You should have seen the crowd of people today in and outside the town church. You could feel that someone has left who was appreciated and loved by many. I was at Ruth's side - she had asked me to, but she didn't need my support: strong and proud, she looked at all the people who had come to show that her husband had been a personality who was know not only in the academic field. There were a lot of former students who had remembered their old professor and wanted to show their reverence. Many people who shook Ruth's hand shook mine, too, maybe thinking that I was a member of the family, and expressed their condolences. Would they have done it if they had known that I was merely a friend, and former student and fuck buddy?

This church service was not the place for me to say good-bye to him, in spite of the many solemn words that were spoken. I had said good-bye when I saw him last, and in a way yesterday with Aldo - when I dedicated my first orgasm to him - I told Aldo and he thought it sweet. Take this orgasm from me, Friedrich, for the one orgasm you gave me, and for all the pleasure we had together. I will miss your beautiful mind and your wonderful dinners.

I felt worse and worse yesterday afternoon, depressed and alone, being aware that right at the same moment dead Friedrich was lying somewhere alone in a cold place. Dead and alone. I almost felt like it, too. Elsie and Joerg as well as Tanja were not at home - their answering machines sounded pleasant and cheerful. I couldn't contact Ruth, nor one of my colleagues. Finally I went to town to be among people - but the bar I sometimes go to have a drink was closed on a Sunday. I ended up in a cafe, eating cake amongst a crowd of cake-eating families. But there was noboby I knew.

So I phoned Aldo. He is a friend I see now and then, convinced bachelor and Italo-Austrian. He was home and sounded very pleased when he heard me on the phone. "Aldo, I need your help," I said, and he understood the code word at once. He said he'd be with me in about two hours, enough time for me to travel home on the bus.

The code word means: "Aldo, I want your cock." And he knew it. In the course of the years he had got a number of emergency phone calls like that from me. Incidentally Aldo is a really sweet guy, and the man with the biggest cock I know. It's very, very big, true XXL, and beauiful, and he has extraordinary command over it. He can stay hard for exactly as long as he wants, and then cum like a flood when he thinks it is appropriate. He is the guy I was at a Swinger Club with a few times some years ago. Some of you may remember.

It was not hard for him to fill my inner emptiness and to give me the feeling back that I was really alive. He fucked me until I could let loose again, and follow his rhythm, and feel only him, and until orgasms shook me from side to side. Then, I was still wriggling and moaning frantically, he rolled off his condom and spurted all over me the way he likes it best: from my hair over my face, my breast down to my tummy.

It was a good experience, Aldo was exactly what I needed on this sad and rainy late Sunday afternoon. When we got out and had a nude swim in my pool, the evening sun even came out for a bit. There is one thing, though, which might give me some food for extra thought: once, in the middle of the action, I promised Aldo to go to the Swinger Club with him again - as soon as we found some time.

What a rainy, dark Sunday. Phillip was on the phone late yesterday - and he didn't have much time. He told me of an important social function he had attended, and he sounded quite excited. There was hushed laughter in the background, I could hear that well. It did not sound like a crowd, not even a group. He was not particularly interested in what I told him about Friedrich, or about the kidnapping story. We rang off soon. No mentioning of feelings of any kind. Had I expected any?

( My horror: Phillip is lying on his bed naked when my call reaches him. There is a girl sitting on his beautiful, hard cock and riding him as he talks to me. The girl is laughing, and he tries to stop her - in vain. He does not want to cum with me on the phone, so he makes sure we ring off just in time, so that I can't hear his familiar moan ... )

I ought to correct some texts - but I can't concentrate. I feel imprisoned, too, although I do not know what keeps me prisoner. Maybe it's me myself. I am restless, I feel empty. Yes, I did masturbate, but it just increased the emptiness inside me. I must go out and find some company before the roof crashes onto my head and squeezes me flat. I must, must, must ...

Ruth did feel like going out for lunch, and I must say her way of mouring impresses me a lot. She is not sad or depressed about her loss like many people are in her situation, she is very calm, even cheerful in a subdued way. "It has been a good time and he has given me so much in the long time we were married," she told me, "at the same time we have not been physically close for years. I will always remember what we shared, our journeys, our long conversations, our common enjoyment of food and wines. But my life will go on, and I am intent on enjoying it as long as I have it."

And she told me about the time when they were younger, and she did this in such a lively and graphic way that we had to laugh aloud, so people maybe thought we were celebrating, not mourning someone. But like everyone in Austria these days we were soon talking about the bizarre story which has been all over the news for days and who has shocked the whole nation.

In 1998 a 10-year-old girl was kidnapped and held prisoner in the cellar of a house for eight years. The kidnapper had carefully planned and built the prison in advance, with toilet and washbasin and all, before he had committed the crime. But he did not only sexually abuse the girl, he virtually lived with her, even educated her with the help of school books, it seems that she also spent quite some time outside her prison and was seen by other people. Some days ago, though, when she was supposed to hoover the man's BMW, she escaped and was rescued, while the man immediately committed suicide by throwing himself under an express train.

Now of course everyone is waiting for the savoury details. Magazines will offer million-euro deals and film companies will fight each other getting the rights. And the poor girl will be a victim again, this time of the media, and it's hard to predict which ordeal will be more damaging in the long run.

Awkward - very awkward indeed. Already for the second time, I had an invitation from Phillip's boss to spend Sunday afternoon on his yacht on the Lake of Constance, the way we used to do it a few times before Phillip left for London. "Why should we not have a nice afternoon even in Phillip's absence", as I in a way belonged to the Publishing House, too. The first time I said I had no time, for tomorrow I said a close friend had died, but I finally agreed to going next Sunday. I asked Phillip what he thought of it and he said I should agree: The Old Man was really nice, and he had been particularly helpful to him with his job and the flat in London, so he certainly deserved my company. That's why I said I would come. Still I don't quite know what to think of it.

I tried to reach Phillip on the phone before, but he was not there, so I'll try later. I'm going to see Ruth now, as I promised. Maybe we'll have dinner somewhere together if she feels like it. Or I'll sit with her and talk - whatever she prefers.

I have just noticed there have already been more than 15'000 visits too my blog. Thank you all for this, I hope you can enjoy my words and qietly participate in my life. I can feel so many positive thoughts - they are certainly yours. Special thanks to my close friends who keep supporting me with their wise and positive comments. This would be an empty and lone place without you. Also many thanks for your messages - I know I don't always answer them appropriately and often it's only short. You should know that they please me a lot and I hope you can see my blogs as some kind of an answer to them.

Friedrich is dead. Yesterday, possibly while I was sitting in the jacuzzi and celebrating life, his life function stopped. Ruth phoned me today and told me. Like when my parents died, I felt again how words failed me - how useful would it be in such a situation to have some kind of religious belief to console Ruth by saying that he is somewhere else, somewhere more beautiful now. But neither she nor I really think so: he is dead, his life is over, where there was a warm beating heart, there is now just the beginning desintegration of matter. This makes you mute. I will see Ruth tomorrow, and I am sure we will mourn together in a way. And we'll try to make sure that the only immortal part of Friedrich will live as long as possible - our loving memories.

It's already cool here in the evening, so walking through the garden in the nude before jacuzzi has become quite a chilly pleasure again - the lovelier is getting into the warm bubbly water and being thoroughly warmed up. We played at Garden Eden, Elsie and I, picking some apples to see if they are ripe, and Joerg enjoyed our Double-Eve act: he wondered what the world would have come to if God had not been so economical and had created two women for Adam - maybe paradise would never have ended.

It was a good evening again, and quietly sexy in our usual way as we were gently stroking Elsie to a fine little orgasm. Grisi was not there, and I was not unhappy - it is so hard to integrate someone without changing the atmosphere too much. Speaking about changes: I had to laugh the other day when Elsie wondered if we could not invite another guy once in a while, as a little countermeasure against Joerg's Sheik of the Harem fantasies. I must say I was not as enthusistic as she was.

Good old Elsie - she, too, has gone some way in this past year: from the quite inhibited housewife (never with me, though) with limited sexual preferences she has developed and learnt to enjoy oral and anal sex with Joerg, and now she seems ready for even further and more daring experiences. Where will this take you, Elsie?

While reading yesterday's blog, I am amazed how much things have changed for me, how much I have maybe changed myself. Last year at this time, I was a woman of quite firm opinions who resolutely arranged her social life according to her desires and needs - I felt independent and fully in charge. If I felt like it, I took myself a man - they are so easy to get and I have never been refused by anyone I thought worth having. My prime rule was not to do it more than once (or once in a while) with the same guy, in order to escape the predominant male attitude that they think they own a woman they have bedded and can start deciding over her. It was quite lovely and intensive - never any routine and the guys knew that this was their only chance in a lifetime and tried to make it a success and a good memory.

I tried out things, too, let my bad Sister Hyde side take over and guide me sometimes, I went to a swinger club with my friend Aldo, once I even took money from a guy who thought I was a whore, while I was waiting for a friend in a bar in Zürich.

And now? I have met Phillip - I can't say if I fell in love, but he means a lot to me, and what is more: having sex with him does unexpected things to my mind, so that I totally lose control. And with him I can do it again and again. And again. And my body does not get tired of him, but needs him like a sexual addict (How my body misses him ....). And my desire for other guys has dwindled - not totally, there are still holidays, and sudden urges ... I have broken down some fences, too: I have had sex with women - which I had never done before. It pleased me to give them lust, I must admit, even if I didn't feel so much myself. Only with Maria - Maria is different.

But when a year ago most things in my life, particularly my sexual contacts, were well-ordered and under my control, it's different now - I'm not totally in charge of myself anymore. I am driven in a way I would never have thought. And with this, other things have begun to change, too: opinions, certainties, my whole inner life. So that I wonder where this will lead me eventually.

This is from an old blog, which I wrote here long ago under a different name. So some of you might have read it already - it's about how I met Friedrich.

It was a few years ago when I attended a literature course, when I had sex with a man who was in his early seventies. In fact it was the oldest person I ever slept with. The course had been fantastic, and the professor proved so wise and knowledgable, he had such a deep understanding of literature and its meaning, and whatever he said was so accurate and full of human kindness that he took my breath away. I love good-looking and athletic guys, I love guys with a good sense of humour or a good size of cock, but most of all I fall for men who are intelligent and imaginative. Then age does not really matter for me.

After the last evening he invited the group of students into his house; I knew that he was married, but there was no wife to be seen anywhere. Instead we had good food and drinks, and even better conversations, and while student after student said goodbye and left, I stayed behind. Finally there were only the two of us, and our conversation went on and on. I complemented him on his fantastic course and he said he'd loved me being such an attentive and enthusiastic student, and so on.

It got very late and we had some more drinks, we talked about everything, and finally about dreams of ours and about realizing them. He said I would probably laugh, but a dream of his had always been to eat some fruit from the naked body of a girl - although this was certainly ridiculous. But it was so had to control dreams, wasn't it?

I did not hesitate. I asked him if he had fruit in his house, and when he agreed, I took off all my clothes. I first helped him cut the fruit into little pieces. His hands were pretty shaky with the knife. Then I lay down on the kitchen table and he decorated me with the fruit. And then he ate them from me: with his fingers, and with his mouth, and now and then he fed me. He was like in a trance.

Later, he had nicely cleaned me with a towel, we had sex on the sofa in the living-room. I could well see that he was worried, but I used my lips to help him get hard, which usually is quite effective, and so I could feel him well when he entered me, and he could feel me. He brought me to an orgasm (I would also have faked one for him) and then he came, too. He was so very greatful, he thanked me and there were even a few tears in his eyes. He didn't tell me if realizing his dream had been a good experience for him. But he knew this was the only time this would happen, and that it was now over for good.

Quite a number of people have called my blog a soap - and I don't really mind. What is a soap? An almost never ending series of trivialities about some people's lives which can be quite entertaining, but finally is of no consequence. Why not see it this way? I neither want to educate, nor tell anyone how he or she has to organize his or her life. I do not wish to give anyone a piece of my mind, as I am a person of few opinions anyway. I try to judge people by what they do, not by what they believe.

I write here what I do, and what some people around me do, what we do together and how we do it. While I know that my personal soap entertains some, it will certainly bore others. I am happy that for some it's more than only that: I know they feel with me, they advise me, they share my pleasures and my sadness. These people mean a lot to me.

Particularly as my soap is now also about someone dying. I do not want to write much about this, I love this blog to be a cheerful place. Still it is part of my present life, and that's why I mention it although it's not a pleasant topic and not at all entertaining. Friedrich is still alive, but no-one knows for how much longer. I don't want to say more. Ruth is a wonderful wife and companion, she is at his side almost day and night. And when Friedrich is clear, they speak about their lives and what beautiful moments they have shared in the decades of their marriage. And when Friedrich can't talk, their conversation goes on with their eyes.

I hope that one day, when I am in his situation, there is someone so wonderful at my side, too. When I look at my present life, I am sometimes afraid that this will not be the case. Who would want to be with me, when I am old and withered?