Pure Speed – Motorcycle racers in new white and black leather suits

I'm standing by the pit wall, the sun beating down on the asphalt. Two riders are just rolling out of the pit lane: brand new, immaculate leather suits in deep black and pure white, without a single sponsor sticker. The suits gleam as if they've just stepped out of the box. Their helmets are flipped up; all you can see are their determined eyes and the small beads of sweat on their foreheads. The sound of the engines vibrates in my chest as they roll onto the starting straight. This scene – perfect machines, perfect gear, pure concentration – is simply motorsport in its purest form. I could watch it for hours.

I took a photo the exact moment they were waiting side-by-side at the pit wall. The warm white light of the afternoon sun bathed their new leather suits, making every seam and zipper gleam. You could see how the fabric stretched across their broad shoulders, how it bulged slightly at their thighs because the muscles beneath were so defined. My eyes slowly traced the lines – from the gloves up to the forearms, across their chests to their necks. I felt a little warm, but I just kept looking, enjoying this sight of perfection and power.

I'm zooming in on the image now. The leather clings so tightly that you can make out every contour beneath it. Where the legs are slightly spread on the machine, a distinct, rounded bulge is visible – still completely relaxed, but perfectly visible through the tight material. In my imagination, this bulge slowly grows, pressing against the zipper, as the riders rev the engine a few more times and the engine roars. My hand rests on my thigh now, perfectly still, but I can feel my pulse quickening each time I imagine the leather stretching a little more.

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