Standing on Fifth Avenue waiting till 10 AM for my appointment at the temp agency I suddenly noticed before me a rather tall black man, perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties. He was unlocking his bike from the scaffolding that  was supposed to protect us from falling debris. But it was little protection from this man standing before me. He was wearing those tight black, shiny, Lycra bicycling outfits that seemed so popular then. 
     He didn't really seem to be my type, whatever that is, but I couldn't help noticing a large bulge in his pants. Quite obviously he had a hard-on. It looked wonderful sticking straight up tight against his belly, not terribly large, but very noticeable. I must have been staring because as he stood up he looked directly at me, winked and smiled, then turned around, mounted his bike and rode off down the avenue. 
     I wondered as he rode off how it felt riding a bike in a skintight outfit like that with a hard-on. How did it feel as his legs pumped the bike and the friction massaged his cock as it slipped up and down against his belly. I wondered what or who turned him on and if he would cum as he rode. 

                                                                                       — September 17, 1987