There are a few things I usually don't tell anybody, maybe can't tell. Because I don't know if they are normal, or even sane. Like my state before I get my period. I noticed myself, looking through my last few blogs: I had a look at my calendar and the moon will be full in three days. I will be bleeding soon. But before, my hormones send me on a roller coaster of emotions - one is my sexual arousal, my fixation on cock as shown in my blogs. Phillip's nowadays. But it could be anyone's before. This compelling urge for cock in the few days before I bleed. It started with fourteen, and it has been going on since then - it has been urging me on. It's urging me right now. Beware, Phillip, when you come home tonight - there is a cavitity that must be filled. It must. It must.

This is what I cannot tell anybody.

I don't know if you have read John Irving's most recent novel "Until I find you", but I found it as wonderful as many of his previous texts. It's the fictitious biography of a famous actor called Jack Burns, particularly the story of an extraordinary youth. While going to school and also for many years to come Jack has a female friend to who is very close, but never really has sex with. But whenever they go out, cinema, theater or concert, her possessive and protective hand is in Jack's lap, holding his hard cock, with is usually hidden under a piece of clothing lying there.

Later, when Jack has a proper girl-friend, he asks her to do this, too, for him, because he is so much used to being held, and so she does. When one day he goes to a concert with both his girl-friend and his childhood friend, the two girls' hands customarily wandered to his lap and meet while holding his cock from both sides.

I told Phillip this story while he was driving me home from Italy and he thought the gesture very sexy. I refused trying it out then and there while driving because I think this is way too dangerous, but we did it while watching TV now and then, and I was surprised at the length of time he could keep his cock hard. I doubted that he really concentrated on the film, but he said he certainly did. The only thing which is different from the book is that in the end he won't just put it back in his pants like Jack, but he wants to take me there and then on the sofa. I said that this is not in the book, but he insists that there is always room for artistic freedom.

We have never done it in public, but over the weekend we will go to the cinema and do it, and we both think that it's going to be quite special.

There are many things worthwhile to be seen, like the Eiffel tower, Grand Canyon, Niagara Falls, a top politician breaking out into tears because he is not re-elected, the type of cigar a former American president stuck up his female aid, and so on - you know what I mean. I have seen all that (the cigar does not feel so bad, and smoking it afterwards seems to be a particular male pleasure).

But one thing I have not seen - and I would love to see it very much - is how a man sucks another man's dick. I have seen pictures and film clips, even on NN, but usually just stills and close-ups, but what I'd love to see is how they move, how they approach each other and what their positions are. Do they kiss first? Would they undress? I mention this because of yesterday's topic and slut_monkey's and depotguy's comments: it seems that one would never do it and the other not wish to have a nosy female observer like me, which I can understand well.

Would I want to see Phillip do it to someone? I fear I am a little conservative in this field and rather say no. Would I love to see it done to Phillip? For whatever reason - I could imagine that, although I do not exactly know why I would make a difference here, and it worries me a little that I do not find out.

In a private message I was asked, „Would you join Phillip in a MFM-threesome, the way you mentioned it in your blog some days ago?” My answer is, “I would follow Phillip anywhere.” Even into such a threesome, although I know this is not an easy thing to organize.

My experience is all with FMFs – usually when I was the third party and everything necessary was discussed in advance, as for example how far are all three ready to go. Then no-one goes too far and no-one is hurt. It seems very gratifying for all men to have sex with more than one woman, it unvariably seems a great dream of theirs. As far as I remember it was usually successful, I just had to make sure that the guy's main attention was on his wife or girl-friend.

The one time I tried this arrangement with Phillip, there was a mixed result – in was with Traudl, the Elf, and I hesitate to call it a success because a few things when awry, although it also had its rewards (it's all in the blog).

The one time I was in a MFM I also mentioned in the blog: it was rather against my will and bordering on , although I admit that I should have been more careful. There I got the impression, and I may be totally wrong, that if the two guys are straight and have no sexual interaction, there cannot be much tenderness and harmony. From what I have seen in films and sadly experienced myself, the woman soon becomes an object and the guys compete in degrading her - like two guys who feel strong and have a good time beating up a third.

This is what I think - and I hope I am wrong.

Angelika arrived in the late afternoon and our little family had a light dinner together. She was quite cheerful but still easily exhausted - she arrived by train and taxi and this made her very tired. She has put on weight because of the lack of movement in the hospital - before she took extreme care of her body by working out regularly and frequenting beauty places. Her body was her only capital in her profession - but this capital has now vanished into thin air.

When you see her fully dressed, you don't see much - you notice a lack of energy maybe and that her proportions are a little different. But then she showed us her scars. Obviously they will get better with time as they are still fresh - but at the moment they look horrible: where they had sawed open her chest or where they had pieced her leg together. Both Phillip and I were horrified - we had thought that nowadays this could be done with more care, so that not so much would tell of it for the rest of one's life. And we wondered if this mess of scarred flesh really represented the height of medical arts.

I think Phillip is very angry about what he has seen. He said this morning that he wanted to ask a professor he knows to look at those scars and ask his opinion. What he wonders, he told me this morning, is: does Angelika look like this because someone initially thought he was stitching together a mere whore?

Before shopping I got my guest-room ready for Angelika, Phillip's daughter from an early relationship with a Caribbean singer, which ended quite soon when she found a well-to-do Vienna builder who provided her with the standard of living she desired. That's where Angelika, then still called Angelique, a pretty girl like milk-coffee and honey, spent her childhood.

Later she got into contact with her father Phillip, and when I met him, I was even jealous of her because I thought he was her lover (it's all in my blog somewhere) until I found out the soothing truth. We became very good friends and often met; she always had a lot of time and I was convinced that she was an arts student.

Once she arrieved at my house with a black musician who I thought was her boy-friend; they kept me awake all night with their noisy lovemaking. When she informed me some time later that he had a concert nearby and I went there, he still recognized me; I took him home and we made love as noisily as they had.

When some days later Angelika phoned and said we had to talk, I was afraid that our friendship was over, but instead she told me she was working for an escort service - as a luxury whore if you want. She stayed with me when someone tried to blackmail her, until the danger was over. And it was in this profession that she got into a traffic accident one late night which kept her in hospital so long. She is convinced that her career as an escort is over: she is up again and mobile, but on her chest and on her one leg there are disfiguring scars which will force her, as she says, into a fully clothed profession, like car-mechanic or deep sea diver.

Until she knows what to do, I have invited her to stay with me, and she will arrive this afternoon. For me she is what she is: my beautiful step-daughter Angelika - angel-like in spite of all she did and went through.

So nice to have you back, depotguy, I hope it was a dream holiday. The problem is that I don't live in Tyrolia; I am in a region called Vorarlberg, close to Germany and Switzerland, on the Lake of Constance (Bodensee). If you had looked at the right moment, you would certainly have spotted the panties mentioned. I am not so sure, PAMom, if it would be so exciting to be me - I have my very tedious moments, too. And I don't have a pretty daughter, either, although this might hopefully change in the near future. Anna is actually a name I like a lot; it is just very widely used here at the moment.

My first school week is already over and routine has set in again. I think some people were genuinely pleased to see me again - like the 16-year-old guy with red ears who gave me a crumpled rose when leaving the room and mumbled something incomprehensible. I hope he doesn't soil his underclothes too much while thinking of me - his mum will be worried.

I invited my neighbour Helene to my pool on Wednesday when it was so warm, and she arrived with little Oliver. Some of you might remember that she is the lady who - or at least almost. She has taken to kissing me bang on the mouth wetly when he meet or part (Madonna-style, if you remember that scene). I am not so sure if I like this a lot - but it's certainly a sign of some kind.

We were rubbing suntan oil on each other, but in a decent way so that little Oliver, who got a few handfuls himself, would not worry. Children are used to nakedness anyway, you can see that on any nude beach - up to a certain age, I think, when they are informed that one should not be seen the way one was born. I am so glad that my parents convinced me that this is pure nonsense - I benefit from their wonderful openness up to this very day.

I don't know what you are - but I am a moaner and a mover during sex. I like to voice my emotions, and I tend to get louder and louder as closer as I come. I can be quiet, too, if the circumstances require this, unlike a woman I know from work who tends to shout so much that some time ago a neighbour called the police because she thought there was some harm done next door. I shout, too, and I move, and arch my body, or love riding cock - but unlike many I am not verbal. I never yell "oh my god, oh my god", for example, as I have heard, or the name of whoever gives me so much pleasure, I have said, "yes, please, fuck me" when I know this was an expected turn-on. I never say, "here I cum", which appears tacky to me and seems to be a guy's thing anyway.

Now Phillip is different - he is a talker. He says all kinds of things while at it: from general terms of endearment up to outright confessions of love, all kinds of comments on various of my body parts and how he likes them, and the hotter he gets the more he likes using pornographic, although not degrading vocabulary. And he tells me what else he'd love to do, what his sexual dreams are and what we ought to try. And then he explodes with some kind of a roar, which many guys do and which is a lovely reminder of their original animal heritage, together with biting my shoulder or my neck which sometimes leaves some marks for days.

Well, from this verbosity I know that Phillip still dreams of doing it with more than one woman, that he is fantasizing again about threesomes - once he even mentioned sharing and enjoying me with another man. When we lie next to each other spent, he is rather quiet and does what I love best: touching and stroking me all over, particularly my sides, and my back, and my face and hair until I sleep or we have to start doing some work.

But I certainly know what will be on our sexual agenda one of these days.

Thank you very much, my dear waschpi, for your good wishes at the beginning of the new school year. I know you are one of my most faithful readers, and whenever I pass your hometown Basel, I think of you. Let me tell you something in Swiss German then, although I can't really say much anymore: waschi, du bisch en Schatz.

It's quite late again, and I have prepared my lessons for tomorrow. But before I go to bed, I will have a swim in the dark. Actually, the pool itself is not dark - there are two lights with look quite pretty because it seems all the water in the pool is aglow. So off with these old clothes and out into the cold ...

PS: Angelika will arrive on Saturday, I don't know for how long.

I don't feel too good - school is starting again today and the quiet days are over. I am still nervous after all these years - what is it going to be like? How will the new kids react? And the colleagues? There are some new ones, and they will mostly be younger than I. I very much enjoyed being "a young teacher" - what will it be like to gradually become part of the middle-aged group?

I am not going to tell anybody, but maybe this is my last year. If I succeed in getting pregnant by next year, I will reduce my lessons after maternity leave or even stop working for the school. I have actually decided to enjoy my year and to give my best again - so that my students regret when I leave - and not say that it has become time for me to do so.

I got my wardrobe ready last week already - my business clothes have been hanging there waiting unused for a few weeks. It's going to be a white blouse and a dark-blue modestly striped, almost knee-length skirt, and mybe a light, grey sweater. It's so warm that I won't be wearing tights, just my black cotton thongs and a black bra. This is my teacher's uniform.