Chapter 72: Fun and Games

Lydia

There was no time for long celebrations after our surprise podium in the relay race. In fact all our baggage was already packed and loaded in the waiting plane at the airport.

Unfortunately Nadja had to wait nearly an hour until her bladder was full enough for her to pee into a cup for the doping control. This was the unceremonious downside of being a competitive athlete. But it was a necessary and effective evil. Nobody liked the negative publicity of an athlete getting caught out in a doping test, but it was a sign that they worked.

With a delay we finally made it to the airport. We all had to giggle, because Nadja had to use the loo twice during our short flight to Germany. Okay, short was perhaps a little misleading. As always on inter-European flights we were flying on Ian’s Pilatus plane instead of our jet, so the travel still took a little over two hours.

But the time was passed merrily as we mocked Nadja a bit. First she had made us all wait, because she couldn’t pee in a cup and since she had downed two bottles of water to help that process, her bladder was now very full.

Another source of merriment was the reason why we had to hot-foot it back to Germany. Young Mario had celebrated his fifteenth birthday a few days ago and Mark had promised to stage a birthday bash for him, and excitingly enough, that celebration would see the return of our silly games from the days of yore that we had entertained ourselves with during our camping holidays at the Baltic sea.

Nadja’s pee-delay had cost us an hour, but we would still make it well in time.

“Mark told me Mario’s friend Jogi will come too?” Regina asked. “He normally makes a bee-line for home.”

I nodded. “Jogi and Doreen are exclusive, but they both decided that unless it devolves into a full-fledged orgy, they can afford to have a little fun and games once or twice a year.”

“Aw shucks! No orgy?” Femke lamented theatrically and we all had to laugh.

“That means the blowjob bingo will be a proper competition this time,” Regina noted with a grin. “Although Mark will have an unfair advantage, he’ll easily guess everyone except for Doreen and Ilka.”

“Do you think Mario and Jogi will care?” I said and chuckled.

“Oh and Femke will no longer be the only muscle babe around,” Regina joined the giggling. “I nearly forgot to breathe when Doreen took off her shirt during the barbecue.”

“Is she an athlete too?” Femke asked.

“Swimmer,” I confirmed.

“Oh-ha!” Femke said. “Shoulders like a wardrobe and arms like my legs?”

“Something like that, yes,” Regina agreed. “But she looks fabulous. Well, not that hard to look fabulous when you’re over ten years younger than most of us.”

“Try twenty-three years younger,” I chipped in with a chuckle.

“You don’t count,” Regina teased me. “You’ll still look younger than any of us when you are a grandmother.”

“You realize that she already is a grandma?” Nadja added, reminding Regina that Feli existed.

“Oops, you’re right,” Regina said and giggled. “You are making my point!”

“It’s not like any of you have to be self-conscious about your looks,” I said.

Meri

We had timed the celebration for the evening to make sure that Jenny and Feli were already in bed. I knew our sometimes wayward daughter good enough to be aware that she probably suspected that we planned to do ‘some adult things’, but she was way too wary of getting into hot water with Mark by displaying undue curiosity, and besides she would never leave her room anyway while she was watching over her little sister’s sleep.

Our triumphant athletes arrived a little over an hour after we had expected them, but still way before our guests would make an appearance. Of course poor Nadja was the butt of some pee jokes again after they had told us the reason for the delay.

Mark and I had not been lazy either. While the girls and Regina had frozen their butts off in Finland for three days, I had visited Lydia’s sister Bea and had fetched one of the camping trailers we had used for our holidays back in the day. Mark and I had both been surprised at how well we still remembered how to pitch the tent after all those years.

That tent would probably stay at our place now. With the weather becoming progressively winter-like having a heated tent near the pool would go a long way to prevent any uncalled for bouts of the cold. A heated pool was awfully convenient, but of no use if you froze something off while preparing to jump into it. That was very important for Mario and Jogi, because as long as there was no snow yet, they continued to work on the construction site across the road.

Well, Germany wasn’t Finland, so although the temperatures had dipped below 10 degrees centigrade, the propane heater inside the tent and the campfire outside provided enough heat to make sure that we wouldn’t really need to wear any clothes. Even Mark had gone completely naked.

Normally he would have worn his usual, garishly colored Bermuda shorts, but apparently Ian had told him that it was actually quite fun to go completely naked. Granted, we women had made that discovery years ago. Rumor was that Ian had had that epiphany earlier that year with the help of his friend Esther, a woman that Lydia insisted had substantially bigger boobs than mine.

Considering that my big rack occasionally caused mild back problems, I wondered how that woman walked upright, if she really existed.

Our returnees didn’t need a second invitation to peel themselves out of their clothes and they all hopped into the pool to refresh themselves. I tried not to imagine what the cabin of Ian’s plane had smelled like, considering they had come home straight after the race, or as ‘straight after’ as Nadja’s little problem had allowed them to.

Normally we didn’t really use soap in the pool, but nobody had any ambitions to walk back to the house for a shower and with Mario and Jogi using it to wash off the grime twice a week, we knew the filters could easily cope with the contamination. It would take no longer than five minutes for the water to be crystal clear again.

Funnily enough, what we were preparing to do would probably have put the lot of us in front of a grand jury back in the states. But then our old home was not exactly known for its logic. Back on the other side of the big puddle nineteen year old teenagers were allowed to go to war and die for their country, but they couldn’t buy themselves a beer in case they survived.

Germany, and Europe in general, had a lot more faith in their youth apparently. Kids had sex ed at twelve, were allowed to have sex by the age of fourteen and once you were sixteen you were allowed to buy yourself beer or wine. Only hard liquor was reserved for over eighteen year olds.

If you ever asked yourself which part of Germany you were in, you only had to look at the Mopeds young folk were riding. In West Germany mopeds had always been limited to something like 20 miles per hour, so sixteen year olds could ride them. No such concerns in the East. Mopeds produced before the reunification easily hit 40 miles per hour and sixteen year olds were allowed to ride them. Those thoughts came to me when I heard the signature engine sound of such a two-stroke contraption outside. It sounded like Doreen and Jogi had arrived. Jogi was fifteen, but Doreen was seventeen and already had a driving license for such a moped, like pretty much all the teens in town.