Thank you OldGeezer, thank you bluecat for your absolutely marvellous comments, which really mean a lot to me. I know life will go on normally before long, and in the long run only the good things will be remembered. I ventured out of the house to town this morning for the first time again, the roof was threatening to fall onto my head, and the weather is just too beautiful to mope around.

It hit me when I got dressed: for a long, long time, certainly all summer, I will not be able to wear all my skirts and dresses, and neither will it be my heels. It's trouser time and flat shoes so that no-one can see my orthopedic stockings - there is a feeling of loss which I have to come to terms with first.

In town I felt stared at constantly - do I walk awkwardly now in my stockings, do I already look pregnant? Did I talk aloud to my daughter again - something which I have started to do. And see what I feel: it's going to be a daughter (Phillip is certain he will have a son).

And now I am back - I have bought some yellow roses and some new jeans - I am looking out over my pool which has been ready to be used since yesterday (The first time that I didn't get it ready for the summer myself)Tonight I will be swimming for the first time in it, and I will feel just great.

Thank you so much for your positive reactions and good wishes - they help me a little to get out of the deep hole into which I have fallen. I know I must look forward, and yet I am still in shock - I who was never seriously ill and felt I would live forever. And how I found out I am pregnant - I knew of course I was overdue some weeks, but I thought it was the different climate in my holidays or whatever. I hadn't told Phillip, because I didn't want to raise hopes I could not fulfill. And then all went so fast. Only gradually I am beginning to be happy.

There will be so much to tell here in my blog in the coming months, a good friend wrote. Did he feel that I am not decided yet if I am going on writing here at all? I have found very good friends here, I would miss them dearly, but as a middle-aged, pregnant woman in therapeutic compression stockings with no pictures to publish and a very dimmed urge to consume pornography - am I here still in the right place? The only people who could imagine me as an object of their lust and desire nowadays would probably be some rubber-fetishists. In the last weeks the number of people counted by the device at the top of the page, who may have read my blog, has dwindled dramatically anyway. There were 60 or more during my heydays, and it's a mere 20 lately. Even Piss Slut Kat, my old friend, has more visitors because of her tell-tale name, although she has not published one word in two years.

So I am sitting here, wondering if one project, regularly writing an English blog, comes to an end while a new one, producing my own child, takes a beginning.

On Saturday I had a strange pain in my calf, so on the way to the market I looked in at the hospital to show it and and ask. And then all went quickly: I was diagnosed with a deep Thrombosis of the veins in my right leg, and the doctor said I was lucky this could have ended much worse. How worse? I asked, and he said I might have had a lung embolism, which could be lethal.

I described how I felt, quite out of breath and with a cough, and he sent me to emergency at once. There I had to put on this attractive hospital nighty and they shoved an oxygen pipe up my nose. The computer tomography device told them that I had multiple embolisms in my lungs, which had led to partial failure. They immediately started thinning my blood and kept me until today. Now I have to wear ugly rubber stockings and be careful what I do.

After testing my blood on the first day, the doctor said the danger was over and all was fine for both of us. For who? I asked. For you and the child, the doctor said.

That's how I found out I am pregnant, a new life may begin now, I don't know what it will be like, I don't know if I am happy, but I am glad we escaped death. How will it go on? In a week is my 40th birthday.

I know there are some people who'd love to know how my MFM went. For those who like short answers: it was interesting but not particularly exciting.

The reason for this might be that we are all pretty new at it, and that they tried to stay perfect gentlemen while fucking me. And Phillip's colleague thinks very highly of him, and so it seems he hardly dared do anything without an encouraging nod. And Phillip himself took so much care that all was fine for me that the whole arrangement had something of a formal dinner party.

It started in the friend's Jacuzzi which was pleasant for a Thursday, and I liked feeling those hands everywhere over me. But from there it didn't really take off much: Phillip, who can be so wild and emotional, was a little restrained because he didn't want to show off in front of his colleague, and he on the other hand didn't just want to stick his cock into me without being told. And I, who can become pretty excited when sucking cock, held the two erections rather lamely, making sure none of them came too soon, which would embarrass him. And it was an all-condom thing anyway, which doesn't make sucking too great an experience.

What the main problem was for me, which the others didn't know, was that what really excites me is the feeling of being debased to a certain degree, to be used (but still without violence, which is maybe an illusion). To roll in the dirt while they are cumming over me. But what they did was serving me. Like the two Butlers who ask the Lady of the Manor:"Are you pleased with the way you're being fucked today, Madam, or are there any further wishes?"

The double-penetration, which was new for all of us, was supposed to be the climax of the evening. It was something like a circus trick, quite artistic and like an awkward human statue: Phillip reclining and me sitting backwards onto him while being penetratated anally, then carefully being held by him while his friend climbed onto me with equal care and penetrated my pussy. Then a gentle rocking movement from both of them, so that it did not hurt me and they could cum all the same, then the moment when they started waiting because they thought it was unfair to cum before I did. Then of course I came with a moan and a shout (even if it was only faked for lack of stimulation), and then they both came pretty simultaneously, too.

And then the whole installation was deconstructed, we soon got dressed and had another drink.

The number of butterflies in my stomach is rising dramatically. This is the long-awaited night. Stay with me in your thoughts.

"Austria: the Country for quirky sex. It must be the story of the century in Austria, it is even big news here about Joseph the guy who kept his kids underground, put a dead child in the furnace and has another 5, all mentally disturbed. They interviewed a Newspaper reporter who naturally spoke with a strong accent and I immediately thought of Phillip and he too would probably have a similar accent, a thing I had never considered before."

I found this PM from a very good friend when I logged on to NN a few minutes ago, and I must say he is only too right. Austria seems to be the country for people hiding what they desire underground (what are the psychological implications?) - what really shakes people up is the thought of how many hideaways like this have not been found yet and how many people quietly suffer. To the crime as a whole can't be said much yet, too many things are either too horrible or too strange to believe.

For 24 years this now 73-year-old made his own daughter his permanent sex slave which he kept at his disposal in a cellar room of his own house. This is far worse than most of the fantasies I have read on pornographic sites or met in chat rooms. But it's by far not the worst. How big is the step from a fantasy to reality? Should one already ban the fantasies?

Phillip's accent, by the way, is none too bad. You will of course hear that he is a native speaker of German, but not much, particularly not when he emphasizes his American accent, while when speaking the Queen's English, one's origins are much more difficult to hide.

I know now why Phillip has been so preoccupied with anal sex lately. We have performed it a few times since my holidays; he's been very careful and caring and done it lovingly - he asked almost too many questions considering it was a sexual act, if you know what I mean. When I consented to it without any second thoughts, it was not because I really like it, and I usually do not have an orgasm that way without any additional stimulation. But I know how much guys like it; in chat rooms I have been asked about a million times if I do it and also quite a number of men have tried to perform it with me over the years.

I must admit that I feel it's rather the wrong entry, and this applies also to licking the same area, but what does one not do for the special glint in a guy's eyes. I have read somewhere that guys are so fond of it because it's an expression of power and dominance and also subjugation: in wars victors fuck the defeated and their female family between 5 and 99 in the ass to humiliate them, and, according to a text I read, men do it to men without even being homosexual (the same seems to apply to prisons).

Now Phillip is of course very far from this (besides the fact that he is also a man). The real reason for his preoccupation, as far is I could make out, is the long-awaited MFM which should definitely take place next Thursday, which is a double holiday (Mayday and Ascension day), and if I do not over-interpret his hints, the two guys plan to doubledecker me ....

It's not that Bettina was a virgin and had no sexual experience at all, in spite of her father watching her with Argus eyes. Maybe she'd tried out a few things because of that. And it was not so different with us - she was again spiting her parents and trying out something new. I am sure that she is as little a lesbian as I am (but maybe also as much ...).

We wanted to make her feel safe first by just hugging and stroking her, from both sides and gradually more and more intimately. Already then her breathing accelerated noticeably, and she slightly started moving from side to side. When we both kissed her, she responded with her tongue and sighed. So I started to explore her lower regions with some probing fingers, and I was surprised how extremely wet she was. There was moisture on the inside of her thighs, and even the bed sheet had already caught some of it.

She started to moan intensively as soon as I started to massage her pussy, all around, her swollen clitoris and her very wet insides. Helene softly fondled her breasts meanwhile and kissed her now and then. I couldn't help tasting my fingers, and yes, I was just miraculous, the sweet taste of a very young girl, like milk and honey. I wet my fingers again and gave them Helene to taste, and she, too, was totally intrigued. She quickly changed her position, got down between Bettina's spread legs and started to lick her, first softly, but then more and more frantically, as if she wanted to devour her, hair and skin and all.

I stroked Bettina's locks meanwhile and held her head, and I shushed her now and then when she became too loud - being in a hotel room and everyone had their windows open. She came at the same time as Helene, which had become totally excited by the wonderful taste and the fact that there was much more moisture than both of us had ever seen with a woman. Bettina then licked me, and although she was inexperienced, the newness of the situation excited me very much, so I gave in soon.

About 90 minutes later we were all standing on our little balcony, naked and a little cold, and looking out onto the sea. Far out there was a light, maybe from a fishing boat. We stood there and embraced till Bettina had to go, because she didn't want to fall asleep with us and go to breakfast from the wrong room. The next morning, that's what she promised, she would come to the beach and walk with us.

So Helene and I went to bed again alone, but we were not lying too close, because between us there was a big wet stain. The last thing I consciously noticed before I fell asleep was Bettina's lingering smell, which gently evaporated from the sheet and caressed my nose.

A PM from a "faithful Alpinist", which I opened this morning, asked three questions:"Did Bettina just climb in between you two, you just touched her skin and then she evaporated into thin air? Does Helene get unemployment benefits? Can Angelika get more surgery to remove the hideous scars from her beautiful body?"

First I am touched that there are still people remembering the term "Alpinist". It was a joke at a time that you could apply to become an official Alpina supporter, and then you were entitled to wear the following button:



When I look at the list of the people who actually applied, I am saddened: So many have gone. They just deserted their NN - account, but it is also like some kind of death.

Helene has had jobs now and then, and one until recently. If she is without an occupation for longer, she will have to apply for benefits. I will talk to her about it.

Angelika's scars are still quite horrible, although they have become a little more neutral in color, so that they are not so obvious from further away. Still she wouldn't go swimming to a public pool or wear the short dresses she used to. And we still believe that the doctors did their jobs very slovenly because they thought they were stitching together a mere hooker. Nothing can be done, we have tried: They have saved life, and that's the point. Angelika's personality has considerably been changed by the horrible events. Maybe there is a chance for a cosmetic operation to improve the situation, but it is still too early to know.

As far as Bettina is concerned, there would be quite a lot to tell. I just feared that my readers' interest was small or I was put off by some doubting reactions. Or maybe I am just too touchy.

Helene, my neighbour, might not be this for much longer. Not because she is moving away, but moving closer. Her son Oliver will attend a boarding school during the week and only come back over the weekend, which he will spend with either his mother or his father. Helene, who still hasn't found a satisfactory job, with give up her flat and temporarily move in with us. Our house is big enough, and we have been very close in many respects lately anyway.

Phillip and I are not totally convinced if this is a good idea, but we have discussed it and want to try it for some time. We have set up some rules, and Helene has agreed last night to keep to them. She will have her own room downstairs where she sleeps unless we invite her into our bed. She does not have to give us any money as long as she hasn't got a suitable job, but she will help look after the house and the food as well as the cleaning. She will not invite her own friends to our house unless we agree to it. Oliver can stay with us on those weekends he is with his mother.

There is a rule I will insist on, and I will want it to be obeyed strictly: under no circumstances will I allow her and Phillip to have sex when I am not at home and part of the arrangement. She will move in at the beginning of May, at the same time when our stepdaughter Angelika moves into Phillip's little flat in town. Maybe we will have a little party as soon as both our friends have moved.

Tonight it's Jacuzzi with Elsie and Joerg. They are back from their holidays, too, so there will be a lot of storytelling tonight.