Violica was beautiful, young and whore: the weather, relentless robber of life, gradually withdraws its explosive charm, returning in exchange for an increasing number of years behind him. The only thing is that it can not remove his hunger for sex, which has been refined with experience in intelligence and will. But people are partial judges of love affairs, and too often we are fooled by the splendor of youth.
Marco has thirteen years of age twice, that's not good to tell in a matter of being voted down in the eighth grade. Misunderstood seducer peers, he spends his time dreaming the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, unforgettable star of Anal Wars hits like and Good Luck the black clubs, videotapes that poor Mark has found his uncle in an old wardrobe.
Violica you look in the mirror, and is no longer. The lines mark the face as the small mountain streams and the lips, once red, fleshy, are lost in a sad smile and gone bad. Her tits, big and tasty, they begin to suffer the blandishments of the law of gravity, like his celebrated B-side, who want to take a deserved rest after hard work tends to relax too.
Marco, tired of making love alone in front of the TV, found in the enchantment of his innocence, the strength to go and find the woman that è innamorato, ed è pronto a dichiararsi senza paura.
Violica si infila svogliatamente la vestaglia, e si chiede cosa potrà mai volere da lei un ragazzino di tredici anni.
Ti amo le sussurra dolcemente lui appena la vede
Tu cosa?
Io ti amo. Dal vivo sei ancora più bella che in Guerre Anali .
Mi stai prendendo in giro?
Non potrei mai.
Violica lo fissa attentamente, e vede nei suoi giovani occhi quel fuoco che da tanto tempo non riusciva più ad accendere negli uomini. Sorride maliziosa e si lascia scivolare la vestaglia davanti all'espressione sbigottita di lui.
Entra, dai.
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