Pedal Pulse
The city’s got a million eyes, and today, for some reason, I’m loving every single one of them.
The bike tires hum against the pavement, a steady rhythm that matches the pulse between my thighs. The sun kisses my skin, warm and insistent, but it’s the breeze that really gets to me. It slips under the hem of my skin-tight leggings, sheer enough that the lace of my thong doesn’t just peek—it announces itself to anyone who dares to look. And I know they’re looking. I catch glimpses of myself in storefront windows as I...