to stick it on a piece of cardboard and proudly wear it.

Anxiously waiting for your interest,
Alpina

We left on Saturday before 3 pm., because it is a long drive to Phillip's parents. It is Dad's birthday today, so the whole family met again like at Christmas (see Dec, 26), and also Angelika, who I had not seen for weeks, was there. It was a long drive, and so there was no chance of escaping a conversation, and Phillip began with something which has haunted our conversations and particularly Phillip's imagination for some time.

Some of you who read me regularly, who are true Alpina aficionados - Alpinists, so to speak (isn't that a cute name for my most faithful readers: Alpinists ), well, Alpinists may remember that I once compared fantasies with Phillip (Jan, 17). He said that before he left in summer, he would climb with me that mountain I could see from my window and make love at the top if this was my deepest fantasy (what does he know).

And as he had said, he would love to have sex with me and another woman, a young girl actually, who we would kind of seduce together. And if I knew someone already and had asked her. And he said again how very much this fantasy came up ever so often and it was so great that I was willing to help him realize it.

I did not say I would, and I did not say I would not, and I wonder if it is really such a good idea.

I had a complaint yesterday: My blog entries were more and more difficult to understand because readers needed previous knowledge to follow my narrative. This is maybe true - I break one of the most important rules in publishing or television, namely that you should be able to enjoy each volume or see each sequel, even if it's the only one you see or read. So my blog defies the rules of the soap opera or the telenovela - but my dear readers, I hope you can live with it. Maybe I should introduce some cross references for some topics, but then this is far from being a scientific text, it's just my secret diary, in which one blow-job follows the previous orgasm - so to speak.

So I met Ruth last night (see March, . How many of you think it's shocking when a 75-year-old, ordinary woman finds herself a younger lover because she is often so horny and her husband does not care (or know)? Honestly, would you not be shocked if you knew it was your own granny?

Ruth has a lover and she enjoys him enormously. This is of course not everything she wanted to tell me, but still it was burning on her tongue. She told me, she said, because she trusted me so much - she knew I would not tell others (!) and she just had to have someone to talk about it. So in spite of an age difference of almost 40 years - two generations - we had a sweet, intimate girls' talk on an equal level, and we could hardly stop giggling while comparing lovers and their physical advantages.

I think this is wonderful - our age difference just vanished into thin air, and we became together what we basically are - two horny girls who were sharing experiences about how to get what they craved for most.