She could feel its touch through her red shoes. He began humming, moving his feet to the melody. He was not shy. He didn’t seem so, anyway. There wa... something about this man she could not understand. It was like she was drawn to him, he took all her sensibilities from her, she was like cured meat. It was not a romantic analogy but it was true, it was like the water was her sensibilities and he was the salt, drawing it out. She put her hand onto the chair next to her and felt a piece of fabric,. The welt fascinates me. I trace the line of the raised flesh with my fingers,sending conflicting messages racing through my body. Pain, yes, but also, shockingly,absolute arousal. I continue to caress the line, and the pain gradually fades.The arousal doesn't, quite the opposite. As I stand there, caressing the welt across my forearm, my mind picturesother welts on other parts of my body, more sensitive parts. But to obtainthose welts requires the pain. Imagine that pain, imagine how much worse. I always feel like a pervert, but I get the impression, she wants me to be looking at her. I always look down and I’m pretty sure I turn about three shades of red. I don’t really have any experience with women. I’m nerdy and just like to play games. A few times, I have looked at the hot models in the nude magazines. I’ve never kissed a girl or seen their boobs. I’m just not really interested in women yet. Don’t get me wrong, I do play with my dick. I like making myself cum and sometimes will. – ‘You’ve been to Algeria?’ she asked, surprised. – ‘No – sorry. I didn’t mean to give that impression. Closest I’ve ever been was Morocco.’ – ‘Pretty close. I’ve been there, too.’ said Christina. ‘Did you enjoy it?’ – ‘Very much.’ I said. ‘Marrakech was interesting, but my favorite spot was Essaouira, on the coast.’ – ‘You and Jimi Hendrix.’ she laughed. ‘Cat Stevens liked it, too.’ – ‘Don’t forget Orson Welles.’ I added. He filmed Othello there in the 1950s. That random thought – Othello.