discovered the pleasure of pain by chance. As a child I felt a strange satisfaction when their classmates pushed him down the stairs I did not know if it was best push, hit or back licking his wounds. end his bad attitude in class without differentiating whether he liked most the clamor, the violent pull of hair or the sweeping stroke of the wooden paddle on his hands ... Although there was nothing like the maternal spanking on their rosy buttocks, shouting reached the highest insolence to rhythmic succession of slaps that did not stop ever. Pleasure in the agreement, in the coup and subsequent contemplation red cheeks to the bruising. In his teens many looked on as a freak when you meddle in girls fighting in which, curiously, always seemed to get the brunt in the form of hair-pulling or slaps unanswered. A curious attitude that went to his first romantic encounters in the grips and loving asking where simulated crashes less painful pinching of zippers ... But his imagination was more there: it had reached the ropes, ties, black leather, high boots and up, why deny it, the caramel apple ... in the mouth. Mental images of that night joined the reality of a bite, of nails driven into his back and the best of the most painful and pleasurable fantasies ...
- Hey, Nazarene, can I wax?
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