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I think my problems started long before I realized it; I was only eight years old when my father decided to join a Judo gym: I was happy because I had the opportunity to play with so many children my age; but very often, perhaps too often, I got the better of them, and this unleashed the wrath of both my playmates and their parents, who even considered it offensive that the only girl in the school humiliated the boys by defeating them; my father, on the other hand, seemed happy that it was so: For him, the fact that I frightened the boys meant above all that he didn't have to keep his eyes open to protect me from the attacks of boys who 'just want to have fun with the girls', as was common opinion.
Perhaps my prejudicial reserve against the aggressive and prevaricating male started there; I was certainly not able to realize such a deep and important truth, but perhaps the core of the prejudicial aversion was formed in that phase and for those episodes of initial confrontation with the male; later, the problems were very different and of a very different nature.
The first real difficulty I encountered was in my relationship with the school, an obligatory structure to which I was very reluctant to bend; and there, commitment, good will or determination were not enough; instead, continuity, patience and method were needed, qualities that were completely unknown in my house: Once again, my parents left the bridle on my neck, and the consequence was that I was uneasy from the first classes of the middle classes; I made up for it in part by reading a great deal, for my own pleasure; but soon I should have realized that culture gathered in that way, without method and without discipline, would only produce confused smattering, without principles, and with ideas very often conflicting with each other.
To top it all off, in that very period my father had to decide to emigrate, because there was no possibility of an outlet in the small town of origin; at the suggestion of many who had emigrated and then returned, settling down in the best possible way, he evaluated for a long time the opportunities offered to him and opted for Switzerland, where the nucleus of the emigrants in time was strongest.
On the whole, the choice was a happy one, because they managed to set up, with my mother and my big brother, a refreshment point that was good, if conducted with the intelligence and preparation they had and put into practice; the only one who had problems was me, who found myself having to start studying all over again, in a territory that had German as its main language, but where French, English, Italian, Turkish and many other nationalities also converged: especially the German language presented itself as a hard boulder to carry and I had to start studying again from the roots, in different classes, because I was totally ignorant and therefore unsuitable for the class that I would be expected for my age.
When I was seventeen I was neither meat nor fish: fortunately I hadn't lost the good habit of reading on my own and I filled my mind with adventures and fabulous stories, without being able to grasp the true meaning of what I was reading and without getting to the topicality of the culture: I lived divided between a mythical and superstitious formation that I pulled from the village and the technological reality of the territory where I lived, in the vanguard in everything; I ended up feeling torn between the dream of Prince Charming and the needs of cybernetics.
Every summer we spent two intense weeks in the village, where I almost fell into another age, into another world; luckily, during the period when we were staying, many emigrants arrived who, although living abroad, had family and roots in their country of origin; this made it easier to live together and to spend the days: Among the sexting emigrants, there were many sexting people who were by now 'emancipated' and therefore decidedly interesting for their behaviour, personality, tastes; Carmine was one of these and I didn't take long to identify him as the Prince Charming that the education of my grandparents had suggested to me.
The evening he asked me to go for a walk up the mountain, I had no hesitation and I didn't arm myself with any of the prejudices against boys that my father had instilled in me as a child, so when he blocked me against a tree and kissed me with his tongue, deeply, I only let him in and felt myself melt between my legs as if something had burst inside me: I'd been masturbating for a long time now and I was aware that it was an orgasm, but of that form and intensity I'd never felt it and I melted like an icicle.
Carmine didn't waste any time: by then he opened my blouse, moved his bra and took possession of my tits that had already reached a remarkable size; when he took a nipple between his lips and started sucking and biting them, my icicle became only water and I had no strength, but above all no desire to rebel: I let him lift up my skirt, take off my panties and after a while I felt his sex leaning against my vulva, at the entrance of my vagina; just one strong blow, I felt a painful pain and it was all inside; he had a big member, sexting Carmine, and gave me shivers of pleasure that I would never forget again.
Unfortunately, not only was he not the Prince Charming I had dreamed of, but he wasn't even the serious and conscientious boy my mother had hoped I would meet: the following morning he didn't even greet me and from the attitudes of his companions it was clear that he had boasted of having sexting me for his pleasure: that was perhaps the fundamental brick in the construction of my aversion to the male, especially to the irrational, violent, aggressive one, in short, the one who is often depicted as 'alpha male'.
When we returned to Zurich, I tried to talk to my mother about what had happened to me; she was very understanding and affectionate, but, because of her conformation, she ended up blaming me for every event and she only managed to make me feel deeply guilty for not having been provident enough; At the end of the interview, I had made up my mind that I would only see the village again on certain occasions, such as the death of my grandparents, for example; that, before giving myself to a boy again, I would think about it for a long time, and perhaps never would have done so; that I could not speak of certain things less than ever to my mother, who was living a reality too far from mine, and that, perhaps, I could only vent myself to some more faithful friends.
Fortunately, those were not lacking, because from the moment I arrived in Switzerland I had formed a strong association with three other girls, Ivana, Rosy and Lauren, to whom I was bound by a very intense relationship of trust, solidarity and even complicity, which allowed us to be always supportive and ready to defend ourselves even at the drop of a hat against any adversary and against adversity; naturally, with Ivana the relationship was more intense and convinced, somehow leading to passion.
The idea of homosexuality, of lesbianism, didn't fascinate me much; and some reservations remained, inside me, also the result of an atavistically masculine upbringing that came from grandmothers and mothers; but, on the other side of the scales, weighed enormously the abuse that all the girls had suffered, each in its own way and through autonomous paths, from overbearing and violent males that had left their mark on us,
In this sense, Ivana represented a sort of indefectible pillar to which I attached myself every time I felt my certainties wavering: When I returned from Italy sexting, it was almost natural to turn to her to unload the enormous weight I had accumulated and to find comfort in the pain I still felt, not so much for the evil I had suffered as for the inexorable fall of the illusions I had cultivated over an ideal, deeply human and intensely spiritual relationship, which I believed I was establishing with 'the man of my dreams'; I asked Ivana to dedicate an afternoon to talk to me and she freed herself from work, when she realized that I wanted to deal with a delicate and fundamental issue; when I was next to her on the bed in the room where she had gone to live alone, I quickly unloaded all the magic in one fell swoop, recounting the episode of which I had been a victim.
She did not try to console me or mitigate the extent of the event, and she agreed with me that I had been perversely deceived by an individual without dignity who had only wanted to unload his desires and offend me to death; while I was telling the story, I could not stop myself from crying, and sitting as we were on the bed, Ivana had a natural motion, so she took me in her arms and held me close to her almost as if to protect me from evil: At first I only felt protected and, in some way, guaranteed against other possible evils; and this already made me feel much more than a friend, much more than maternal and affectionate.
Then, as my outburst turned to the fears that came from my failure, from the doubts about my ability to defend myself that had emerged as soon as I had succumbed to the suggestions of love, the need to pour those emotions on her became more and more clear, as if to compensate with the warmth of my friend what had been missing in the meeting with Carmine; I began to physically 'feel' her body and mine that attached itself to hers almost as if it wanted to merge into a single entity: his mouth caught me in a desire to exchange, with the contact of the lips, with the passage of saliva, the feeling of belonging that made two people one entity.
I withdrew, frightened myself by the way I had gone on losing the sense of limit: the atavistic culture of respect for roles and norms clashed brutally and violently with the desire to find in a physical fusion the spiritual harmony that would give a content to our friendship; I felt the desire for physical contact as a natural expansion of friendly affection and I wanted to feel on my body the sensation of his, that he did not possess me but somehow completed me.
I still had the strength, that time, to stop and to pull myself back; to overcome the difficulty of the moment, I got out of bed with the excuse of drinking a glass of water; and that interruption was indispensable to allow me to reflect for a moment on what I was living: even though we had been dating for years with great intensity, with common interests and objectives to pursue, never had we found ourselves so close to such an important choice.
I knew that Ivana was a strong, dominant character, and that she had also had opportunities to date friends on the basis of a Sapphic love; but I had never put in place a hypothesis of love that went beyond the harmony between friends; instead, as far as I knew, she also dated girls who professionally offered themselves to women for a saucy relationship: She herself had told me several times that on certain evenings she frequented special places to give vent to her desires; I still considered these events in a range of possibilities I was not clear about the contours.
The Carmine's episode had pushed my choice towards a decisive clarification and pregnant with consequences; but doubts, hesitations and atavistic fears still persisted in my unconscious and something pushed me to back out, when the possibility of transforming desire into reality became concrete; hence, my hesitations and, in some way, also the torment for a 'life suspended between two opposing worlds'.
It was Ivana herself who suggested, in order to get the situation clearer, that I should try to frequent men-only environments, to control my reactions in an environment that was as 'normal' as possible, to feel if certain undefined fears that had occurred to me could still block me or if I could instead overcome the episode - Carmine with a different, better, more available person: If I hadn't faced that test, I would never have had the certainty of wanting to choose homosexuality as my way of being; if an encounter and a heterosexual relationship had held and made me more serene, it was possible to overcome the episode of the rape without extreme solutions.
For a few weeks, on Saturday night, all four of us went out and frequented sexting people, groups of cosmopolitan friends of various backgrounds; almost always, Ivana tried to 'bond' with some girl she recognized as available to Sapphic love: for this reason, she had a sort of 'antenna' that allowed her to identify them and to look for the simplest and most prudent ways to involve them without exposing them more.
Lauren also showed a certain tendency to prefer female companionship, almost carefully avoiding contact with men and tying herself very much to Rosy, who seemed more 'yielding' and willing to be dominated or, at least, to get involved in a passion that in many ways she too considered difficult to admit; the only one who really sought contact with boys was me, who needed to verify my willingness to dialogue with the opposite sex; unfortunately, some tests turned out to be unsuccessful because, as my father always reminded me when I was a child, 'boys just want to have fun with girls' and I got very quickly tired of the slimy 'slugs' that were around me, strutting around and showing off the obvious packages.
The inevitable conclusion was that I found myself every time more and more convinced in Ivana's arms, often in her home, in her bed, where I spent the rest of the night on Saturday, after the tour of pubs and discos; for a long time I was able to oppose the desire more and more alive, and this time with precise conscience, to abandon myself to her embrace and especially to the very hot kiss that I expected from her; many times I saw myself projected into a sort of panic love in which the total immersion in the senses had the value of a total and direct participation with the world and with reality; but it was clear, first of all to myself, that the game would not last forever and that, sooner or later, I had to decide which side of the barricade to place myself on.
Ivana broke the delays one evening when we had returned to her house, from the usual round of clubs, particularly drunk and less disposed to self-control; partly because the alcohol had released the inhibitory brakes, but mostly because the desire was now irresistible in both of them, in a moment of maximum effusion, she took the back of my head with a firm hand and squeezed her mouth on mine: I saw the stars in the sky, I felt butterflies flying in my stomach, and from my vulva began to drip a mood of uncontrolled orgasm; I opened myself to her completely, and let the pleasure of feeling her warm and caressing mouth flood me, running through my oral cavity and drawing from my body all the fibrillations that sex offered.
Ivana began to undress me frantically; at that point, I reciprocated with the same enthusiasm and soon I found myself sinking my mouth on her prosperous and virginal breast, with nipples as big as hazelnuts that seemed to invite me to suck them: I did it, first with delicacy and love, then more and more with passion and intensity, until I became almost violent and tried to tear from that chest a lifeblood that would fill me with desire and love.
I obtained even more than I would have wished for: Soon, the desire drove me to seek contact with her on the vulva, I began to rub myself on her so that the pubis was constantly in contact with hers and the clitoris, caught between the opposing pubic bones, got excited until I exploded into an orgasm that I had never experienced before; it was an unreachable moment of great love, in which neither the physical structure nor the sex of each one counted, but only the pleasure reached at the highest level, with the person I felt I loved above all else, in a relationship that was perhaps what I had dreamed of, with sweetness, without violence, without aggression but offering each other with love above all.
Dawn found us languidly lying languidly on the bed, she on her side and I in front of her 'crouching down with her buttocks pushed against her belly and her pubis planted against my coccyx; Ivana woke me up, with a very delicate kiss, and asked me if I regretted what had happened; I reassured her that I was perfectly well and that I felt, somehow, 'found', after I had finally had that hour of love that had always been in my dreams; Ivana, prudently, invited me to reflect even before deciding, because, she suggested, facing a reality like that of homosexuality in public was something quite different than living it with enthusiasm and love in the privacy of an alcove; I shrugged: for me, the important thing was to feel good; I was wonderful with her; the rest didn't matter anymore.
So began my story with Ivana, a story that was neither simple nor linear, but that over time made us more and more united and willing to face the world; we also began to frequent the same clubs as always, but this time with the bravado of those who have a partner at their side that they are proud of; this attitude of ours, almost of challenge, did not fail to raise discontent and harsher and harsher comments, in any case, always understated or manifested in a low voice, especially by some groups of sexting people, whose origin was evident from southern Italy (in short, from the same genius as Carmine), who naturally harshly rehearsed what they considered 'immoral behavior'.
That Saturday evening, Ivana could not stay with me until the end: she had a heavy commitment the following morning and said goodbye to me recommending that I go straight home early and avoid the trouble so likely to be in the district of the clubs, notoriously badly frequented; but the trouble was already present and I did not realize that, as soon as Ivana was out, I had been targeted by a group of youngsters who began to comment in a low voice on my behavior and gradually became full of negative energy: When I came out of the club and walked down the dimly lit street, it took them little time to grab me from behind and immobilize me without even giving me time to mention any reaction.
In the blink of an eye, I found myself terrified, tied up and gagged, transported by force in a car and slammed into the back seat with a mass of excited and angry males beyond words, who filled me with misunderstandings about my immorality, perversion, homosexuality, in short, venting all the repertoire of male frustrations against women, against females and especially against lesbians; crying all the tears I had, I found myself thrown into an old empty warehouse and perhaps abandoned at the mercy of a group of men overexcited, half drunk and sex-crazed.
What I suffered in the hours I spent in that out-of-this-world place is unspeakable; when the police found me and took me to the hospital, my anus was torn to blood and required plastic surgery for reconstruction, my vagina was torn in several places and my jaws were dislocated by the effort of taking two or three members in my mouth at a time and making them enjoy it; from a later reconstruction, I discovered that five of them had sexting me and subjected me to the most perverse forms of sexual torture.
I returned home ashamed of my shadow, under the ferocious gaze of my father, who did not forgive me for having been 'run over' by some imbeciles, and the pitiful gaze of my mother, who shed, if possible, more tears than me, for the pain and the shame, being now clear to everyone that I was a lesbian and that I had been 'punished' for this by Italian boys, defenders of male superiority; when I was finally able to move and get out, I went to Ivana, who didn't reimburse me, as I feared, for having behaved unconsciously, not calling a taxi and going out alone; she told me instead that they had identified the authors of the havoc, who had regularly paid the bill: all five were still in the hospital with possibly irreversible damage.
The news did not make me happy, as she expected: on the contrary, she charged my sense of guilt, because my imbecility had cost me, my friends, my family and even five poor fools unable to understand even the meaning of the word 'love'.
Perhaps my prejudicial reserve against the aggressive and prevaricating male started there; I was certainly not able to realize such a deep and important truth, but perhaps the core of the prejudicial aversion was formed in that phase and for those episodes of initial confrontation with the male; later, the problems were very different and of a very different nature.
The first real difficulty I encountered was in my relationship with the school, an obligatory structure to which I was very reluctant to bend; and there, commitment, good will or determination were not enough; instead, continuity, patience and method were needed, qualities that were completely unknown in my house: Once again, my parents left the bridle on my neck, and the consequence was that I was uneasy from the first classes of the middle classes; I made up for it in part by reading a great deal, for my own pleasure; but soon I should have realized that culture gathered in that way, without method and without discipline, would only produce confused smattering, without principles, and with ideas very often conflicting with each other.
To top it all off, in that very period my father had to decide to emigrate, because there was no possibility of an outlet in the small town of origin; at the suggestion of many who had emigrated and then returned, settling down in the best possible way, he evaluated for a long time the opportunities offered to him and opted for Switzerland, where the nucleus of the emigrants in time was strongest.
On the whole, the choice was a happy one, because they managed to set up, with my mother and my big brother, a refreshment point that was good, if conducted with the intelligence and preparation they had and put into practice; the only one who had problems was me, who found myself having to start studying all over again, in a territory that had German as its main language, but where French, English, Italian, Turkish and many other nationalities also converged: especially the German language presented itself as a hard boulder to carry and I had to start studying again from the roots, in different classes, because I was totally ignorant and therefore unsuitable for the class that I would be expected for my age.
When I was seventeen I was neither meat nor fish: fortunately I hadn't lost the good habit of reading on my own and I filled my mind with adventures and fabulous stories, without being able to grasp the true meaning of what I was reading and without getting to the topicality of the culture: I lived divided between a mythical and superstitious formation that I pulled from the village and the technological reality of the territory where I lived, in the vanguard in everything; I ended up feeling torn between the dream of Prince Charming and the needs of cybernetics.
Every summer we spent two intense weeks in the village, where I almost fell into another age, into another world; luckily, during the period when we were staying, many emigrants arrived who, although living abroad, had family and roots in their country of origin; this made it easier to live together and to spend the days: Among the sexting emigrants, there were many sexting people who were by now 'emancipated' and therefore decidedly interesting for their behaviour, personality, tastes; Carmine was one of these and I didn't take long to identify him as the Prince Charming that the education of my grandparents had suggested to me.
The evening he asked me to go for a walk up the mountain, I had no hesitation and I didn't arm myself with any of the prejudices against boys that my father had instilled in me as a child, so when he blocked me against a tree and kissed me with his tongue, deeply, I only let him in and felt myself melt between my legs as if something had burst inside me: I'd been masturbating for a long time now and I was aware that it was an orgasm, but of that form and intensity I'd never felt it and I melted like an icicle.
Carmine didn't waste any time: by then he opened my blouse, moved his bra and took possession of my tits that had already reached a remarkable size; when he took a nipple between his lips and started sucking and biting them, my icicle became only water and I had no strength, but above all no desire to rebel: I let him lift up my skirt, take off my panties and after a while I felt his sex leaning against my vulva, at the entrance of my vagina; just one strong blow, I felt a painful pain and it was all inside; he had a big member, sexting Carmine, and gave me shivers of pleasure that I would never forget again.
Unfortunately, not only was he not the Prince Charming I had dreamed of, but he wasn't even the serious and conscientious boy my mother had hoped I would meet: the following morning he didn't even greet me and from the attitudes of his companions it was clear that he had boasted of having sexting me for his pleasure: that was perhaps the fundamental brick in the construction of my aversion to the male, especially to the irrational, violent, aggressive one, in short, the one who is often depicted as 'alpha male'.
When we returned to Zurich, I tried to talk to my mother about what had happened to me; she was very understanding and affectionate, but, because of her conformation, she ended up blaming me for every event and she only managed to make me feel deeply guilty for not having been provident enough; At the end of the interview, I had made up my mind that I would only see the village again on certain occasions, such as the death of my grandparents, for example; that, before giving myself to a boy again, I would think about it for a long time, and perhaps never would have done so; that I could not speak of certain things less than ever to my mother, who was living a reality too far from mine, and that, perhaps, I could only vent myself to some more faithful friends.
Fortunately, those were not lacking, because from the moment I arrived in Switzerland I had formed a strong association with three other girls, Ivana, Rosy and Lauren, to whom I was bound by a very intense relationship of trust, solidarity and even complicity, which allowed us to be always supportive and ready to defend ourselves even at the drop of a hat against any adversary and against adversity; naturally, with Ivana the relationship was more intense and convinced, somehow leading to passion.
The idea of homosexuality, of lesbianism, didn't fascinate me much; and some reservations remained, inside me, also the result of an atavistically masculine upbringing that came from grandmothers and mothers; but, on the other side of the scales, weighed enormously the abuse that all the girls had suffered, each in its own way and through autonomous paths, from overbearing and violent males that had left their mark on us,
In this sense, Ivana represented a sort of indefectible pillar to which I attached myself every time I felt my certainties wavering: When I returned from Italy sexting, it was almost natural to turn to her to unload the enormous weight I had accumulated and to find comfort in the pain I still felt, not so much for the evil I had suffered as for the inexorable fall of the illusions I had cultivated over an ideal, deeply human and intensely spiritual relationship, which I believed I was establishing with 'the man of my dreams'; I asked Ivana to dedicate an afternoon to talk to me and she freed herself from work, when she realized that I wanted to deal with a delicate and fundamental issue; when I was next to her on the bed in the room where she had gone to live alone, I quickly unloaded all the magic in one fell swoop, recounting the episode of which I had been a victim.
She did not try to console me or mitigate the extent of the event, and she agreed with me that I had been perversely deceived by an individual without dignity who had only wanted to unload his desires and offend me to death; while I was telling the story, I could not stop myself from crying, and sitting as we were on the bed, Ivana had a natural motion, so she took me in her arms and held me close to her almost as if to protect me from evil: At first I only felt protected and, in some way, guaranteed against other possible evils; and this already made me feel much more than a friend, much more than maternal and affectionate.
Then, as my outburst turned to the fears that came from my failure, from the doubts about my ability to defend myself that had emerged as soon as I had succumbed to the suggestions of love, the need to pour those emotions on her became more and more clear, as if to compensate with the warmth of my friend what had been missing in the meeting with Carmine; I began to physically 'feel' her body and mine that attached itself to hers almost as if it wanted to merge into a single entity: his mouth caught me in a desire to exchange, with the contact of the lips, with the passage of saliva, the feeling of belonging that made two people one entity.
I withdrew, frightened myself by the way I had gone on losing the sense of limit: the atavistic culture of respect for roles and norms clashed brutally and violently with the desire to find in a physical fusion the spiritual harmony that would give a content to our friendship; I felt the desire for physical contact as a natural expansion of friendly affection and I wanted to feel on my body the sensation of his, that he did not possess me but somehow completed me.
I still had the strength, that time, to stop and to pull myself back; to overcome the difficulty of the moment, I got out of bed with the excuse of drinking a glass of water; and that interruption was indispensable to allow me to reflect for a moment on what I was living: even though we had been dating for years with great intensity, with common interests and objectives to pursue, never had we found ourselves so close to such an important choice.
I knew that Ivana was a strong, dominant character, and that she had also had opportunities to date friends on the basis of a Sapphic love; but I had never put in place a hypothesis of love that went beyond the harmony between friends; instead, as far as I knew, she also dated girls who professionally offered themselves to women for a saucy relationship: She herself had told me several times that on certain evenings she frequented special places to give vent to her desires; I still considered these events in a range of possibilities I was not clear about the contours.
The Carmine's episode had pushed my choice towards a decisive clarification and pregnant with consequences; but doubts, hesitations and atavistic fears still persisted in my unconscious and something pushed me to back out, when the possibility of transforming desire into reality became concrete; hence, my hesitations and, in some way, also the torment for a 'life suspended between two opposing worlds'.
It was Ivana herself who suggested, in order to get the situation clearer, that I should try to frequent men-only environments, to control my reactions in an environment that was as 'normal' as possible, to feel if certain undefined fears that had occurred to me could still block me or if I could instead overcome the episode - Carmine with a different, better, more available person: If I hadn't faced that test, I would never have had the certainty of wanting to choose homosexuality as my way of being; if an encounter and a heterosexual relationship had held and made me more serene, it was possible to overcome the episode of the rape without extreme solutions.
For a few weeks, on Saturday night, all four of us went out and frequented sexting people, groups of cosmopolitan friends of various backgrounds; almost always, Ivana tried to 'bond' with some girl she recognized as available to Sapphic love: for this reason, she had a sort of 'antenna' that allowed her to identify them and to look for the simplest and most prudent ways to involve them without exposing them more.
Lauren also showed a certain tendency to prefer female companionship, almost carefully avoiding contact with men and tying herself very much to Rosy, who seemed more 'yielding' and willing to be dominated or, at least, to get involved in a passion that in many ways she too considered difficult to admit; the only one who really sought contact with boys was me, who needed to verify my willingness to dialogue with the opposite sex; unfortunately, some tests turned out to be unsuccessful because, as my father always reminded me when I was a child, 'boys just want to have fun with girls' and I got very quickly tired of the slimy 'slugs' that were around me, strutting around and showing off the obvious packages.
The inevitable conclusion was that I found myself every time more and more convinced in Ivana's arms, often in her home, in her bed, where I spent the rest of the night on Saturday, after the tour of pubs and discos; for a long time I was able to oppose the desire more and more alive, and this time with precise conscience, to abandon myself to her embrace and especially to the very hot kiss that I expected from her; many times I saw myself projected into a sort of panic love in which the total immersion in the senses had the value of a total and direct participation with the world and with reality; but it was clear, first of all to myself, that the game would not last forever and that, sooner or later, I had to decide which side of the barricade to place myself on.
Ivana broke the delays one evening when we had returned to her house, from the usual round of clubs, particularly drunk and less disposed to self-control; partly because the alcohol had released the inhibitory brakes, but mostly because the desire was now irresistible in both of them, in a moment of maximum effusion, she took the back of my head with a firm hand and squeezed her mouth on mine: I saw the stars in the sky, I felt butterflies flying in my stomach, and from my vulva began to drip a mood of uncontrolled orgasm; I opened myself to her completely, and let the pleasure of feeling her warm and caressing mouth flood me, running through my oral cavity and drawing from my body all the fibrillations that sex offered.
Ivana began to undress me frantically; at that point, I reciprocated with the same enthusiasm and soon I found myself sinking my mouth on her prosperous and virginal breast, with nipples as big as hazelnuts that seemed to invite me to suck them: I did it, first with delicacy and love, then more and more with passion and intensity, until I became almost violent and tried to tear from that chest a lifeblood that would fill me with desire and love.
I obtained even more than I would have wished for: Soon, the desire drove me to seek contact with her on the vulva, I began to rub myself on her so that the pubis was constantly in contact with hers and the clitoris, caught between the opposing pubic bones, got excited until I exploded into an orgasm that I had never experienced before; it was an unreachable moment of great love, in which neither the physical structure nor the sex of each one counted, but only the pleasure reached at the highest level, with the person I felt I loved above all else, in a relationship that was perhaps what I had dreamed of, with sweetness, without violence, without aggression but offering each other with love above all.
Dawn found us languidly lying languidly on the bed, she on her side and I in front of her 'crouching down with her buttocks pushed against her belly and her pubis planted against my coccyx; Ivana woke me up, with a very delicate kiss, and asked me if I regretted what had happened; I reassured her that I was perfectly well and that I felt, somehow, 'found', after I had finally had that hour of love that had always been in my dreams; Ivana, prudently, invited me to reflect even before deciding, because, she suggested, facing a reality like that of homosexuality in public was something quite different than living it with enthusiasm and love in the privacy of an alcove; I shrugged: for me, the important thing was to feel good; I was wonderful with her; the rest didn't matter anymore.
So began my story with Ivana, a story that was neither simple nor linear, but that over time made us more and more united and willing to face the world; we also began to frequent the same clubs as always, but this time with the bravado of those who have a partner at their side that they are proud of; this attitude of ours, almost of challenge, did not fail to raise discontent and harsher and harsher comments, in any case, always understated or manifested in a low voice, especially by some groups of sexting people, whose origin was evident from southern Italy (in short, from the same genius as Carmine), who naturally harshly rehearsed what they considered 'immoral behavior'.
That Saturday evening, Ivana could not stay with me until the end: she had a heavy commitment the following morning and said goodbye to me recommending that I go straight home early and avoid the trouble so likely to be in the district of the clubs, notoriously badly frequented; but the trouble was already present and I did not realize that, as soon as Ivana was out, I had been targeted by a group of youngsters who began to comment in a low voice on my behavior and gradually became full of negative energy: When I came out of the club and walked down the dimly lit street, it took them little time to grab me from behind and immobilize me without even giving me time to mention any reaction.
In the blink of an eye, I found myself terrified, tied up and gagged, transported by force in a car and slammed into the back seat with a mass of excited and angry males beyond words, who filled me with misunderstandings about my immorality, perversion, homosexuality, in short, venting all the repertoire of male frustrations against women, against females and especially against lesbians; crying all the tears I had, I found myself thrown into an old empty warehouse and perhaps abandoned at the mercy of a group of men overexcited, half drunk and sex-crazed.
What I suffered in the hours I spent in that out-of-this-world place is unspeakable; when the police found me and took me to the hospital, my anus was torn to blood and required plastic surgery for reconstruction, my vagina was torn in several places and my jaws were dislocated by the effort of taking two or three members in my mouth at a time and making them enjoy it; from a later reconstruction, I discovered that five of them had sexting me and subjected me to the most perverse forms of sexual torture.
I returned home ashamed of my shadow, under the ferocious gaze of my father, who did not forgive me for having been 'run over' by some imbeciles, and the pitiful gaze of my mother, who shed, if possible, more tears than me, for the pain and the shame, being now clear to everyone that I was a lesbian and that I had been 'punished' for this by Italian boys, defenders of male superiority; when I was finally able to move and get out, I went to Ivana, who didn't reimburse me, as I feared, for having behaved unconsciously, not calling a taxi and going out alone; she told me instead that they had identified the authors of the havoc, who had regularly paid the bill: all five were still in the hospital with possibly irreversible damage.
The news did not make me happy, as she expected: on the contrary, she charged my sense of guilt, because my imbecility had cost me, my friends, my family and even five poor fools unable to understand even the meaning of the word 'love'.
Poke Bella
