Being brought up by females —my parents separated when I was a child, so I grew up beside my mother and my older sister—, I was always attracted by strong women, better if feminist.
When I met Her, in summer of 1995, I was twenty five, while She was twenty four. Since I hadn’t yet have a girlfriend and I was been only a few times with women, I knew almost nothing about love. I was attracted by Her green, deep eyes, Her frown, Her maternal shapes, and —why not?—, Her black clothes.
“Are you either a dark lady, a vampire, or a witch?”, I asked Her. “I’m a Black-Shirt”, was Her answer. Now, you have to know that, in Italian, Camicia Nera (= “black shirt”) means a Fascist. In fact, She was an Italian extreme-right militant, and of course I agreed with no one of Her political ideas: She was racist, xenophobe, and classist. While I was for peace and love, She, as Athena, was for wars and violence (Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite, 10-11):
but she delights in wars and in the works of Ares,in strifes and battles and in preparing famous crafts.
(transl. by H.G. Evelyn-White)
But, the only important for me, She was a feminist. And what a feminist! She did not teach me only the Gifts of Aphrodite, but also the importance of the Divine Female Power that lies in each woman. I was Her pupil, thirsty to learn more and more about it. As a Goddess, She used Her Power to protect and reassure me, but requiring in return absolute faith and obedience. Otherwise, Her anger was frightening.
I learnt that a man needs a woman to be all day long beside him, because he lacks the Divine Power, while women need men only for a while, to have a bit of fun. Aware of it, I understood that the only way to keep Her beside me was to put Her pleasure always before mine. We mated whenever She wanted, in the hours She wanted, in the days She wanted. She explained me that, while men reach their pleasure quickly, women need much more time: hence, if my body wasn’t able to assure Her a full pleasure for a couple of hours, I should need to finish the job with my tongue. Furthermore, if my body was too tired for mating, I should use the tongue from the beginning. She taught me that loving a woman with the tongue was the greatest way to receive a bit of her Divine Energy: such energy, that dwelt in the womb, could be shared even by men —but in a quite little share—, in the shape of the female fluid.
Proud of Her body and of Her womanhood, She taught me to love Her womb and Her monthly flow: that flow is the backbone of the Divine Female Power, being regulated by the phases of the Moon, i.e. the Goddess Herself. Many times I tasted the female fluid mixed with a bit of Holy Blood —don’t blame me if I do not know whether the days were waxing, full, or waning—. I did never reveal it to my friends, sure that they would perceive it only as a sort of masochistic submission, misunderstanding its holiness.
When She left me, at the beinning of 1999, I spent whole months crying. However, I am always grateful to Her for all those teachings: thanks to Her, I’m totally conscious of the divine nature of women.
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