grabbed a pair of black jeans, a red midriff top, and my black timberlands. He liked the outfit so much, that we almost didn’t make it out of my bedroom.
After ten minutes of fondling each; we decided to cut it short and to head downstairs, or we wouldn’t be going anywhere. Kavon asked me if I had a jacket to put on. So I grabbed my black leather jacket from the hall closet as Kavon headed out the door. “Have you ever been on a motorcycle before? He asked, as he un-strapped the spare helmet off the backseat. “Yes,” I replied. “I use to ride with my dad all the time.” “Okay, so you know how to move with someone?” he asked. I looked up and smartly replied. “Haven’t I shown you that already?” I said and laughed. “Well, since this was the first time you’re riding with me, I still need to tell you my rules of the do’s and don’ts while riding as my passenger,” Kavon said with a serious face. He explained how to mount, dismount, and how to sit on the bike. Then he explained what I should do if when he took a corner or sharp turn. I patiently listen and smiled to myself. I was entrusting my safety to this man and impressed that he showed concerned for my safety and welfare unlike some of the guys I’ve ridden with. He placed the helmet on my head, tightened the straps under my chin, and handed me a pair of gloves for my hands. Then he put on his helmet then his gloves then zipped up his jacket. He got on the bike first and when he was ready he motioned for me to get on. I placed my arms tightly around his waist, leaned my body close to his, and we were off. We jumped on to the Southern State Parkway headed toward the city. We zipped in and out between cars and vans with little or no effort. Eighty, ninety, a hundred and forty miles an hour on the straight a ways; in the matter of a blink of an eye! Damn, this bike’s fast, I thought to myself. We ended up at Coney Island, and everyone and anyone who had a bike was there. In fact, it looked a lot like Bike Fest in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. Bikes were everywhere! There were Ducatis, Aprillias, Kawasakis, Suzukis, BMWs and Harleys. Men, women, blacks, Spanish, whites, young and old; you name it, they were out there.
Kavon zigged and zagged down the street until he recognized a few of his friends. He tooted his horn at his friends then made a U-turn and looked for a spot to park the bike. He backed in between two cars and turned off the motor. I slipped off the bike and pulled off my jacked and helmet while Kavon secured a lock on the front wheel. When he finished, he smacked me on my ass and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Then we made our way through the crowd to meet up with is friends and greeted them with handshakes and hugs. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the sights and sounds of the beach. After a while, the guys decided to take a ride to Manhattan. Kavon and I walked with his friends to their bikes and watch them get suited up. His friends pulled out of their parking spaces and lined up two by two in front of where we were parked. They gave each other the high sign and sped off down Coney Island Avenue in unison. Kavon and I grabbed a frank from Nathan’s then took a stroll on the boardwalk before returning to his bike. It was damn near ninety-eight degrees outside and hot as hell! After a half hour or so, we headed back to the bike and decided to go back to my house to finish what we had started earlier. Damn, the ride home was exhilarating! What a rush! It was like I could feel my pulse rushing through my body or better yet; like I had gulped down ten cups of espresso all at once.
I couldn’t wait to get home, besides my legs and ass was sore, and my back was starting to bother me. So when we Kavon pulled into my driveway, I eagerly jumped off as soon as it was safe to do so. He pulled the bike behind the gate and came into the