Sex scandal in L’Aquila: forbidden whispers and hidden truths
Sex scandal in L'Aquila — a phrase that alone makes the school corridors tremble and ignites curious glances. In the Coppito district, where one of the most talked-about vocational schools in the city is located, everything began with a phone call I never expected. I hadn’t heard from my old friend for more than six months. She is not just any woman: she is a long-time colleague, one of those in the city everyone calls a “night professional.” With her I have shared sudden trips, demanding clients, and secrets that are never confessed to anyone.
Our lives run fast: one day in Pescara, the next in Rome, then back again to Abruzzo for a last-minute appointment. Cities, names, and faces blend together, but between us there is always the same complicity. That afternoon the phone vibrated, and her name appeared on the screen. I answered, and her warm, slightly husky voice overwhelmed me.
— “Darling, are you alive?” — we both laughed, exchanging memories and jokes. Then, her tone shifted.
— “Do you know that vocational school in L’Aquila, in the Coppito district?”
I had never been inside, but I knew it was an imposing complex, orderly like a barracks: well-kept avenues, perfect sports fields, strict rules. And above all, teachers in uniform in Coppito — impeccable, authoritarian, always carrying the air of those used to giving orders. A place where, at least in appearance, forbidden whispers at the vocational school in L’Aquila should never find their way in.
The unexpected invitation
“I’ve been there too… but not to study,” she said, laughing. “A private call, cash payment. He had promised me that in his office, at night, we would be safe and undisturbed.”
She met him at the entrance: tall, in uniform, with a direct gaze. He led her into his tidy office, with a polished desk and neatly aligned documents. “For every wrong answer, there will be a punishment,” he told her in a firm voice.
The first punishment was simple: removing her stockings. The second: standing still while he walked around her, studying her like an object freshly acquired. She, experienced in roleplay, played along. She slid off her stockings slowly, keeping her eyes on him. He smiled, confident, in full control.
It was clear this wasn’t his first time in such a situation. That control, that calm… it carried the signature of someone who had already turned his role as one of the teachers in uniform in Coppito into something far more obscure, where forbidden whispers at the vocational school in L’Aquila had already crossed the line into reality.
Voci che corrono
Nel giro di pochi giorni, a Coppito iniziarono i mormorii. Prima nei bar, poi nei negozi, infine persino nei taxi. Frasi spezzate: «…in divisa… punizioni… ufficio…» Il nome di quell’insegnante cominciò a girare, e presto si parlò di altre storie simili.
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The forbidden whispers at the vocational school in L’Aquila spoke of female students who, after classes, stayed behind in the offices of the teachers in uniform in Coppito for “private meetings.” Some laughed it off, others kept silent. Then came the first complaints by students and internal investigations.
The seized chats contained explicit phrases, compromising photos, and comments about who “deserved a punishment.” At that point, it was no longer just gossip: the sex scandal in L’Aquila was official.
But the most poisonous part of the whispers told of secret “lists”: names of girls written in notebooks, next to explicit comments and scores as if part of a perverse game. Some students, when questioned, admitted they had received expensive gifts or cash in exchange for “keeping quiet.” The façade of impeccable discipline at the school began to crumble under the weight of these confessions.
And yet, despite everything, in Coppito there were still those who defended the accused, claiming it was nothing but exaggerated fantasies. But for many, every time they saw a uniform crossing the corridor, their minds returned to those locked rooms, where the smell of paper and chalk mixed with something far more forbidden — hot gossip in L’Aquila that no rule could contain.
The price of silence
The investigations were quick but, as often happens, they did not lead to real dismissals. Some teachers were transferred “for service reasons,” others remained. Officially, everything returned to normal. But in the city, the calm was only on the surface.
My life is not for everyone… but those who dare to live like me never go back…
The hot gossip in L’Aquila kept spreading, fueled by every new detail that leaked out. In the bars near the school, it was enough to sit at the counter to hear half-finished phrases, whispers cut off by complicit smiles: “…that night… in uniform…”, “…it wasn’t the first time…”.
Some claimed they had seen certain familiar faces entering and leaving the offices late at night, while others swore that explicit photos and spicy messages were still circulating in the internal chats. Curiosity grew, and the more they tried to cover up the case, the more insistent the whispers became. There were worried parents, former students ready to speak, and even colleagues who, behind closed doors, admitted to knowing far more than they officially declared.
My friend, with an ironic smile, said: “Before, I used to go to their workplace… now they come to my house.” And she added, laughing: “The difference is that now they don’t have to pretend to ask questions or correct assignments. They already know what they came for, and I know exactly what I want from them.” At that moment I understood that, for some, the sex scandal in L’Aquila was not a stain to erase but a new way of playing behind closed doors — where teachers in uniform in Coppito and forbidden whispers at the vocational school in L’Aquila had become part of the game itself.
Two opposite perspectives
— “Here in Coppito they talk about nothing else now,” she concluded with a mischievous smile.
And I think that if I had ever found myself in such a place, my “diploma” would have been filled with indelible memories… and very spicy ones. Because I am not just any student: I am a trans woman and a prostitute, and my work-passion feeds me, entertains me, and allows me to live exactly the way I want.
In a city where forbidden whispers at the vocational school in L’Aquila became louder each day, and where the shadow of a sex scandal in L’Aquila refused to fade, my perspective is different. While others see shame, I see desire unveiled. Where teachers in uniform in Coppito tried to hide their instincts behind authority, I recognize the same hunger that drives clients to me at night. Complaints by students and internal investigations may silence some, but for me, the hot gossip in L’Aquila is just another reminder that no mask of discipline can cover the truth of our bodies and our cravings.
I know how to recognize certain games, and I know when to take part and when to lead the game myself. But if I had been a young student, ending up there just to study and suddenly finding myself subjected, unwillingly, to that kind of attention… then yes, I would have gone straight to the police station to file a complaint.
Two lives, two ways of looking at the same story. Mine, I know well, will never resemble theirs. And yes, sometimes there may be a veil of sadness… but it is compensated by luxury, money, attention, and above all, plenty of sex. This life I choose every single day. And I will continue to choose it as long as it gives me exactly what I want.
And perhaps, one day, someone will write about us without filters or fear, telling the world that behind certain closed doors there are not only scandals, but also lives that dare to challenge the rules. I will still be there, ready to turn every whisper into pleasure, every piece of hot gossip in L’Aquila into legend, and every night into a memory no one will ever be able to erase.
The sex scandal in L’Aquila, for me, is a story to be listened to with a drink in hand, knowing that behind those locked doors two worlds intersect: that of the unaware victims, and that of those who, like me, use seduction both as a weapon and as a shield. Where teachers in uniform in Coppito and forbidden whispers at the vocational school in L’Aquila collide with my own reality, I stand unapologetically—trans, prostitute, and alive.
Coppito today
Today, in the Coppito district, the school corridors seem quiet. But it only takes a whisper near a bar to still hear that same question: “Have you heard about the sex scandal in L’Aquila?” It is always followed by an exchange of names, muffled laughter, or complicit glances.
The hot gossip in L’Aquila is difficult to extinguish. Some claim that certain practices continue, but in a more hidden way. Others swear that everything has changed. I only know one thing: as long as there are closed places ruled by power and discipline, there will also be forbidden whispers at the vocational school in L’Aquila and teachers in uniform in Coppito, giving birth to stories that refuse to die.
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