13

Faust

DROPS OF SWEAT cascaded down my body, dripping onto my treadmill belt. I ran every morning at my gym, but today I couldn't stop, punishing myself for no reason.

Although I had forced Giulio and Francesca to have dinner the night before, I didn't expect them to stay out so late. When they returned, I studied the footage and watched my son take her to his room. They remained there for some time, and then Francesca emerged, barefoot, with her shoes in her hands, with her hair disheveled. Had Giulio fucked her?

I scoffed. Boys. If my son had fucked her, he would have done a terrible job. If I had her in my bed, I would keep her there all night, giving her more orgasms than her body could handle. I would have her in every position – against a wall, from behind, under me and under me. And I wouldn't stop, doing every depraved thing my mind could conjure, until she was screaming, unable to take it anymore.

Cazzo, why couldn't I stop fantasizing about her?

I increased my speed, running