sex on bike: Chronicles of Dreams, Love, and Triumph

“sex on bike” is morning light through lace curtains. She wakes tangled in white sheets, hair wild, skin warm. The first thing “sex on bike” shows is her hand slipping beneath cotton panties already soaked from dreams. Lazy circles turn urgent; fabric darkens under her touch. She kicks the sheet away, knees falling open, giving “sex on bike” an unobstructed view of fingers plunging in and out, thumb relentless on her clit. Sunbeams dance across trembling thighs. In “sex on bike”, she comes quietly at first—then louder, back bowing off the mattress, crying “sex on bike” like a prayer into the empty room as pulses milk her fingers dry.