History of F

The morning always had a bitter taste to F. had never been able to wake up before twelve. It was a sort of rite, he opened his eyes at noon. This was perhaps because he went to bed every holy day not before four in the morning or maybe because he loved lounging in bed but not asleep. His life actually had a messed up order manic disorder. He loved to pull late with friends in the street and drink and get drunk a bit 'in moderate quantities. A common standard for the boys of his generation grew up in the shadow of the myth of the buzz and fun at all costs. He did not like wearing clothes and makeup almost always worn trousers and tight t-shirts and worn and cared only about hair that colored a deep red and unnatural. She was wearing high heels, however, that gave her unsteady gait and falls insecure and risk increased with the phases of the buzz at night. He had a wiry body and breasts bursting out on the street and never passed unnoticed. Two slender and tapered legs and a round ass and made ​​precise contour to thick hair: curly red fire that moved like springs on the slender shoulders. The money she had never been a problem, had an annuity that his parents had left the dead prematurely. It was a mind-boggling amount, but for small needs could be enough. His life was proceeding with the usual regularity questionable: after the usual alarm clock, almost always ended up in the shower then a rite of hot coffee and a biscuit, then dived into the streets of the historic center of Naples where he was up to his friends, a group of idlers who had no future as their sole purpose in life to drink and take drugs without brakes. Life, however, often unexpected surprises and F that would be a day that would change his life forever ... (more)