The Dark Side of Red Lights Part 1

The dark side of red lights.

Zerounoundici Edizioni.

Cover: Image of Claudio Felici.

Chapter 1.

Continuous so, from the. suck well it for!

Be a true sow you, eh?! You give that you like to die to suck the bird.

Oddio, is about to come! Open wide that cazzo of mouth that you want there sborrare inside!

This way, good, hold her/it open that now I drown you!

Oooh! Here it is! I am about to come sow! Sborrooo!

You excuse the dictionary some complexion.

The problem is that when you are good as me and you make yourself take too much from the part, draughts out everything the worse that there is you. Years of preparation, study and praticantato that a.s.semble him in those little and essential sentences that do of you the number one of your field.

Is Qual my field?

Be', of certain not the lawyer, will have understood him/it, even if in reality I would be been able to be him/it wanting.

I have a doctorate in jurisprudence, I know to the perfection three languages and I have always achieved good votes both to the high school and to the university.

Truth is that for me those were all puttanates.

An enormous waste of time, energies and money that perhaps one day, toward the trentacinques years, you/they would have brought me to have a stable job and esteemed by everybody and the uncertainty of a pension toward the sessantacinques, for power then finally to pa.s.s a serene old age and to get away all of my sfizis.

No, do I say, and would I have had to work hard the whole life and to wait only for the old age to be able to make then some small trip with the group of the center elderly town or to find again me one day to sweep minor to Bangkok?

Don't speak really!

My life I would otherwise have managed her, fanculo the culture, the studies, the languages. What needed me had already been given me by the nature, everything that of which I had need it was in my head and among my legs.

By the way I have not presented yet. My name is Mike Mitch.e.l.l, or at least it is that with which you/they know me all, my stage name.

Michael Moccia in fact it didn't play very well, this is better decidedly.

And respect to the discourse of before, if the sentences with which you have started to know can be defined then me a discourse, be', those belong to my job; I am an actor of p.o.r.no film.

To say the truth this qualification for me is some too much generic and riduttiva. Of p.o.r.no actors it is full I wedge the world, hundreds of boys that makes him/it as work, others to round off and to bring at the end of the month some penny in more to house without owing him to break per diem the back eight hours, other anchor they do him/it please.

There is who ago this trecentosessantacinque days the year and that he/she would not succeed in doing other, who only does instead a films amatoriale with the girl and it puts him/it on internet to also have him his/her five minutes of celebrity, who thinks about being him/it, who dreams to become him/it.

They exist really as of it, her almost totality of which he/she remains and he/she will remain always in the anonymity.

I am the King!

I am the p.o.r.nodivo, the essence of the hardcore cinema, doesn't is not talk there on the p.o.r.no in this whole fottuto world that doesn't contain to the inside my name.

I am the greatest actor hard of the history, and I don't tell him/it me, all the articles tell him/it that are gone out on me, the talks shows tell him/it, the annoyed housewives tell him/it, the newscasts tell even it.

I live in a religious country, that goes fierce some moral spirit of his/her own people, yet I am more known than the greatest stars in Hollywood.

Could become a great lawyer, have a career of success, a good reputation, and instead have become a G.o.d!

I have had everything: money, fame, women; cabbage, was coming a hour ago only in front of one of the most beautiful girls whom this planet has ever seen.

I should literally be to the seventh sky, but reality is not really that that he/she sees the people. Under to this facade that all envy me there is a world that n.o.body is almost imagined, a history done of anger and pain, that make you go down from that seventh sky and they make you climb to the seventh floor of a building, standing on a moulding to stare at all those people that now, from there under, they don't even notice me.

I know what all you will be thinking: now it arrives to us the history strappalacrime, the boy with some problems, so many good person feelings, the fall toward the obscurity, and at the end even a beautiful love story that wins on everything and it will make me go down from this d.a.m.ned moulding.

You know, it would be nice. It almost seems the plot of a beautiful novel.

Sinned that this is not a novel, it is my life. I have decided whether to conduct her/it, I decide elegant porle: I Jump!

Seven floors.

How long will he/she want us to fall down from seven floors?

Three seconds? Four?

You know, I wanted to throw down myself naked. I was afraid that even, with the suits I wear, people would have found it hard to recognize me.

Then my pea has come to mind.

Thing enters it my pea with all this, you will ask you.

Be', the greatest p.o.r.nodivo has not become et cetera et cetera at all!

Twenty-four centimeters of pure pa.s.sion. An evening in a disco I convinced a just known girl to do me a pumps out of the place.

When we found us in the parking lot and it threw him/it to me out of the underpantses he/she remained to look him/it spellbound for some second, then it lifted the eyes and it said: G.o.d, is so beautiful that to suck I have him/it to you fear that ruins him!

I was proud of my pea, I would never have allowed anybody to hurt him, for this I have decided to throw dresses me. Even from naked, in the impact with the ground, you/he/she would be smashed, destroyed, defaced.

Could not allow him/it!

And then, gives his/her importance, even would have touched earth a fraction of second before the rest of the body and would have been able to make evil!

Jokes apart, at least in the death I wanted my dignity. That day, on that sidewalk, a man would be dead not a naked man.

I have not thought about anything and I/you/they are jumped.

So much won't last more than three or four seconds, I am me said. Sinned not to have kept in mind of the fact that when you are about to die, you/he/she can happen at times to see his/her own life as in a film again, and if for one to which you/they shoot a pellet in head the film it lasts no more than an episode of a Spanish telenovela, in three or four seconds to relive your life seems whether to look at the end of the gentleman of the rings: endless, you would like to lift you and to go, but you cannot do to less less than look at him/it.

It seems a stronzata, instead one of the so many urban legends are around for a long time true, and this that I am about to see again is the history of my life.

Chapter 2.

Perhaps I/you/they have never been a child as the others.

When he is small, up to a certain age, female s.e.x is only seen as the opposite one some masculine s.e.x, and for" opposite" I intend really that the female should be him of it from everything other part in comparison to the male.

You/he/she has always been so, his/her children played with their children, the children with the children.

They rarely made him games together or other interactions were had.

The females were disgusting! This was the witticism of the little boys of my school. I didn't agree.

Since then I tried already a strange attraction in their comparisons.

I was a small pervert, I touched the culo of the children, I lifted them the skirts, I wanted to see her naked.

And everything without even not knowing why.

My parents were, or I are better - they are not dead, at least I believe, I don't have them news from centuries but it doesn't care - I said that they are two people of church, religious, you/they have always inculcated me in the head stupid moralisms, ideas of purity, disgust toward what was obscene for them, and believe me, for them it was obscene almost all.

They selected the programs that I had to see, they held me away from sinful places - also a simple cafe could be him/it - they on purpose avoided to pa.s.s for one determined road if they knew that some advertising placard had been posted you where even the naked breast of a woman or its open b.u.t.tocks it appeared. Theirs to want to protect at times my purity expired in the pure folly.

You/he/she will have been for my difficult character, you/he/she will have been because of the prohibitionism in which you/they wanted to make to live me, that every time that the occasion happened me tried to escape from the bell of gla.s.s in which you/they wanted to confine me, and I went to seek what they wanted to hide me and also more.

To eleven I was become an a.s.siduous frequenter of the newspaper kiosk of the city.

I went for seeing all those covers of the newspapers scandalistici there where the actress of turn appeared pecked at by the paparazzos with the b.r.e.a.s.t.s to the wind or some photos" artistic" of beautiful provocative girls.

I day-dreamed seeing those photos, it came me hard, and I liked the feeling.

To school they were given the first speeches on the naked women, of that publicity rather than of that films given in tv the evening before. Me unfortunately all those things I didn't know her why I could not follow the programs as I would have liked, I owed therefore to doc.u.ment alone me not to be less than the other little boys, or to know even more than them, and however because I liked.

The true turn in my life of little boy was when in my district they opened a new newspaper kiosk, the greatest of the zone, a beautiful gigantic kiosk that seemed a real solitary shop.

I entered in hunting of the usual b.r.e.a.s.t.s to the wind there, of some culos provocative, when my attention was totally captured by a section of magazines mails in low to the right in the kiosk, among the specialistic magazines of automobiles and those of fashion.

My first meeting with the world of the p.o.r.no.

The section hard of the newspaper kiosk. In that angle the edicolante held all the erotic and p.o.r.nographic magazines, not thinking, or even caring really, to the fact that the place where you/he/she had put her it was easily accessible to people of any ages.

I almost all went there the days, I also stayed at times in front of the newspaper kiosk for mezz'ora, attending the correct moment, that in which at least two or three people all entered together to be able to hide this way me in the middle of them.

I entered, and while the edicolante was busy to serve its clients or to talk to old friends and annoyed housewives, I gave a beautiful peered at to what I called my angle of heaven an angle populated by angels without veils and so many starlets that covered their intimate parts leaving quite a lot s.p.a.ce to the imagination.

There was of everything, from playboy's number to the magazine" All a.n.a.l", it was everything there prepared on that shelf, a small section for adults quietly mail among magazines of auto, fashion and show.

And it was also that my fortune.

If everybody that part of the newspaper kiosk had probably been devoted to the p.o.r.no someone you/he/she would have been able to notice more easily me and to make to get further me, instead thanks to the setup of the magazines I could always invent the excuse that I was an impa.s.sioned of run auto, and that they were those the magazines that attracted so much my attention.

I didn't stay anymore of so much, five, ten minutes at the most.

All those covers accattivanti, all those scenes arrapanti.

Every time that I entered in that newspaper kiosk, I went out out from there with an obelisk of granite among the legs.

I was not you/he/she stick ever m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.ed. Not that I/you had never tried there, so many times when my imagination went over and my pea didn't want to know of it of ammosciarsi, I started to touch me, to rub me above anything, closing the eyes and thinking that they were two beautiful swollen and firm b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

I never reached the end however. All of a sudden I stayed me, some because I was afraid a light to arrive until after all, some because it came me the stimulus as to go to the bath to urinate, and some because so many times I suffered strange fits of dizziness that you/they forced me to lay down me on the bed and to stop playing with my object.

The day that I could not do came however without it.

I was hardly gone out of school, the last time was of physical education. Us boys, are known, up to a certain age it is not that we pay the maximum attention to our personal hygiene. This way, to end lesson, at the most someone the sweaty shirt changed him with a dry, but of shower or things of the kind he/she didn't even speak, some for the arcane fear that has the most greater part of the boys to undress himself/herself/themselves of forehead to other people, some because so much was the last time of lesson, therefore we could quietly return home and to think later of us.

Instead The girls were best of us. They were not even taken the shower them because the time to disposition was few, but without a beautiful rinsed and a complete change of suits they didn't go.

So we crowded there all there, in line in the corridor of the gym that brings from the locker rooms to the exit, to take us to fists while we were waiting that the girls completed their preparations.

That day I realized me to have forgotten the towel in the room, so I left my companions and I went to pick him/it up.

It was particularly warm that day. You/he/she must have been for what some girl left the door of the locker room slightly left half open for making to enter a spins of air in more.

I hastened of it, I drew near furtively me to the door and I started to peer at.

You/they were almost all dressed, but a pair they were still in panties and they wandered for the locker room, frantic not to make delay. They were alone of the ragazzines in t-shirt and panties, but I excited me as a crazy person to that vision.

One of theirs realized that was someone behind the door and it came before vexed for closing her/it. I escaped away.

We went out of school. By now in the head I had only that image. I was excited. To return home decided to lengthen some the run and to pa.s.s from my newspaper kiosk.

Fortunately in that schedule, besides the students, also so many adults detach from the job, for the break lunch as it regards the full-time or entirely for the one whom he/she works part-time, therefore in the newspaper kiosk there was a beautiful po' of people that entered and it went out.

I entered inside, me fiondai toward my preferred section, looked at all those provocative covers and to lines I thought about my companies in panties.

I put a hand in the pocket of the overall not to get noticed too much and I started to touch me. I tightened him/it to me, I caressed the point, I rubbed there above, it became more and more beautiful. I wanted to stop, but to every according to whether it pa.s.sed I told me ok, only another pochino and then enough, but I didn't succeed in stopping me.