shaven, but... (Patreon)

I can't really go into details here on this page, which is (in my  opinion) a bit a pity, because sometimes I would like to tell freely  from my life (for those who are interested) and also to describe in  undisguised language the many tingling incidents that for me make up so  much of my quality of life. But here I must hold back and leave it to  you to imagine for yourself what is hidden between the lines.

Certainly,  since I discovered in my early youth what is different about female  beings than about me, the fascination for just this special has never  left me. I don't just mean the physical differences that are so  irresistibly attractive to me (especially when hairy...), but more  generally the closeness to women, feeling their vibrations, their  feminine power. Nevertheless, I was actually always quite a well-behaved  and reserved man who loved to live in (well, more or less) monogamous  relationships.

Since childhood, I have always been with *one*  woman. First of all, of course, with my single mother, a loving gentle  as well as strong woman. As a child of divorce, I dreamed of an intact  family and so I became a father at the age of 18, married for the first  time and was soon given a second child by this pretty, equally young  woman. I was certainly 100% faithful to her during 5 years and in the  following two years I had only two one-time adventures and one short,  however, very intense relationship of a few weeks with an insatiable,  wild redhead, whose very direct offers could probably only be resisted  by a man who was made of hard wood. So not me.

After my divorce  (not because of my infidelity, which never came to light), two or three  wild years began for me. I was 25, "voll im Saft" as they say in German,  tall, slim, long-haired. With the flair of an unconventional budding  artist (a big plus in the early 80s) I seemed very attractive to girls  and I hardly ever said no (I was never a pickup artist type, it was  almost always the women who came up to me and made the start). But  despite all the erotic pleasure, also in a one-year sensual relationship  with a runner-up of Miss Switzerland, I continued to long for the *one*  woman.

One evening I was sitting in my favorite pub, the  "Atlantis" in Basel, a place where famous blues and rock musicians  performed in the evenings. There my first wife had already approached me  (she was sitting with friends at the next table and demanded that I  repeat a sentence I had said to my friends, "because you have such a  beautiful voice" - the reason why I have two children...).

This  evening I noticed two women sitting at the bar, especially one, the  beautiful slim blonde. As they were leaving the bar she walked past me  and said "bye!". After a brief confusion about the greeting (did I know  her and had forgotten?) I followed the two inconspicuously and ended up  quite by chance in the same other in pub where the two disappeared, and  just as by chance found a seat at their table.

As I learned  later, the two of them laughed among themselves about this  "inconspicuousness" and "randomness". I was obviously not the practiced  actor and cool poker face I thought I was. But two or three hours later,  the blonde and I were lying on the floor of her living room, making  love. And it stayed that way for the next 25 years.

Except for  the last two years, we had a true dream relationship. We traveled  together, we worked together (she was my officially employed, extremely  valuable assistant in my photo studio for a long time), the whole city  of Basel knew us as the inseparable dream couple, the great love. It  should last forever, but it did not.

After my separation I moved  to Barcelona, where as a 52 year old man I met the 24 year old Yana, a  wild Latina girl who blew my mind and who fulfilled everything a man (or  at least I) could dream of. She moved in with me, I dreamed again of  having found the *one* woman, and for a few short years we lived an  "amour fou" like in a picture book, which, however, ended like an erotic  thriller without a happy ending...

Now I was 55 years old. An  aging single, full of self-doubt, full of longing for a firm, lasting  relationship, full of lovesickness, alone in a (no longer quite) foreign  city in a (no longer quite) foreign culture. I suffered like a dog,  because even though it was me who had ended the relationship (there were  a few things I couldn't stand by any stretch of the imagination) it  took me a long time to come to terms with the loss.

Then my really wild years began.

Barcelona  is a tough city, but it's also the ideal place for a single person  hungry for life and love, because it's full of countless other singles  just as hungry for life and love.

The opportunities piled up and I took advantage of them.

True,  finding models has never been easy. It is something completely  different to be photographed for erotic pictures which the whole world  can see afterwards, than to give oneself unrestrainedly to the lust of  the moment, of which nobody knows anything except the involved ones. And  to indulge in these fleeting pleasures of the moment is something that  quite obviously a lot of people in Barcelona want. Does the extremely  dirty air contain anything other than exhaust fumes and particulate  matter that spurs people on sexually? Or is it the water?

Rarely,  but sometimes I was allowed to take a few photos and even more rarely,  but still sometimes, in the morning the woman of that night even signed  the consent to publish the photos. As for these of the small series,  which I have uploaded as an "insight into my private life" for you  today.

Barcelona is unique. But in one thing the city is  unfortunately not different from all the others: practically all women  are shaved. Of course, you don't know that until she's already naked in  your bed, on the sofa or on the table. And then it's too late to say no.

But to be honest: I would not have said no if I had known before!