Falling in love again
Author's Note: These are the opening Chapters of a longer more complex romantic and sexy Lesbian Love Story.
The following Chapter's, of this Series, and the universe it occurs in overall only exist in the mind and imagination of the author. This will be a slow burn, with details that some may find non-essential, but I feel are necessary for the story to flow. If you seek instant gratification, this may not be your best story. On the other hand, if you like a slow romantic story, involving two or more women, you may want to read it through to its climax. [Pardon the pun]. This Chapter contains elements of family life and warm and gentle people. I ask that you please read no further if you are seeking a rather sexy, wild lesbian romp.
Reader discretion is advised.
Applicable Tags: Older/Younger, Virginal, Romance, Female Sub, non-consensual, BDSM, Interracial, Oral Sex, Novel/Novella length. The story is told in the first person.
________________________________________
© 2023 Arking & RDKing, All Rights Reserved. Duplication of this literary piece without the author's expressed permission for any purpose is prohibited.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
PART 3.
Chapter 1 -- I am Claudette Rodgers,
I was born in a refugee camp in South Sudan. My parents were waiting, seeking asylum in Europe, America, or maybe Australia.
My father was a strong man, both physically and emotionally, he had worked for the government before the conflict began, but now he was in hiding he was just a humble administrator but he knew he had to get his family away. He had to hide during the day with many other men, being caught by the current government would mean certain death, for us all. He came home only in the dead of night. I didn't know any of this of course but the story of our journey to Australia and my beginning helped me stay strong to fight the many adversaries I would face.
My first four years on this earth were to be in this god-forsaken camp. At that time I didn't know any different and the love my mother and father gave me helped to make me the woman I was to become. There were no schools, no medicines, or doctors. The food my parents received came to them from the UNHCR, meagre rations, but we survived.
I was just 5 years old when my father came for my mother and me and we collected all of our belongings and we fled the camp with many others, we were taken in a large truck through the countryside, the rough, noisy, dusty countryside. Suddenly we were on a plane, not a passenger jet, but a big black one, it was cold and bumpy and everything was done in a rush. My father carried me as he ran, holding onto my mother's hand. Then pushing her up a ramp, laughing, crying all at once.
The plane was full of people like us, children crying, mothers wailing, people praying and YES there were some others preying on the more vulnerable. I clung to my father and then my mother out of fear. I fell asleep as I clung to my mother for dear life. She kept me warm, the noise of the plane, and the smell of the people, were terrifying for anyone let alone a mere child.
I'm not certain if it is a memory or if I just recall a story told to me by my parents over and over again. How lucky we were to get out. Be thankful for the Australians they always told me, but never told me why or what they did. When I became of an age to ask why, my Poppa just put a finger to his lips and said ssshhhhh, "Just be thankful Sanjana,"
My earliest recollection of being here in Australia was the peace and quiet, the smiles on people's faces. For the first time in my life, I didn't feel scared. I had never seen so many white people, I just stared at them, pointing at them. My Momma just smiled and said, "Yes, a lot of white people, don't point Sanjana,"
One strong memory I held onto, even until this day. I remember my Momma going to buy some food, she found it difficult as English wasn't her native tongue. I remember the tears she shed trying to buy me some milk. How the white people were so sympathetic towards her and how patient they were, how they helped her, taught her slowly. I heard my Momma talking to Poppa and telling him how lucky they were.
Chapter 2 -- The School Years.
I went to a kindergarten and started to learn English. Momma and Poppa only spoke Swahili at home, even though my Poppa could speak many other languages, and is a very smart man. When I was a child he helped Momma and me to speak English. Soon, as I was exposed to it daily, it became my native tongue, and Swahili was spoken less and less by me. By the time I went to school, I could speak it as well as any other at school, I soon lost my accent, and I went with my Momma everywhere to help her. I was the family's official interpreter by the time I reached high school. My childhood was full of fun, and adventures, it seemed my skin colour didn't appear threatening to any of the other school children. I loved those times apart from the early years.
My Momma started taking me to dance classes when I was seven, it was the freestyle movement I adored mainly, moving like a tree in a storm or those big bulbous cumulus clouds moving in the sky. My arms waved about my head, my body moved this way, then that. I felt free.
I played sports at primary school, cricket, and soccer, I tried Australian Football but didn't like it. Tennis I was good at, and basketball. So many sports, so many choices I tried them all. When I started high school I got interested in athletics, with my long legs, did I mention I had grown tall and slender? Yes, the boys all found me 'interesting'. I was asked out on weekends by several different boys. All were nice and learning about one's self simply by talking about who I was and how I came to be in Australia, helped me as much as it cured their curiosity. My Momma had talked to me about boys, and she knew that boys would be boys, no matter what skin colour they had. She taught me to respect myself and my own body. None of the boys even tried to 'check me out', much to my dismay.
It wasn't that I didn't have any serious boyfriends, I was very popular, but I was the only African in my class, but not in the school. I always wondered why they were so interested in me, but not. Despite what people may think, we coloured girls didn't all hang out together and think the same way as each other. Our skin colour didn't define us, or most likely, I refused to allow it to define me. I mixed in with everyone. I felt no bigotry towards me at all and I certainly didn't feel that way towards anybody else.
I was jealous of all of my classmates, they all had big chests, and the boys loved them. While I had little pimples on my chest. When I spoke to my Momma about it, she told me they would grow, when they were ready. Momma wasn't overly blessed, and she told me my Poppa never complained.
In my final years at high school, I was dating a fantastic boy, Illario Petucci, we were semi-serious and our petting led us both to explore each other's bodies. His hand finally found their way into my panties. I had to wait for ages for him to get up the courage to do it and in return, I did the same for him. Barely did I have his hard cock in my hand when he came, two of three brief strokes was all it took. We didn't get to the stage where he needed a condom, and I was less than impressed by sex at the tender age of 16.
I was talking to the girl crew, those who hung out together, and found that most were already 'doing it' with someone or another. A couple of the girls had several different boyfriends in their final year.
I was less flamboyant than the other girls except Sarah Evansworth. She told everyone she was going to wait for the right guy, for her wedding night. I was surprised by everyone making fun of her. She just dismissed them and called them jealous. She laughed along with them.
One day after the sports session, I was last in the changing room, I was still rather bashful and showered in my panties then changed out of them when no one was around. I was sitting drying myself when I heard quiet giggling in one of the shower stalls. I couldn't make out what was being said or who they were. I moved away and started to dress where I could watch who was in there. My first thought was they were having a cigarette, I got it all wrong. I dressed and waited, I soon heard one of them moaning, and then being told to ssshhh. Soon the moaning began to increase as if whoever it was might be in pain. I was tempted to go and see if they were all right. I poked my head around the corner still not seeing anyone when I heard someone saying, "Yes, Yes, I'm cumming,"
I am not a completely innocent teenager, I knew what 'THAT' meant, I mean many a night I had to deal with my feelings down there. Now I was totally intrigued, who was this girl and how did she sneak a guy into the girl's showers?
More laughter, and some very loud kissing. And a lot of 'Oh My God's' coming from that stall. That boy sure knew how to ensure his girlfriend had a good time. My first thought was, I should get him to teach Illario a few things. I was getting annoyed with him cumming in 4 strokes and me going home to do it by myself.
I didn't have to wait long for the big reveal. I held my hand over my mouth trying not to giggle or laugh. I looked around the corner once again. First I saw the door open and of all people Sarah Evansworth put her head out, I pulled my head back just in the nic of time. I was almost bursting with laughter and was doing my best to hold it in.
I heard their voices in hushed tones. It didn't sound like a boy speaking and it certainly wasn't Sarah. Sarah had this high-pitched nasally voice, just like a cartoon character. I waited until I thought they were gone. I took a sneak peek around the corner and was totally shocked.
