I'm back from town and have already done my shopping. Hopefully, Angelika is eating with me and has not lost her appetite because of me and my sexual escapade. Would you eat the food of someone who has eaten off your boy-friend? Let's hope she does. She's arriving in about two hours.

In the supermarket I was in the queue behind Traudl and Viktoria, the two love birds. I couldn't but promise to come to a meal at their place, and we have decided on next Saturday. Viktoria will even come and give me a lift, which is very nice of her, and it's sure going to be fun, despite the fact that I could be their mother.

And now let's wait and see what Angelika is going say ...

When I came home from school yesterday, Elsie's voice was on my answering machine and she asked me to take my bathing suit to Jaccuzzi again because the Chick would be with us tonight, and the Chick was certainly a litte squeamish about going naked before our eyes.

I am aware that Chick is not a good translation for the term Elsie used. In German she said Küken, which means a baby chicken, fluffy, little and helpless, a lovable little creature everyone wants to hug and protect, and it's Elsie's pet name for a new colleague of hers of who I had heard before several times. So let's use this German term of endearment, which elicits a spontaneous feeling of tenderness, for the girl with who we were going to share the Jacuzzi tonight. If Küken is the Küken, Elsie is certainly the Hen, and she has taken her under her wings.

Elsie talks very often of Küken, who seems to be a little clumsy at work and at the same time quite cheeky, but in a lovable way noone really takes offence to. In Elsie's stories she always appears a little beyond herself, and the most awkward things happen to her, like when she stumbled in the staircase lately and a cream cake she was carrying landed before the feet of a memeber of the school board and splashed his trousers up to the crotch, and she took a hankie out and started to clean him. I didn't mention it, but she is a cookery teacher like Elsie and so a colleague of mine, although not from my school.

When I met her, I didn't wonder why she was the Küken - she is in her 20s, blond and slim, but not skimpy. On the contrary, she has a very well-rounded body, from her head to her behind, and not to forget her pretty, firm breasts. I noticed it when she came out of the bedroom in her one-piece bathing suit: I have hardly seen anyone who seems so innocent as she. And she moves as if she is not in the least aware of the full, womanly body she wears around with herself. This is a very rare quality in a girl of her age, and it touches the heart of anyone who sees her. I could well see that Joerg was paying her his usual tribute - not that visible this time under his bathing shorts.

It was a funny evening, as charming, but also as erotic as a children's birthday party. Küken was ever so entertaining, she told us quite a number of funny and embarrassing stories which had happened to her; at the same time she was hanging at Elsie's lips as if every word she said was pure wisdom, and the next moment she said something silly, or with childlike innocence asked a question like didn't people have Jacuzzis to make love in?

We all hooted with laughter - although Joerg looked a little pensive, but when he saw that I had seen it - he looked away. But what he had thought could be read all over his face: when this Küken had developed into a veritable chicken, he would not mind roasting it himself - and preferably on his own spit.

Just a short blog before I leave for school, so that my friends don't think I have left - Joerg will be absent Thursday and Friday next week. I have phoned Aldo and Thursday is fine with him - I heard Elsie gasp on the phone when I told her this morning. And I have agreed to another go at the swingers club, presumably in a fortnight. Tit for tat, I know, but it's well worth doing this for Elsie.

You're right, OldGeezer, I should have heard it from her tone, but honestly I was so shocked to have her on the phone and by her voice sounding so urgent, that I did jump to a conclusions. I do not intend to deny anything which is already known to her, that's for sure, and so I can just hope our friendship will just get a little blow but is not damaged permanently.

There were a few people who wrote in their messages that the story I started to tell about dwarf-cocked Louis, the yacht owner, was pretty hard to believe. I must agree, life is sometimes really more awkward than anything you might invent so that it appears likely and true. From what I was telling it maybe also seems that our summer holidays were a never ending, hard to believe in orgy of sex. That is not true: besides the episodes with the two French guys in Aigues-Mortes and Louis, our almost three weeks holidays were as uneventful as anybody's and mainly consisted of food, drinks, beauty spots and nudist beaches.

In order not to test people's incredulity too much just this: Louis, when asked to use his ordinary-sized tongue to give us some pleasure, flatly refused and said he would never do something so unhygenic and revolting, and if we wanted to feel a tongue he would not mind us doing this to each other - which we flatly refused.

Just later, we had drunk much too much of the fiery red wine and didn't know if it was us or the boat which was moving from side to side - I licked Tanja to the great delight of Louis the spectator and herself on the receiving end, and then she licked me with little physical reaction on my part - and during the night we both were at least once outside at the railing feeding the fish with the contents of our overindulged stomachs.

Two days later Louis even introduced us two Austrian oenologists (wine specialists) to his distinguished, stiff-backed wife and two of his three sweet teenage daughters. He really had his own vineyard and his mansion was as big as part of himself was small - so it can be said without exaggeration that in the course of his life he managed to compensate quite nicely for his natural shortcomings. So it goes. But only when you're lucky.

I was just having dinner this evening when the telephone rang. It was Angelika. She said there was something urgent she wanted to talk to me about, and if I had time for her to visit me on Saturday afternoon - she would travel over from Vienna by train. Oh, oh - I had not though it would happen so soon. What on earth can I tell her ...

Now I know why I remembered exactly this story: I told Tanja that according to Angelika Jean-Baptiste was very well-endowed when she reminded me of Louis, the owner of the yacht in Sête, with was not a sailing vessel by the way, but a big motorboat.

Shortly after having fed us with some delicious snacks and after pouring some lovely red wine, which he said was from his own vineyard, the moment came when he would do with us what he wanted as Tanja had promised. We were still lying on deck in the nude because although the sun was setting, it was pretty warm. He had taken his shorts off when he approached us, but - we could hadly trust our eyes: he had the tiniest cock we had ever seen, and we both have seen a few awkward things in our lives. It was already hard and erect, and I want to be fair and not compare it to my little finger - but it was certainly not bigger than my thumb. Tanja looked at me, and I looked at her - and then we shouted with laughter, all because of the wine, of course.

Now it seems Louis was used to this reaction, and he had enough money to live well with it, and he told us that no matter how big it was, he could feel it wonderfully all the same. He wanted us to suck it first, but my strawberry condoms I have with me for such cases were way too large - finally Tanja held it in place why I applied my lips, but when she shook with laughter, the rubber slipped and we had to start again. When he finally came, he spouted so much cum that we were really astonished and he said he could not have made his three children without nothing, could he?

To our big surprise Louis produced some very small condoms, I would say child-size if children used any - and he said they were manufactured in Japan and sold per internet. That worked way better, and after a certain time of necessary rest, he came into Tanja with a big groan. But Tanja complained: why should he have all the fun and she didn't even feel anything? I had to admit - she was right.

I try to live a life as close to nature as possible. My home is out here in the countryside, close to the mountains, and my house is an old wooden structure. You will still find moss around my window frames for insulation, and all the paint is organic. I don't drive a car, but use my bicycle (if it isn't too cold as it is now), I use public transport as often as possible, and I never eat junk food. Of course I enjoy many of the amenities an average middle European does, but I try to avoid doing it in excess. And in the last decade or so I have been so natural that my reproductive cycle has aligned to the cycle of the moon.

So when last night a big, round moon spread its cold light over valleys and mountain tops, I was bleeding. The moon gently pulls planet Earth, and I react with a personal spring-tide, so to speak. I should have known, but in the course of daily events I'm usually too busy to read the signs. I was a little depressed and tearful last Wednesday. Afterwards I was so horny that on Saturday I started to recall an erotic memory, and then the night with Jean-Baptiste. He must have noticed from the first moment on how ready I was - I seem to send out signs and maybe scents in abundance, so that all ready males - and that's almost all because for humans it's rutting season all year round - know from the start that I will go will them all the way. On certain days I must smell like a bitch in heat - and I also feel like one.

Would I live in some remote African tribe, I would have to move to the edge of the compound now until I'd stop being unclean. In this situation I really like being average middle European - I take a hot shower and insert a Tampax, and my life is almost back to normal.

Oh my goodness - I have had sex with Angelika's boy-friend. I had never really thought of that, but everything went this way all evening until he was in my bed and I felt his cock deep inside me. And all was good - besides my conscience, because it is my firm conviction that it is deeply unfair to fuck a friend's partner just for the fun of it.

The concert was not overly exciting, and the fairly small audience was not all too enthusiastic. The kind of Francophone ethno rock they play has not many followers here. So most people were about my age, rather an intellectual crowd, who didn't cheer and dance much. These guys could certainly play - what a sense for rhythm and timing they have - but I would have preferred them to play some of their own African music without too many western and electronic influences.

Jean-Baptiste had already spotted me before the concert (he did recognize me !!), and afterwards the three of us had arranged for a drink. I could see well that Tanja liked him a lot, too. When it came to leaving for home, he asked if I would mind him coming to my place again, which I didn't. Tanja drove us home - I didn't invite her to come in. First he said he was hungry and I warmed up some leftovers from the fridge which he wolfed down, and then we went to bed together - as if we had been doing this for ages every day.

And now I was on the receiving end of his attention, and there was nobody listening behind a thin wall. That's why it was no use at all being quiet, and we certainly weren't. Angelika had not exaggerated when telling me what had made her so happy. Jean-Baptiste was all as good-looking and well-endowed as I had thought, and he was indefatigable, and only came after a long time with a big roar which maybe rivaled that of the lions in his native country when it sounded over the prairie at night. It was what I had needed so desperately - and it did me a lot of good.

I took him to town this morning and came back by bus again, now I am home alone, the sun is shining outside but it is still below freezing. And I am racking my brain how I could explain this to the sweet Angelika, whose trust I may have broken for good.

When we phoned the other day, Tanja reminded me of an episode from our summer holidays in the South of France which had been very awkward indeed - I don't know exactly how we came to speak of it. Maybe when I mentioned how I had heard Angelika and Jean-Bapiste make love all night when they were my guests and how I couldn't keep my fingers to myself.

From Aigues-Mortes we had been driving down the coast and came to a place with lots of yachts, I think it was in Sête. It was quite a lovely harbour and it was late afternoon, we had just drunk half a litre of cool red wine and were a little tipsy. As we were walking along the yachts we admired them and thought that is would really be great to be in one of them. We knew of course that we were being observed by a lot of boat owners and that there were always a lot of girls parading here, not only to be taken along, but also to earn some extra pocket money.

When some guy shouted: If I can do with you what I want, you can come along - everything went pretty fast, at least faster that I could react, which always happens with Tanja. Because within fractions of a second she retorted: But we'll only stay as long as you can do it. And up the plank she steered me and there we were - on a lovely, medium-sized, wonderfully white yacht alone with a complete stranger, who was about as surprised as I. Not to mention that our car was standing somewhere in a short-stay parking area and we had already booked a hotel room for the night.

It seemed that the owner of the vessel, a middle-aged, quite distingished Frenchman, could hardly grasp his luck, but to make things clear he immediately started the engine and navigated out of the harbour onto the open sea. Where is our sleeping place? Tanja coolly asked, and we were shown into the guy's own master bedroom. There, without any further delay, Tanja totally undressed, told me to do the same, took her towel and thus we went back on deck to lie down and enjoy the rest of the afternoon sun. And we decided not to move an inch until the sun was going down and we had got some decent food.

As you might have noticed there was no Jacuzzi last night, just a mechanic repairing the thing all morning. A motor had gone kaputt - maybe it couldn't stand so much beauty any longer. All's back to normal, though, just the water is still fairly cold and it takes some time to heat up, particularly in the present subzero temperatures. Maybe we'll have a splash on Sunday night.

Tanja promised to drive me over to Bregenz tomorrow and come to Jean-Baptiste's concert. Some of you might remember that he was my guest (see Oct.11, 2006) and he is the beautiful Angelika's passionate lover. A good-looking, very masculine guy from Burkina Faso, no wonder she has such a crush on him. He spoke a lot of his music when he was in my house but I have never heard him play, that's why I'd love to go and listen. Maybe we can even change a few words with Angelika's boy-friend or go for a drink - if he remembers me at all. I am sure Tanja will like him, too.