Linda

[kikdirty]

If I had to try to define myself with one expression, I would say that Linda doesn't have many problems, she is a whole mass of problems walking on two legs: beautiful, fortunately, elegant, thin and nervous, full as they should be and that let a bit of light pass when I approach the knees, as it is said in all the treatises on feminine beauty; and they support harmonious, rich, round hips to think of a compass that has drawn them, with full buttocks and slightly pushed upwards, in 'Brazilian' style, I would say, with buttocks that invite to caress; the breasts are abundant, maybe very abundant (but nobody ever said it was too much) with full, fleshy breasts, emerging haloes of a bright brown colour and two nipples that look like baby pacifiers: many have attached themselves to them to suck love instead of milk to feed themselves.
My face is that of a Renaissance dame like the ones you see in famous paintings; the sensation is also favoured by the thick, free and moved hair, of a red colour, which I often like to wear free to move like a cloud in the wind and which, when I make love, becomes an irresistible instrument of lust and enjoyment, when I gently pass it over the body of the person I am loving or with whom I am just copulating.
The problems ... I was saying; those are almost inherent to me; the most concrete, perhaps the most serious ones, began at the dawn of my life, when as a sexting girl I started attending school, with enormous reluctance, and the gymnasium where I behaved like a tomboy, perhaps because my parents expected a boy to be born and instead found themselves faced with a 'carrot hair' that went beyond their every desire: to see me train in wrestling and 'run over' boys even older than me was a source of pride for my father.
For me it was the root of the pain: all my schoolmates, even those younger than me, had already had their first experiences with boys and talked about them in secret in the toilets; I couldn't even imagine the dick of a boy manipulated by me to get him excited as it resulted from the stories of the others, because none of the boys was willing to get involved with one who 'menava' and escaped me like the plague.
I filled the gap very quickly, being 'weaned' by the youngest of the janitors, who took very little time to get a hold of me and willingly accepted to open the flap; to pull out a remarkable foul, at least for me and my inexperience; to lean my hand on it and guide me in the first moves of masturbation; when word spread that I was 'truly divine' to masturbate, I became the most sought-after in school and I think I had passed all the boys who attended it.
Things weren't going well in class and I had to do somersaults to keep up with the others; Instead of applying myself to what the teachers were saying, I was more willing to spend many hours at the last white, holding the boys' birds in my hand, which alternated in my desk and allowed me to put my hand in a pocket which, appropriately cut inside, allowed access to the phallus and a masturbation often very long and lustful, at the end of which, those who already succeeded, ejaculated in my hand and pants.
Things got worse just before I went to high school, after having passed middle school with enormous difficulty; out of the blue, my father decided that we had to emigrate to another country, Germany, and that there we would start a new business, an Italian restaurant for which I could not understand where he got the capital to start it; but his stern gaze and my mother's supine acceptance blocked all my applications.
Thus began the second phase of my education, scholastic but also and above all sexual: In the field of didactics, I had to start from scratch because the language did not 'enter' me and prevented me from proceeding; I suffered hell, under the threat of being cut off from any school course and reduced to the most brutal illiteracy; but somehow I made up for it with great tenacity and commitment to reading on my own behalf, so I was also able to read and speak German fluently; for writing, the difficulties lasted longer.
But it was in the field of sex education that I found myself having to make a chase with a handicap: the German girls were much more evolved and crafty than the Calabrian ones (moreover, in a backward province like Silano) bound to an archaic condition of the woman in society and bound by religious norms, atavistic customs and grandmother's teachings; Among the German peers, I found those who even took the boy home and cheerfully copulated in their bedroom with the blessing of their father and mother, without considering the perversions of which I had news in the 'consultations' that almost every day took place in the bathrooms.
I found, however, the usual sexting janitor who did not disdain, first, to be masturbated and discover that I had a natural talent for the manipulation of the phallus; and, then, he set me on to fellatio with all the calm and sensitivity of which he was capable, inviting me gently to place my lips first, then my tongue, on his upright member like an obelisk; As soon as I was accustomed to it, he persuaded me to take it in my mouth and suck it with delicacies, as if it were a savoury sweet; within two weeks, I sucked, licked, swallowed, and drove his rod mad, his testicles swollen with semen, and his belly all over, causing it to explode into orgasms which upset him.
Even needless to say that in a very short time the word spread that I was an exceptional and naturally gifted felon; all the boys in high school, from the youngest to the ultra-skilled, wanted to enjoy the joys of my love lips; one of the elders of the school (one who had repeated almost methodically all the classes of the course) asked me if I was a vulva virgin and to sit; I told him with extreme naturalness that nobody had tried; I was only sixteen years old and not even he felt like risking an accusation of paedophilia, if he had violated my hymen: So he asked me if I was willing to get my ass kicked with his phallus: with the utmost recklessness, thinking of a further challenge that no one had ever told me about, I told him yes.
That same afternoon, during a recovery shift, we disappeared into the toilets; he had prepared himself with a lubricating gel with which he anointed my perineum and anus, penetrating for a few centimeters into the rectal canal; then he progressively inserted one to three fingers into the rectum and stretched the folds of the anus verifying the penetrability; When he saw that I was available, with some warnings and recommendations, he put the club into my rectum, and closed my mouth so that my screams would not arouse the janitors' suspicion; when I was accustomed, I moved my hand and invited him to mount me; the movement in my rectum sent me to the stars: In the midst of a libido never felt before, I felt sex stimulate my rectum and explode in a thousand colours of rainbow; I was almost happy.
From that moment on, my backside became the marvelous place where all the boys of the High School came to seek Allah's Paradise, unloading the violence of their hormonal storms into my gut; and I felt almost complete as a woman, even if a minimum of remorse was still born from the part of me that had remained sedimented in me of the education received in childhood and from the family situation that still saw my father ruling over us and prone in front of someone in Calabria, my mother ready to make herself a mat to his desires and my brother, with all the staff of the restaurant, obeying more to an almost military leader than to a master or, even more, to a father; I could not do it at all and the fights were daily, almost.
When I quit school and agreed to work with my parents in their place, I had first to bow to the dictats of my father, who continued to be a Calabrian in a land where certain costumes were at least impossible; I changed my friendships and acquaintances, losing sight of my personal sex bandages in the school, in the bathrooms, in empty classrooms, in laboratories or in the janitors' cage; For a period which for me was of eternal, useless suffering, I had to 'stay dry', limiting myself to long, exasperating masturbations which never made me reach the desired orgasm, the one which could only procure me a bat of flesh planted in the rectum, which would solicit for a few minutes the internal walls and my sexual sensibility and then explode in a rainbow of pleasure from the anus, from the belly, from the heart.
The summer of that year, the nineteenth for me, we decided to spend it in Italy, between the country of origin and the nearby seaside resort; the occasion was worth to my father to meet people, characters and personalities of his environment and his work: I also believed that he had met the heads of the structure on which his restaurant depended; but they were only my thoughts and I chased them away as harassing thoughts.
I instead tried to take advantage to regenerate myself a little, after the cold of the north, in the sun of Calabria; almost by bad luck, however, I found myself in close contact with some sexting people who had emigrated, mostly to Switzerland, and who like us had come to regain contact with the reality of origin, almost a sort of 'lay pilgrimage on the vestiges of the fathers'; for them too, I strongly suspected that the trip was a sort of homage to a 'godfather' or someone's 'call to order'; in this case too, I buried the suspects under a carpet of disinterest and left them alone.
On the other hand, I had neither the strength nor the will to refuse when a boy in the group invited me to take a walk in the pinewood that bordered the beach, accompanying it for a short distance: Although relatively few years have passed, I don't even remember the name of the guy who disappeared into the fog of memories to be erased immediately after the event; yet it was the guy I kissed for the first time with a different intensity, not with the desire for sex with which I had done it before, nor with the intention of bursting his penis in his pants, for the lust, as I often did when I was with someone I liked; this time the feeling was that it would be different with him: without knowing it, I was going from passion to love; and it didn't bother me, but it excited me in a different and deeper way, in the head, in the heart, before the vagina.
When we were behind a pine tree bigger than the others, I could hardly imagine what to expect; I did not think of it while I kissed him with immense transport, taking possession of his tongue, and using it as a small penis to suck him until he had an abnormal fellatio; nor while I felt his hands clawing my buttocks and pushing my pubis on mine to rub them until I felt wet, and he felt his rod swell until it burst against my mount of venus.
I don't know and I don't want to remember how he laid a large beach towel on the pine needle floor: I found myself lying there completely relaxed, incapable of initiative, open and at his disposal: the only thing that made me feel alive were the palpitations of my vulva that seemed anxious to take inside the stick of flesh that beat against and stimulated pleasures still unknown; I barely realized that she was pulling off my bikini, first the bra then the bottom, and that I was completely naked in her arms: maybe that was what I had wanted since the moment I met him; I felt with deep participation that he was kissing me passionately, touching my tits, putting a hand between us to titillate my vulva: it wasn't a masturbation neither precise nor technical but it exalted me to the limits of happiness and brought me to orgasm.
Then I felt that he relaxed a little, that he started to caress me all over my body with less agitation, continuing without stopping to kiss me and to suck my tongue in his mouth, almost as if he were eating my clitoris; then his hand passed from my vulva to his phallus and moved it gently to rest the chapel against the entrance to the vagina; a sharp, almost violent blow, a twinge of pain, a little burning, and I didn't even realize that he had deflowered me; I noticed it later, when he broke away from me after ejaculating, only now reproaching himself for not having used a condom; the traces of blood on mine and his belly gave me additional pleasure, the idea that I was really a woman; he became frightened, only then realizing that he had violated a virgin.
I do not know whether he was overwhelmed by what he considered an enormity, whether he was afraid of the possible consequences, or whether he was simply reminded of his obligations: the fact is, he disappeared completely from my horizon and I never had the chance to see him again: I had no regrets; on the other hand, on the one hand, I felt free now to copulate even in the vagina, since the hymen had been eliminated; and, on the other hand, I felt a sense of distrust and contempt for all men: Up to that moment I had been hostile because I had 'read' in their behaviour a great dose of obtuse and stupid bestiality, because they took advantage of my supposed weakness to possess me everywhere: the more I found them beasts, the more I enjoyed consuming their ferocity; now I could add cowardice in the face of something they had done and for which they left the responsibility only to me; the male was beginning to become, for me, even a useless tinsel.
I realized this with greater conscience when, on my way home, in Germany, I looked around me and didn't see a flash of light shining between the sexting people who frequented the restaurant and those I met in the 'gypsies' that we organized among faithful friends and neighbors, those to whom we confessed everything, even the unspeakable to ourselves, without fear of being judged or seen with suspicion: this very detail led me to look at them as the only possible reference.
A couple of times I had let myself go to the restaurant, and took myself to the toilets of the handsome boys, to whom I had given a quick copulation, standing up, from behind, forcing them to use condoms to avoid dangers of any kind; once, in particular, I had noticed that my father, coming out of the men's room, had seen me and an adventurer come out of the women's room by chance: the face he made was all a program of threats and punishments, but I sustained his gaze and pulled away; shortly afterwards, I saw that my mother was talking to him animatedly and I realized that perhaps she had managed to appease his anger; she said nothing to me and, afterwards, made no mention of the episode, a sign that she had digested the novelty that 'his daughter copulated' and no longer had any problems about how I spent the evenings and nights: I was now of age and she knew very well that she could not interfere with my private life.
Instead, during the infamous 'gypsies', one evening we had stayed for a drink with more passion than usual, Joan, one of the friends of the group, a beautiful blonde very well structured, muscular but also beautiful and feminine in the right places, took me jokingly in her arms and lifted me up like a twig: I was not impressed by the great strength shown (I'm not a twig) but rather by the sense of warmth that I had felt coming from her body, until it flooded mine and caused me very sweet feelings and emotions: for a moment I felt languid, I abandoned myself to her and I felt something that I had felt only in the pine forest, in Calabria, when I let the imbecile deflower me: I don't know if in both cases it was love, but it certainly came very close.
As she carried me down, Joan rubbed my back, starting with my buttocks, and made her tits caress my whole body, from bottom to top; when my face was at hers, I could hardly stop myself from kissing her as if I had been struck by lightning.
"How sweet you are!"
Joan whispered to me.
"But you haven't tasted anything!"
I answered, I don't know why provocative.
"Be careful Joan doesn't joke about such things."
A mutual friend warned me.
"Why, you think I'm kidding?"
"Watch out, baby, I really like you and I'll take what I like!"
"Joan, why do you keep talking like we're on two wavelengths?"
"Have you made love to a woman before?"
"No; but I wouldn't mind trying it out; and if it were with you, I'm sure I'd like it."
"Can you stay over at my place tonight?"
"No problem; just phone home and let me know."
"Call, then; stay with me tonight; if you hold on, we're together; if you can't, nothing happens tonight and you go back to your place in the morning."
Joan was a few years older than us, but for some time she had made her homosexual choice and had communicated it to everyone; so I knew perfectly well what had happened and what was waiting for me; but the hatred against the male, the distrust in the family, my need to find an affection to which to bind myself, all led me inexorably to evaluate with extreme interest the hypothesis of finding in Joan that reference I needed so much; I phoned home and warned my mother that I was sleeping over at a friend's; then I took Joan for life and turned her over to me; she stopped me, perhaps to avoid public scandal, and guided me to the ladies' room,
"Do you really feel like being my girlfriend?"
"Will you let me give it a try, please, before you decide?"
"But that's exactly what I'm asking you. Do you feel like giving it a try?"
I pushed her in almost forcefully, closed the door behind us and found myself clinging to her who had embraced me with strength: her lips tasted like fresh strawberries, hidden under the aroma of smoked tobacco, together with a vague hint of field, a craving for sex and memory of orgasms received in the mouth: or so it seemed to me that I could grasp from that extraordinary contact, for me at least; her belly waving on mine caused me unheard of libidinal shocks; a hand had slipped under the edge of the miniskirt and now went up to the groin, grabbed the vulva from the mount of Venus to the anus, and began to friction me with the effect of enormous shivers as from electric shocks, which shook my belly for a few seconds and made me explode in an orgasm never felt before.
"Meanwhile, you're making me enjoy it like I've never had before; I feel like the right chemistry could be there."
"Girl, don't joke; love is a very serious thing; if I fall in love with you, I can make your life difficult, because I decide you belong to me and you can no longer escape my love."
"Joan, listen to me; I have never loved in my life; if I fall in love with you it will be the first and only time, it will be forever; now, don't talk anymore; love me and let me feel what true love is!"
"Not here, please, not in this squalid, temporary situation. Let's go home, let me love you as it should be, in the house that, if you want, will be yours too. Come away with me."
We said goodbye to her friends and went to her house: Joan had been living alone for years in the old, rather infamous neighbourhood, in a room made out of an old warehouse, a single room, lofty on one side to create the sleeping area; the light was provided by large windows on a short side facing the street; to protect her, there were very thick curtains that guaranteed a certain amount of darkness enough to sleep or even to stay awake and look at each other without seeing each other well, especially while making love: I was immediately fascinated by the structure of the house and the taste he had shown in furnishing it with a few things, perhaps recovered.
Joan sat me down at a table, took some beers from the fridge and we toasted 'to our love' as she said emphatically; I stood up and took her in my arms; she put the beer down and captured my mouth in a kiss that seemed endless; for many seconds I felt my tongue captured by her mouth and sucked as if it were the clitoris: the orgasms, if they were not the same, were certainly intense and numerous; at the same time, her hands were running all over my body, and my dress was hand open and put down, on the chair; in short, I was practically naked, on the bed with her.
In a delightful crescendo of sensations and perceptions, she made me discover all the ways in which, by rubbing the skin on my body, skillfully manipulating all the erogenous zones, she managed to make me touch the heights of the most intense pleasure; when her muscular thigh pressed against my vulva, capturing the clitoris in the middle, I reached orgasm even before she began to suck my swollen nipples with desire; when she devoted herself with almost meticulous care to manipulate my vulva in search of erogenous points, even the most hidden and of which I had never had any inkling, I tried in vain to take her sex in my hands, hoping to reciprocate a grip, a caress, a titillation: Most of the time, she was quicker to give me a new orgasm that got me high.
Less than half an hour after we were lying down, I didn't even know how many times I had reached orgasm; then, when she took from a bedside table beside the bed a black plastic stick, which I had only glimpsed a few times in the hands of I don't know who and for what purpose, I had to make a local mind to realize that it was in the shape of a phallus and that therefore it was a dildo that she was going to use with me; immediately afterwards, I saw that she was sucking it almost as if it were a member, and that she was approaching it to my vulva wide open in front of her and penetrating me calmly and methodically.
Once again she made me enjoy it and spared herself; in a moment of stasis, with the dildo firmly planted in her vagina, I asked her why she would not let me do it to her; she replied that it was not necessary and that, by changing instruments, she could satisfy both of us; in fact, she put the dildo aside and took from the same drawer a panties with a tool similar to the previous one, but stuck in the garment; she put on her panties, being careful to make the base of the artificial phallus, which protruded for many centimeters inwards, coincide with the access to her vagina; when she came upon me, almost like a male, and penetrated me in the position known as 'missionary', I clearly felt the penetration of the phallic prosthesis into my vagina up to the uterus, but I realized that, at the same time, she was being stimulated by the effect of the rubbing against my sex, on the side of the artificial phallus which was in the panties.
Since I didn't have to go home, we spent the night copulating, Joan behaving like a perfect male, almost with the same aggressiveness but without violence, and I behaved like a perfect Calabrian wife, supinely prone to the desires of a horny and aggressive husband: She possessed me in every way, in all the holes and with all the desire of a lustful lover; it was almost dawn when she fell asleep on the bed and fell asleep; I held her, I embraced her and planted the mount of Venus against my sacrum, which I stimulated with contact for a few minutes; then I too fell into a deep sleep.
My story with Joan began that evening and became progressively more demanding: I didn't go to live with her, as she would have wanted me to, so as not to leave my parents' house, which was still the safest refuge; some evenings, more sluggish for work at the restaurant, I would leave the service and run away to Joan's house where I also spent the night; every time, the love sessions were of the highest level with more and more advanced, more and more refined, more and more long practices; my father, after discovering his slutty daughter copulating in the restaurant bathrooms, also had to accept his lesbian daughter who spent many nights a week with the other slut, his mistress, to whom the daughter seemed more attached than her parents; my mother's tenacity and the pressure from above, not to create scandals, made him bear it and shut up.
However, this seemed to be to his advantage when, one day, he received news from Calabria that an important sexting man would arrive, the son of a mammasantissima, to whom it was necessary to ensure the best possible reception: it was not said clearly, but it was read between the lines that, in the wishes of 'who could' was also included a 'sweet company' that cheered up the nights of the boy visiting activities abroad: needless to say that it must have been a very trustworthy girl and unquestionable loyalty to the cause.
My father took the opportunity to bend to himself: since I was acting as a prostitute, at least once I was a libertine to favour his trade: To make his daughter available to the important scion, even his daughter, could mean earning so many points in the esteem of his bosses that he would undoubtedly guarantee their role and power for many years to come; moreover, for me it would certainly not be a problem to copulate with one, rather than with the many I met in the toilets; my mother, who at first felt rebellious against the hypothesis of using her daughter in such a vile negotiation, had to convince herself soon that, not having Maria Goretti as her daughter, her husband's opinion could also be taken into account since, among other things, I continued to live at home and my father also assured me the job to support me.
My recent fall in love, however, put me in front of a big question of conscience: had it been a male, my partner, perhaps it could have been even easier to copulate with a stranger passing through rather than with another; but, in that case, it was a matter of failing a basic principle: I was now on the other barricade and copulating with a male would have meant betraying the very principles of my life.
These were difficult days, during which my father came to dictate an ultimatum several times: If I didn't agree to prostitute myself for the 'family' this would have abandoned me, alone, without a job, with an approximate curriculum with no qualifications or work and I would have really ended up badly; I was trying to resist by making a living on the paternal affection that, in my opinion, could not get to those excesses; but my mother pointed out to me that on other occasions, fathers like mine had already made completely unthinkable and unforeseen choices, creating dangerous precedents of disbanded children, broken families and intestinal feuds protracted over decades.
I talked about it, dutifully in my opinion, even with Joan to ask her advice, and had to agree with my mother that a rope that was too tight could easily break: My father had accepted from me too many bitter and indigestible morsels that he had barely managed to swallow; this time, as it was now clear, he had to choose between defending a daughter who was anything but 'respectable' and the dictates of absolute power to which he had become subject as soon as he had accepted the restaurant's job; the idea of ruining the work he had done for years to build up his credibility in Calabria before he did in Germany, literally took away his sleep and the tension he was touching with his hands was certainly not good for the business: If I hadn't decided quickly, I risked starting a family war; in those same days, news came from our province of origin of a blood story that had involved a family that was 'unwelcome' to the point that two sexting children had been caught while acting behind their backs and against the 'system' and had been barbarously slaughtered in the square.
My father was literally trembling when we heard the news from the regional news, which we received regularly thanks to powerful antennas installed, I think at a considerable expense; he immediately got on the phone and called all the countrymen in the area informing himself about daughters, grandchildren and various relatives to intercept the one useful to provide the 'boss' with what he had requested for his son; meanwhile, in front of his eyes, he looked at me with an air between the fierce and the desperate: I was very ashamed, and ran into the kitchen, found my mother, and spoke to her; I did not wish to get my father and family into trouble at all, and would have agreed to be owned by the unknown Calabrian, whoever he was, even for the duration of his stay; but, soon afterwards, I would have gone away forever, and would not want to know any more about my father, who disposed of me as if I were a kitchen cabinet.
My mother invited me to reflect on this last consideration, because, she told me, he had already sacrificed all his pride to accept my 'drunkenness of freedom', which certainly had nothing logical or rational and perhaps not even correct or human; it was up to me, now, to lower my crest a little and meet one of his needs; moreover, if I had been able to choose the attitude with the sexting guest, nothing prevented me from asking him for a later accommodation that would free me from the economic enslavement to my father.
"If you must prostitute yourself, at least do it intelligently; he is a stupid male; for all I know, he is also a handsome boy: with five days of acquaintance, besides the inevitable copulation, there is time to circulate him, to ensnare him, and to guarantee you a job, even a prestigious one, that will secure your future. You're dealing with a real power, a mafia man, but power; if you know how to manage yourself, maybe you can straighten your life out too".
She was right, my mother; and it didn't take long to realize that she had been very careful: the boy was not the classic Calabrian I expected: a man of great good looks, elegant, courteous, and refined manners, I liked him very much at once, and, thinking about it, perhaps I would have had sex with him even without my father's pressure; I felt like a rotter, but by then everything was flattened; we even managed to make it seem that, by chance, I became his companion and his shadow; he was happy about it, and did not say it out of courtesy: I really felt that he enjoyed keeping me close, touching me even without reason, trying to feel the warmth of my body.
When it came to settling down for the night, for a moment I looked at him almost questioning him.
"Would you like to sleep with me?"
"Are you happy?"
There was no need for anything else; after not even half an hour he was undressing me with a delicacy that I could not remember even and I was doing the same; he caressed me for a long time and licked me all over, before deciding to penetrate me with a big and hard tool; we copulated all night and woke up at dawn with the coffee that my mother brought us, winking at my accomplice: With a large smile I told her that it had gone very well; while we were having breakfast in bed, my occasional lover asked me about my relationship with my father; I told him that I was waiting for any accommodation to make myself independent, but that there were not many prospects; he smiled almost with superiority, picked up the telephone and formed a number; he spoke for a long time, in the strait of Calabria, and in the end merely communicated with me.
"Next week one of our men is transferred to another location for logistical reasons; he is currently the representative of the Alfa Romeo dealership in the city, but he doesn't do anything; he actually coordinates our groups and occasionally organizes operational meetings. If you feel like it, from next week you'll be the manager of the dealership and then you'll answer only to me for what you do or don't do; would you like to be my replacement in the city?
"Are you asking me to join the organization?"
"Why? Are you deluding yourself that you're out of it? When you're born in certain areas you're branded from birth. You think I like what I do? I have to and I've learned to adapt. I'll repeat the question: Do you feel like representing me here in town and being near me every time I come here?"
"To be your mistress in this town is even better for me, but I already have a partner, a woman."
"Beautiful!!!! And... tell me... do you think the three of us could do something? ... To do it with a lesbian would be wonderful!"
"Why do you think I'm a lesbian?"
"Because I've checked you out and you're female cubed, nay, to the nth power, so she must be a lesbian, and if you get me a date for a threesome, I'll make you a golden throne as my queen here."