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My boyfriend is a masked rider. A secret boyfriend that I can't tell anyone about. He's been my unrequited love for a long time, but we've finally been able to go out. But still, I'm the one chasing him, and sometimes he shows up on his Suzuki motorcycle and passes by my body. He's black during the day, but at night he turns into a black RX. He's so wonderful at night. He's so passionate, wild, and hard and shiny black. Of course, he's black during the day, so he's shiny black, but there's something crucially different about him. I like how gloomy and servile he is during the day, but I can't compete with his glaring eyes at night. When he stares at me with those eyes, my body stops listening to me like I'm paralyzed and I can't do anything. I feel so much that I don't care if I'm eaten up and die. We jump around together like grasshoppers. I'm happy. I'm sure he's popular, so he might have relationships with other women besides me. But I'm fine with that. Because I'm so happy that I love him. But if I had one complaint, it would be that I wish he would ride a Honda instead of a Suzuki.