Handjob on the scooter

It was a summer evening, one of those where the warm air mixes with the scent of lime trees and freshly asphalted roads. My girlfriend and I were returning home after an evening with friends: laughter, light chatter, a few drinks and the usual complicity that bonded us in a special way. Traffic on the highway was light, headlights whizzing past us as I rode our scooter, enjoying the coolness on my skin and its presence behind me. At a certain point, while we were on the most isolated stretch of the road, I felt his hands moving with a certain intention. At first I didn’t really understand what was happening. I turned towards her for a moment – as much as possible without taking my eyes off the road – and saw her smiling behind the visor of her helmet. That totally unexpected gesture left me perplexed, but I couldn’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline mixed with excitement. I tried to maintain concentration while driving, while she, provocatively but sweetly, continued her little game. Every now and then a car passed by, but in that semi-darkness and at the speed with which everything was moving, it was difficult to say if anyone had noticed anything. Yet the thought alone was enough to make the emotion grow. It didn’t last long – those moments always seem eternal and yet they pass in a flash. After a moment of silence, I heard her giggle tenderly into the helmet. Then he approached with a tight hug, as if he wanted me to know that, as crazy as that gesture was, it was done with love and intimacy. A gesture that, in its extravagant way, told how free and unpredictable she was. Once we got home, we looked at each other and burst out laughing. It had certainly been something reckless, bordering on dangerous. But also one of those moments that – however wrong or reckless – remain etched in the memory. Like a little shared secret, a fragment of youth lived without filters.