I could not help thinking about the woman I mentioned yesterday - who came so violently and in total abandon with my friend Aldo in the club on Friday. I also mentioned the fear in her husband's eyes when he saw what his wife was capable of with a stranger and I asked myself what the future of their relationship will be. I love this kind of mind games, trying to imagine what people's lives are like and how they will go on, and where it will lead them. I am wrong more often than right, I must admit, because so many people's lives are really governed by coincidences or sheer luck.

Will she ever be pleased again with her husband and his unobtrusive cock, I asked. This is a question which worries men, I know. Women will agree with me that he has nothing to fear. It's not the partner's size that makes a partnership happy. If this was true, the person I'd be happy with was Aldo - he is so big that he reaches parts in me noone else will ever reach. Technically he is the guy who can bring about my orgasm the fastest. But Phillip, whose cock is only slightly above average, reaches areas in me Aldo has never even been close: my imagination, my hopes and my soul. He is the one who can make me truly feel good.

So there is nothing to fear for this husband. Or is there? For him who satisfied himself so eagerly in my mouth before his onlooking wife's eyes? Who maybe dragged her to the club against her will to get kicks he does't get at home? Who wishes for a more adventurous sex life his wife will never be able to give him?

When their relationship is on the rocks and she is desperate enough, she may have found something in Aldo's arms which her husband had not bargained for: herself and her sexual strength. Then her piercing orgiastic shouts were a first step towards independence.

I didn't mean it personally, Seshat and Manic Panic, I have just grown so damn addicted to writing here; this has been given a more important part in my life than I have ever intended. I don't know if this is good, or if changes are necessary. The only way to detox would be to stop - but not yet. But I didn't want to urge you wonderful people to comment, still - a great thank-you for feeling what was on my soul.

Shall I go on? Aldo knows what arouses me most in the club; why I finally agree to going along. He lifted me up and laid me on a big towel on some kind of padded table at one side of the room, so that I was lying on my back, my arms and both my spread legs hanging down on either side. Then he put a little towel over my eyes. Aldo said that in this position I was looking like an ancient sacrifice presented to the Gods of Lust. And in a way I was feeling just like that.

Fact is that I love being absolutely passive in these sexually charged surroundings and enjoy what is going on with me and around me. I enjoy feeling hands all over my body, male and female, and also body parts touching me. I know Aldo watches that nothing unpleasant happens while I can't see. It arouses me greatly to feel all this, to hear people move, and to hear their intensive breathing all around me.

Gradually people become more daring and intense, I feel a wet tongue on my body, or a lick on my pussy. Hands massage my breasts. But I remain totally passive, like paralyzed. When the movements become even more intensive, I take the towel away - I want to see now all the heated up bodies who start getting at me as if I was some unknown kind of food - probing and tasting and licking. Some guy dares his wife to lick, too, one stands so that I feel his pulsating dick between my fingers.

I don't move - sometimes I'm shaken with sudden outbursts of lust, but I don't move - - - there is always a moment when they become bolder and start tearing into me - not violently, but softly - no one wants to hurt their vestal virgin - and if one is rough Aldo tips him on his shoulder. But it's then my pussy is entered, and my hands are full, and even my mouth is filled when I turn my head to the side, and the room starts to vibrate and men begin to moan. There are still some female fingers that rest on my skin or brush my hair - but by then my mind has gone almost blank. And while one guy after another seeks his redemption, some more than once - Aldo, so he tells me, makes the best of the moment and finds his lust from the spectator wives.

There is a moment when all is still again. Usually when I sit up I see Aldo busy with one or two females. The guys sit there panting, or fondling their wives, or themselves. But it seems that the party has come to an end, guys urge their partners to come to the bar, or to another room. It's then that Aldo has his little show - and I had to smile again. Because to the last woman he gives some special attention: he makes her squirm and wince, he makes her hot and wild until she clings to him helplessly and cums with piercing shouts. And into her, he cums, too, with a roar.

I was watching her husband: he had stuffed his cock into my mouth before, but now he looked bewildered and crestfallen, he was pretty small himself and there was a big chance he had never seen his wife as passionate as that - she had never had anything so big inside her. Would she ever be pleased with him again? For a moment there was something like fear in his eyes.

That's what we have done before, and what we did again on Friday. Some kind of a ritual, something impersonal in a way because it didn't matter who it was as long as it fulfilled some desires. While we drove home, we talked about something completely different. Tomorrow my holidays are over - and I am back to my normal everyday life.

Thanks for your sensitive feedback on yesterday's blog, Duncan, I needed that. After opening up so much as I did, silence is like a finger poking in an open wound.

On Friday night Aldo and I entered the club before nine, got our towels, undressed and showered together. When we walked into the bar, I was wearing my customary black thongs and Aldo something quite similar, just the male make, which showed off his muscular and athletic body and didn't hide at all how perfectly well endowed he is. We sat down on our towels at the bar and ordered a drink, but didn't really enjoy the atmosphere. The room looked pleasant and tasteful enough, and the staff was friendly, but the guests were predominantly male, and they ogled us openly and some couldn't take their fingers off their cocks from the moment we entered. I wouldn't have wondered if some of them had cum into their pants right there in the bar.

Upstairs in the room where only couples are allowed, it was much better. The light was dimmed and the ground covered with soft matresses. Big towels were lying ready and cute little baskets with all kinds of condoms here and there. When we came in there were eight couples, most of them were naked and engrossed in some sexual axtivities, or they were watching others. What became obvious soon, and which I think is a certain drawback in such a place, was that all of them were older than we and not many of them could be called good-looking. Swinging definitely seems to be something for middle-aged people, who maybe have lost a lot of their initial illusions concerning love and sex, and who are looking for some new kicks. Or to be accurate: It is usually one party who is intent on getting the kicks, and one who goes along in order not to endanger their relationships.

Because I felt like feeling Aldo and his wonderful cock, I asked him to take his thongs off and I started touching and then sucking him, and his hands were all over me. When I wanted to feel him, I guided him to enter me and slowly he took me towards my first orgasm of the evening, right there on the ground; I must admit that I found the fact that almost all eyes rested on us very erotic.

It was after my orgasm that the first couple asked us if we cared to let them in on our play.

I slept long and took a long, hot shower to wash yesterday evening off my skin (I had already had a shower before leaving the club of course) - so this morning's was more of a purification ritual, if you know what I mean.

I promised to tell what compels me to go to such a swingers club - and the easiest answer is: It is not me, it's my dark and dirty Sister Hyde side - I have mentioned her a few times before. My dark side, who comes over me now and then, who loves crawling in dirt and walloping in sperm, who submits to lewd sex and enjoys being taken hard, and who loves using the most explicit language to heighten her lust. She is not really me - and I am often afraid of her - but when she takes me over and paralyzes my will, I follow her into the basest of endeavours.

When I am asked what my deep down fantasy is, I often jokingly say being in a church in a beautiful white dress next to a handsome, rich young man, or then I mention something harmless like having sex on a mountain top (that's what I told Phillip when he asked).

My Sister Hyde side's darkest fantasy is something which really shocks me. Lately I came across a picture and my heart started to race, because it showed the situation she imagines herself to be in so well. Eight naked, good-looking, athletic men have formed a circle around a naked girl who looks up with a smile at their enormous cocks looming over her. They are all masturbating, and she helps them using her hands and now and then her mouth. And then they all start cumming, all over her, her face, her glasses, her hair, her whole body. And she starts rolling on the dirty ground, in all that sperm which won't stop flowing and covering her head and her exposed body. During all of this she has a wild orgasm that shakes her from side to side. It makes her helpless and won't stop, until long after the guys have left her lying there.

When Sister Hyde masturbates to this fantasy, she makes me fear for my sanity. But the swingers club is the place I can come closest to her vision.

I asked myself long how one is to prepare when one is about to visit a swingers club. I finally decided on taking a long shower and washing my hair. Under my clothes I will be wearing one of my tight black cotton string undies of the kind I always wear - I have painted neither toe- nor fingernails. When we arrive, Aldo and I will have a drink; it's a little ritual before we enter the club together.

I was asked why I am going with Aldo. At a party we both were invited to he once said he would love to go there, but not alone - it was much better to go as a couple and profit from the benefits. As I was single, we teamed up and went there; I was curious myself what was going on. We soon noticed that it was no good staying in the general area downstairs - there were so many single men, most of them non-German speaking, and so very few women that we thought the atmosphere was rather tense. When Aldo and I lay down together for example there were so many leering guys masturbating around us it felt rather awkward.

So we went upstairs to the area reserved to couples, which is usually not so busy and where there are equal numbers of men and women. Aldo's ambition is to stick his considerable cock into each of the women present, which he usually has managed by the end of the evening. Why I'm going there - well, it is not so easy to speak about this. It has to do with realizing a deep down fantasy of mine. But I have no time to elaborate - Aldo will arrive in a few minutes. More about it all tomorrow.

Friday 13th - I am usually not superstitious, so I hope the day will end well. It will end with Aldo's and my drive back from the swingers club, which is about three hours away from here. I haven't been there for quite some time - but I don't feel bad about it. I have a certain curiosity what it is going to be like this time and I feel I am open again for almost everything. And Aldo will watch over me like he did before, so that nothing unpleasant happens to me and nothing against my will. Still I am a little nervous. We'll leave around six p.m.

Compared to tonight, yesterday's Jacuzzi session was very calm and peaceful. It was Angelika's last for some time, so Elsie had prepared some good food. We all undressed in the living-room and then went out into the garden. It was dark and chilly, so we sat into the hot tub immediately and relaxed. Angelika told us about her life in Vienna, her journalist work and the courses which she will be attending, and we did a second sessions when we felt that the time clock had stopped the bubbling too soon.

Afterwards we towelled each other down and Angelika didn't mind Joerg doing this for her. Again she just smiled about his hard and very erect tribute to her beauty and that he made sure there was no wet spot left on her immaculate body. We got dressed for our late dinner, we really had a good time and drank quite a lot of wine. It was already past mindnight when Angelika and I walked home, hand in hand trough the dark village - like two good friends.

The day before yesterday, when I was shopping in town, I suddenly got violently pushed in my back, so that I was first shocked and even thought of an accident or an assault. But it was in the middle of a busy shopping alley and there was no traffic, so I turned round to see what had hit me.

It was Traudl Gstöttenmayr, Traudl the Elf, some of my readers may remember her from earlier blogs (see June 11, 2006, and many more following). But I didn't recognize her at once, so much had she changed in the past months. She had gained some weight and cut her elfian hair very short - to less than an inch. She looked good: she was wearing jeans, a coulorful woolen sweater and smart leather boots. In one of her hands she was carrying a trendy bag full of groceries.

But what surprised me more was her other hand. Because in this she held the hand of a girl about her age, with black short hair and radiant eyes - obviously her girl-friend. Traudl hugged me and then introduced me to Viktoria. To her she said, "This is Alpina, my first woman lover, who showed me the way." She said this pretty loud, so that some heads already turned into our direction, but when Traudl kissed her lover deep and tonguey right there in the middle of the busy street, a few people stopped to have a better look and to disapprovingly shake their heads.

I invited them to some coffee and we chatted a little. They both were working in the same advertising agency and had found each other at work, and they were sharing a flat. And they were obviously happy, as I could see from their smiles and the fact that they could not leave their fingers from each other. And I couldn't help thinking of the few times I had licked Traudl to orgasm, how new this had been to her, and most of all I remembered her wonderful taste - like milk and honey. No other woman had ever tasted like her. And I looked at Viktoria's smiling face: I would not have wondered if she had just this wonderful taste right now lingering on her tongue ...

People say that good sex can make a beautiful woman look even more beautiful. If ever this saying was proved, it was by Angelika when she came home around lunchtime. She had taken Jean-Baptiste to the train, and now she was sitting at my kitchen table - absolutely radiant. It seemed as if a deep warm glow was emerging from her very inside; her skin was flushed and appeared even softer than usual. Her lips were swollen and very red, her eyes wide and moist. (I didn't dare imagine what other parts were like which were hidden by her elegant clothing).

Angelika didn't want to admit that Jean-Baptiste was her boyfriend, rather "a guy she had met at a concert lately and thought was very cute." And to avoid further inquiries she said she had the impression I had quite liked him, too, from the way I had looked at him all evening (did I really?) any maybe also from what she had heard from my room later. I said from what I heard he must be very good and really worthwhile knowing.

Up to now, I have not been very close to Angelika, even though she has stayed in my house for some time, maybe because of the age difference or just because of who she is, but as we were talking about her lover and started to giggle like schoolgirls, we definitely grew warmer towards each other. I said it was a pity he had to leave, we could have taken him along to Jacuzzi, and she laughed she was sure I just wanted to know what his cock was like. And while she confirmed it was as thick and long as I had expected, I admitted having fantasized last night about also sucking it, not only she.

We went on with our girls' talk for a while, and I told her I was sorry that she already had to leave on Saturday. But her holidays are over and she has to go back to Vienna, but she promised she'd come again as soon she had time.

Where would you come from when you'd say of yourself that you were a Mossi and that you also spoke Mossi? That you came from the outskirts of Ouagadougou? Yes, you'd come from Burkina Faso in Africa, you'd be pitch black and your name might be Jean-Baptiste and you'd be a student and part-time musician - and you would have been my guest last night. Maybe best of all: you'd have had sex with Phillip's beautiful daughter Angelika, my lodger for the moment.

One has to concede that Angelika certainly has a taste for the exceptional: Jean-Baptiste is very tall, good-looking and truly charismatic. I wondered some time ago who would make Angelika wet and masturbate for - I could see it in her eyes the moment he arrived that it must be definitely him - not only from the way she embraced him. His voice is deep and resonant, he speaks mainly French and a little English, and I was surprised how fluent Angelika's French is, while mine is rather limited so that I could follow the conversation but not contribute very much to it.

Angelika had cooked a wonderful meal and Jean-Baptiste visibly enjoyed it; he talked a lot about himself and what he was doing, and you could well feel the vibrant animal attraction between the two. He is really good-looking, I have to admit, and I would not have hesitated if they had wanted to have me as a third party in their bed next to my room. But they didn't - so after midnight I found myself in the unusual situation that I was thinking of putting on my earphones and listen to some classical music in order not to hear their loud and enduring love noises behind the thin wall.

But finally I didn't, but decided to make the best out of my situation, so when I masturbated I imagined Jean-Baptiste had come into my room and wanted his cock sucked by me, and only by me, the wonderful Alpina. That he looked so very much like the first black man I had ever sex with helped a lot - so I came more violently than I had thought I would. The two lovebirds must have been rather surprised to hear my loud moans from the other side - though they didn't let themselves be disturbed, and went on with what they were doing for really a long time.

What would my NN-World be like without my Gio, and without OldGeezer and Manic Panic - even in turbulent times you make sure that my blogs do not turn into a desert, as your comments tell me there is someone alive out there. So many thanks, my friends, and kisses - what would I be without you?

I really found your advice linguistically breathtaking, OldGeezer: "Spurn the P-word for a while ..." If I could only do that - but I promise I'll try. On Thursday during Jacuzzi. On Friday with my friend Aldo in the Swingers Club. I had promised to go with him there before the holidays - and I don't want to put it off any longer.

But it's not easy not to think - as I have a few free days before lessons start again. I'm trying to fill my days as good as I can - I went to town today, did some shopping and had lunch. But I was eating alone. What can I do when all at once this lunch becomes all the many lunches I have had with him, to who the P-word refers?

Now I am home again in my study. The sinking sun is slanting through my window - the valley is already in the shade and only the white mountain tops sun-drenched. Downstairs I hear Angelika clutter in the kitchen - she is such a housewife and really spoiling me, although she is so beautiful that she could easily live a life without ever cooking once. She ordered a few special things from the shops and she will cook, and she asked me if she could invite a friend. So I wonder who will be our guest tonight.