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Morning Glory

Just wrap your legs round these velvet rims, And strap your hands across my engines. ~Bruce Springsteen


sexy motorcycle First thing this morning, I mounted her, threw my leg over her sexy body settled comfortably on the slight depression in the middle of her erotic body, ran my fingertips up and down her luscious curves, those silky smooth curves, those curves oozing sensuality, settled my hands on her controls, press the magic button and felt her come to life, felt her purr like a young kitten lost in pleasure, rotated my wrist felt the full measure of her power rumbling between my legs, power that surged again and again with every twist of of my wrist. Once she was good and hot, once I could feel the tension in her body straining to be released, I slowly loosed my grip, the grip keeping her balanced on the edge between tension and ecstasy, gave her one last impassioned twist of my wrist, she bucked then screamed into action, escaped the confines of gravity and we flew down the street in the first sweet drops of morning twilight. Within one block, we blew past 50 miles an hour, the cool wind ran over our bodies, body less fingers caressed all exposed flesh infusing life into a weary soul, tingling a fatigued body with exhilarating freshness unique to first dawn on a spring day.

This was the first motorcycle ride of the season, an early morning ride on the way to work, a ride on a day that was perfect in temperment. Though short, the ride was intoxicating, seemed to wash away the cares like a skinny dip in a cool mountain stream on a chilled spring morning while the birds broke into morning song. It made me feel alive. Ecstatic. My senses stimulated by the cool morning temps after an night when I tossed and turned in the unseasonable heat despite two fans in my bedroom blowing on my naked body. My fatigue was erased at the first twist of the throttle. My energy peaked as I shot down the street, a jet fighter on two wheels cutting through the morning air, a fighter pilot dodging the endless array of enemies in their four wheeled cages as I flew down the black ribbons.

I was soaring on adrenaline, loosed of worldly cares, unbounded by thought, unencumbered by the incessant demands of everyday life, free as a satiated newborn fresh off the teat with milk drop sliding down a creased chin. I was a being fully immersed in the now, in the present, timeless, weightless, immortal. It was at that moment, the moment when I was pure existence, pure bodiless energy that I saw it. It was at that moment when my eyes feasted upon the sun just above the horizon in all it’s celestial glory, the sun in tangerine robes shimmering on the horizon, the sun hovering at the end of the black ribbon beckoning me onward, beckoning me ever onward.

It was a moment of clarity in a life frequently cluttered with must dos and have tos, a moment as pure as morning dew on a petal just opened, a moment pregnant with understanding, a birth without pain. At that moment I understood, at that moment I was utterly free, at that moment I understood eternal truth, at that moment I understood that I am.


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