Alpina's Blog - page 98

Christmas Dinner at my school - I was invited although I had not been there for some time because of my sabbatical. I half persuaded Phillip to come along, half did he come out of his own interest to see what my workplace is like and who the people are who work with me. It was very pleasant to meet my colleagues again and that I was not altogether forgotten. The food was very nice as usual, the speeches short and funny - just the news that the funding of our school gets worse and worse although our economy virtually booms put the usual shadow of gloom over the festive party.

People were surprised to see me with Phillip. I must have looked very proud of him, and from his smug smile I saw that he was proud, too. So we obviously looked like a COUPLE very much - a very good-looking one, as some people hastened to express. For my colleagues this was new - I had always been the die-hard bachelorette, sexually approachable but rather cutting and ironic towards people who did this clumsily. There were numerous guys in the room I had slept with before. And now this - happily smiling Alpina linking arms with a good-looking Phillip who didn't leave her side all evening.

And how did I feel - besides HAPPY? Awkward, in a way - because until now I was used to getting flirtatious and predatory looks all the time. I was the woman there was a slight chance to take her home after the party. For this it was worth trying one's best to woo her. Yesterday I just earned many neutral looks, some surprised stares, some quietly mocking and very few jealous ones - maybe the way a flashy car is looked at, of which the onlookers know that it belongs to some proud owner.

Thoughts are milling in my head. Phillip wants me strong, independent - a woman who makes her own decisions and lives her sexuality freely.

I have made my own decision to love him strongly and to live my sexuality freely with him. It's my own, independent choice to do so.

But there is something wrong with that. Because if I do what I want most, it seems that I appear to lose my independence in his eyes.

There is nothing worse than an order like "be independent", because it robs me of exactly that.

Is there a solution? Maybe ask him what to do exactly to appear independent to him? So that he can plan my independence for me?

Looking at NN pictures - which does not happen that often - I notice how many more females show their faces than males. Are we women the courageous sex then? Maybe we are - and more daring and more showy and all.

At second thought - deducting those possibly few who really don't mind showing their faces and stand to their naked bodies and those pictures who are obviously recycled from the net - there must be a fair amount of women who do not know that they are posted here for all to leer at and masturbate to or over - while pornographic comments are poured over them.

Sometimes I look at their innocent and unsuspecting faces - the love in their eyes when they show their naked bodies to their husbands and lovers, this gesture of intimacy and trust, as a token of their love.

And I imagine how they would feel if they found out or were told by someone gleeful that their intimacy is displayed here for the world to see - maybe with a female nick and the demand that the guys may please cum over them and comment.

But even if I know this happens, I must admit that I feel a strong attraction to these intimate pictures of beautiful innocent people. This is the strange charm of a real amateur site - where women show their bodies for love's sake, and not for money's.

I first thought I would delete last night's blog - it came out very graphic indeed under the influence of too much Italian Barbera and too many emotions - but then: why should I only write when I am sober?

Why should I only write when I am happy?

Because in spite of all of yesterday's bliss, I finally felt unhappy and lonely - after a serious conversation with Phillip. We were naked and in bed, but still ... He loved my body, he said, my unashamed sexuality, my imagination, my mind - but he disliked me gradually suffering from girl-friend syndrome - which is concentrating all on him and waiting for him during the week instead of living my life. This would make me boring sooner or later.

What had particularly attracted him to me, he said, was my freedom, my independence, the way I lived my sexuality. They way I liked to be a good fuck because I enjoyed it, not because I wanted to serve. He had always been looking for a strong woman - and if I went on like that I would turn sub before long. And he was not really fond of that - there was no challenge. We had to win each other again and again, he said, it had to be an exciting game for both. And so on.

All these sports metaphors - while talking about us. What does a man know about a woman who loves?

What a wonderful morning this was - after yesterday's big snowfall there was bright sunshine - and everything looked like winter wonderland. Phillip and I went for a walk, hand in hand, through the snowy forest. It was so peaceful and quiet, snow was glimmering on the fir trees, and from far you could hear the bells of the church calling people to sunday service.

Yesterday late afternoon: when I could not sit still anymore, I took a shower, and when I left it, the doorbell rang. Phillip was standing out there, finally. I opened the door the way I was - naked - and we kissed under the door while snowflakes were melting on my hot skin. We kissed and kissed - and I thought I was about to faint - my body vibrated in his arm, I was totally, utterly on fire.

We had just closed the door when my knees did not carry me any longer - I will tell it here as I cannot tell it anywhere else: on my knees I opened his trousers and took out his cock, which was enormous and hard. I held it with two hands so that I did not fall - felt it pulsate and throb and held it and held it - and then I started to suck it like a madwoman who was starving, and when he came, I had such an enormous orgasm myself without even being touched that my body shook wildly and I moaned like demented while swallowing and swallowing, and shaking and moaning and swallowing - I thought I was going to die there and then.

Phillip finally picked me up and carried me to my bed - and so a weekend of love began - I am alone now, drinking some wine, maybe a little too much even - but when I sit very still I can feel my center throb and notice that I am more than a little sore.

What I wanted to talk about with my friends Elsie and Joerg is the obvious: although they are maybe the people I have told most about me and Phillip, they have never actually met him. What when he stayed with me - how would it change the relationship between the three of us? Could I take him along to jacuzzi night? Would he like it - would be even understand? I must admit I am a little apprehensive, and - as I noticed - so are my two friends.

I think I have mentioned before that we are very close. We have known each other since High School and meet regularly. We are not at all shy of each other - on jacuzzi night we are often naked and we also touch freely. We just decided years ago - when they were married - that any skin surface contact was fine, but none of my cavities were to be entered by Joerg. This has made for many a gratifying erotic contact - although penetration and blowjobs were out of the question - but what to do now? Trying to include Phillip (who does not know so far)?

Joerg was not so pleased with the idea: who would touch whom then? He who thought it cute when we two girls touched could not imagine being touched be a guy. And he didn't like the idea of his Elsie being touched by another guy, either. So should we sit in the pool like two middleclass couples - even in their swimming gear as many do? What a loss - we agreed.

Finally we decided I would invite them over once when Phillip was here so that they could meet him. And then we would see how everything developed.

There is such a storm outside - wind and snow - the radio says the roads up the Arlberg Pass are blocked and there are hurricane gales on the montain tops. My wooden house is creaking and rattling.

Re-reading yesterday's blog I must admit it does sound pretty insane - but I suffer from such bouts of insanity lately - I guess you can call them love. When all my body aches for him, when my inside tingles and wants to be touched - when even touching myself does not heal my burning desires - then I am bound to write things like that. And Saturday, when we meet again, is still so far away - it's only tomorrow.

I was glad I could meet Elsie and Joerg last night - they are such level-headed people and understand me well. Angelika did not join us in the jacuzzi yesterday, so they could listen to me telling my tale. And the more I told them, the more I felt how I could relax and win some distance to my troubled self again.

It was ever so sweet to notice how what I told them visibly inspired their own feelings. Already in the pool they could hardly leave their hands from each other. And when we were chilling out on their big bed, Joerg, who had been spooning with Elsie all along, entered her gently from behind. Elsie put her head on my thigh and sighed with pleasure, while I was sitting there on the gently rocking bed, with a glass of Ialian Red in my hand, and looking at my two best friends who never stopped to amaze and please me.

So I spontaneously invited them to a spaghetti and wine dinner tonight at my place, and I'm quite looking forward to being with them. And there is something I would like to talk about with them.

What makes us love a person? What makes me love Phillip? What makes me want to concentrate on him, wait for him, long for him, lust for him? What makes me not to notice others anymore? Why do I only have eyes, a heart and a body for him? For him alone?

It's MAGIC - I could say, if I believed in fairy stuff. But I don't - I believe in science, in chemistry, in physiology. So the question might be: what does my body want from him?

Babies? Do my genes want to breed? They have already made me get rid of condoms and be ready for impregnation, it seems.

Or is it intellectual stimulation? I can but admire him for all he knows, for all he can do, that he is so much more intelligent than me. He can entertain me on end, he knows my decisions before I know them. He never loses an argument.

Or is it Lust? My clitoris does not want anyone anymore but him it seems. He is the one who can give pleasure, it's him who takes me to heaven and back. My skin burns from his touches. My knees go soft, and all my inside melts and grows liquid under his eyes.
I must feel his skin against mine, I must have his male scent in my nostrils, I must taste his cum on my palate, I must feel his hardness deep deep in me.

It's so nice to know, Monstertruck, that someone is waiting for my updates. I'll try to keep them up when I am at home and alone.

You're so right, Flcamfan, with your advice. That's why I phoned the hotel this afternoon and cancelled my stay. I must admit I was touched when they said how sad they were not to have me and how everybody would miss me. Late afternoon sessions in the jacuzzi would never be the same again, the owner of the place said, and if I could not send another lady who would inspire his guests the way I had. I had to laugh about the word "inspire" in this connexion - does it have anything to do with the fact that certain parts of them very much began to look like spires breaking through the surface of the bath?

Well, I promised the guy to go back to the hotel whenever I was single again - or when I felt like being it, he added - - - now let's see what this year's programme is going to be. I am open for anything, though not anymore for anybody, I have to add.

Two days ago, there was a documentary on television about the female clitoris. It was after 10 pm, so that the kiddies might sleep, and it was very explicit: with nude pictures and people telling about their experiences with it. At the beginning they asked people in the street what they knew about it, and it was no surprise that there were many who did not have any idea what this is. This is not unexpected, as the term itself is very rarely used here.

But here they were - the lovely pictures of female genitals and their proud owners who told the audience how they felt it and what they did to make them feel it, and at what age they started. I must admit, I myself did not know exactly its size and how it developed. But one thing became very obvious - it's the only female organ which is there for pure pleasure.

Well, that it is there for pleasure is not entirely new to me.