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In a creation myth rivaling that of the most powerful shoguns of ancient Japan, today you were born into the body of a coal black Aprilia RSV4.
Your dark, naked body shone in the full moonlight that permeated the room and caused our bodies to contrast so virtually we embodied natural duality. My hair lapped across your taut chest – dampening into mahogany cat o’nine tails. Our sweat mixed as we writhed against one another; resting only momentarily in ecstatic postures. As we posed in tantra, our tongues met first, then moist lips slipped top over bottom, bottom over top – exchanging the business of being in charge.
There seemed to be no limit to the amount of pleasure we could receive from each other. Then suddenly, without warning your chiseled arms wrapped themselves around my perfect, round ass and lifted. I was on top of you in an instant. Supine beneath me, you tensed every muscle as solid and hard as your cock. I felt you grow deeper inside me. Every inhale was a gasp of pleasure. Every exhale was a moan of sweet release.
Darkness enveloped us as the moon rose too high to illuminate our bed through the tall southern window of the room. There were no doors. The blankets and pillows were yours. Dizzy whimpered in the corner and you reassured her that we would both live through the ordeal. I lost sight of you. I blinked. I looked down where you should have been – where I could still feel you. I saw the shine of your body as I had before and relaxed for a moment. But, how could you shine when there was no moon?
The warmth of your body between my legs became something all together new and exciting. I felt your body heave as our sweat turned molten and cooled to smooth metal. Electricity passed through us and your atoms split – exposed to oxygen in the brisk, night air that blew in from the open window. We shivered as we both came to orgasm. That would be our last common act as human beings.
I held on tight with both legs; my creamy thighs straining for a grip. Your chest turned to chassis - a twin-spar adjustable aluminum frame dipped in anthracite – the highest rank of coal – just for looks. Your arms dissolved Christ-like from around my waist into a front suspension of 43-mm stanchions in an upside-down fork. Your elbows became adjustable and spring preloaded with hydraulic compression for rebound damping. Your hands were dual 320-mm diameter floating stainless steel discs with Brembo monobloc radial calipers. I shuddered and reached to cradle your head as I realized what was happening.
Mixed low and thick, your legs became the twin-sided swing arm now deftly fitted between the bend where my hip and ankle made a perfect triangle. Your knees merged into one Öhlins Racing monoshock with piggyback. Your feet morphed into a 220-mm disc brake with a Brembo floating caliper and two 32-mm isolated pistons. Instead of boots, you wore completely machined Aprilia forged aluminum alloy five-split spokes.
A breeze picked up in the room and swept my hair around my shoulders to barely cover the tips of my rock hard nipples. I was excited and scared. I still held your head in my hands. You looked up at me with a stare so confident; my fear vanished and was replaced again by desire. It appeared as though you were glowing through a third eye!
As the transformation was near complete, I knew that this ethereal glow would soon be the center of the tri-jeweled crown of guiding light on our impending journey. I pinched the your fleshy lobes one last time before they turned to grips; found a comfortable two-fingered position around the brakes and managed a giggle as I imagined tickling you behind both ears.
By this time, your internal organs were in a severe state of flux but the metamorphosis from man to machine was made somewhat more acceptable to me knowing that you already had a four-chambered heart. Not exactly a 65-degree V-four built for superior agility and rear-wheel traction; but a ventricle system none the less. The expansive network of veins that once moved blood beneath your flesh morphed into a fly-by-wire throttle system with double overhead camshafts. Your atria now variable-length intake ducts, and a total of eight fuel injectors. Your blood as pure and powerful a fuel as the god Inari could bestow upon a pious farmer.
Your lungs of course, were reconfigured 4 into 2 into 1 with a single oxygen sensor. And the rest of your respiratory system was now simply one lateral silencer with an engine unit-controlled butterfly valve and integrated trivalent catalytic converter. You now weighed 395 pounds – dry.
Now that the conversion was complete, I reveled in the pure joy that was the melding of your soul to the bike beneath me. Although some would say you became mon objet d'amour, you were in every sense still utterly in control. All I could do was hold on. It was different all alone on the front. The wind lashed out, seeking penance for my sins. It didn’t ask my permission and there was no safety word to stop it. As the RSV4, you sensed my boundaries and slowed into a turn to deflect the pressure. On the downshift, your newfound voice sent a tingle from my toes to my tits with a deep, penetrating rumble gnash before hitting the perfect note in the space between my hips where my clit rubbed against the hard leather inseam of my new riding gear. I hoped it never softened.
Your mouth seemed to swallow whole parts of the road in lurching gulps as we lunged forward into the abyss that was 177bhp and 85lb ft. of torque. It was all I could do to bow my head and kiss the tank where I once felt your heart beat too fast to be human. You reared up like a wild stallion at that moment and I knew no one would ever tame you. This only served to make me more excited. I easily compared my exaltation to the day all emperors descended from the sun goddess who formed the islands of Japan in her womb and birthed them from a cloud. You were man, machine and manga legend all rolled into one.
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