Novmber 2007. Things are cooling down (literally and figuratively), when the Moroccan sends a text “care to meet?” Family in tow means my place is off limits, so we settle for coffee at the corniche. Of course he’s late, but texts again “am by your car”. I return to my vehicle and he’s there, behind the wheel of a shiny new SUV. “Get in…”, so I do. We’re heading out towards a more deserted part of town, when he grabs my hand and shoves it into his crotch. Now, apparently, I can touch him. My fingers massage his ever fattening bulge as he smiles and keeps driving. We get to a deserted beach and pull over, mindful of occasional police patrols. One comes by, so he grabs his mobile and pretends to talk – they drive right by. I then grab the phone and shove it under my balls, instructing him to come and get it. Juvenile stuff, but who cares. While he’s fiddling with my pants, I’m fiddling with his. Dicks come out and we are gently stroking one another. Suddenly he yells “oh shit”, and I think another patrol has come by. But the poor lad has lost it and shot his load, and is terrified he’ll stain his brand new upholstery! Some work with the tissues and I was also done. With his balls cupped in my hand we drove back to the city. I suspect he took a few more speed bumps than was strictly necessary.