Cycling

I suppose I should take credit for what happened. Or blame, if you're that way inclined. It was like this.

I'm a weekend cyclist. I like to get out on weekends and ride, preferably in the country or up in the mountains. I think it's great zipping along a mountain road, able to see for miles, both out and down. Sometimes you're in groups, other times you're on your own, just you and that tall mountain.

The day it happened I was on my own, heading up this mountain and wondering which trail to take back down. There's a crossroad near the top of the mountain, with a picnic area set up on one corner. Little used as there were far better facilities slightly lower down.

I pulled up at the crossroad to take a break and a sip of water, looking around and admiring the view. While I was doing this, three more cyclists came zipping up, each coming up a different road and, seeing me standing there taking a break, they seemed by mutual accord to decide to do the same.

We casually nodded at each other and exchanged names. Just a Ron, Molly, Becky and Geoff, and then we just stood around, communing with nature.

Speaking of nature, those two women were wonderful examples of it. Young, fit, shapely and reasonably pretty. Not supermodels, or even any sort of model, but nice examples of that pretty girl next door. Both girls were wearing Lycra tops and shorts, and you know how those things can show off a figure. When tight enough, those shorts will even let you know if a woman shaves, and I'll swear that Molly did.

So here I was, just standing there, admiring ALL the scenery, when Molly sees me giving her the once over and laughs. Now Molly's Lycra outfit had these amazing swirls of colour on them that the eye just naturally followed, ending up looking at interesting places. I commented that I hadn't seen that sort of pattern before and Molly told me it was unique.

"I have a friend who paints clothes," she told me. "This is one of her paint jobs. Good, isn't it?"

I had to admit that it was a striking effect. "Just paint?" I asked.

"Just paint," I was assured. Molly tapped her shoulder and said if you touch it you can feel the difference between the material and the paint.

What could I do? I ran my hand over her sleeve, feeling where the paint started, and then my hand just naturally followed the swirls to the end. Like I said, your eyes are drawn to interesting places and so was my hand.

Molly gave me an old fashioned look and gently pushed my hand to one side, but by then I was curious. I touched the swirl starting on the other shoulder and followed that to its end.

Again Molly brushed my hand away, but it didn't matter. I had already transferred my attention to her shorts, and I wasn't even looking at her to see her reaction while I traced the patterns down there. At least until I finished, and I realised just where my finger had finished.

Startled, I looked up at Molly, but she was just watching me, face complete unreadable. Not blank, just unreadable.

I don't know where the impulse came from, or the nerve to follow through on it, but my hands went into reverse, retracing those swirls back from their central finishing point and up to the top of her shorts. Unfortunately, I couldn't seem to make my hands stop at that point and they continued up to her top, but instead of tracing the pattern on her top I was sliding it up and over Molly's breasts, which came spilling down into my grateful clutches.

A nice thing about Lycra, it's so supportive that women often feel no need to wear bras. Molly, happily, being one of those women.

I paid some polite attention to those two wonderful globes, feeling them swell appreciatively to my touch.

I heard a muffled sound and, realising I'd forgotten about Becky and Geoff, I glanced over at them. Becky was staring interestedly at what I was doing, while Geoff was casting thoughtful glances between us and Becky. I saw him reach out and cup Becky's breast, and instead of pushing him away her hand came up and just closed on his.

Drawing my full attention back to Molly, I started running my hands back down her body, slipping one down the front of her shorts and the other around and across her bottom. At this point I hear a squeak from Becky and had to take another look.

Geoff had decided to go for broke and was already sliding Becky's shorts down. She was watching him with a look of shock, but not trying to stop him.

I glanced up at Molly and saw that she was also looking at Molly and Geoff, and she had a look on her face that indicated total approval of what was going on there.

I can take a hint. Molly's shorts were very quickly sliding down, leaving her fully exposed to my view. And taste. And touch.

My mouth descended, pleasuring a firm young breast while my hand also descended and played with other things. Molly was breathing deeply and pushing herself against me where-ever I was touching her, enjoying the unexpected pleasures.

Again we heard a small scream from Becky, and a glance showed us that Geoff had indeed been moving fast once he decided to go for it. He had Becky bent over the picnic table and was eagerly penetrating her. She didn't seem quite so eager, but rather startled about all that was going on, apparently not sure how she has arrived at this point.

I could see when she became totally aware of a cock entering her because her eyes went wide and she was no longer looking at what we were doing but concentrating on what she was doing. Or, I should say, on what was being done to her. Geoff seemed very enthusiastic.

At that point I again switched my attention back to Molly, and I could see she had been watching with interest as Becky was shafted.

Now I was urging her to lie on the grass and was kneeling between her thighs. I dropped my shorts so that Molly could see my erection, giving her plenty of time to accept what was coming. Then I leaned forward, parted her lips enough to let me enter, and slid firmly home.

Molly gave a pleased little squeal, pushing firmly up against me, and her legs rose and clamped around me. Now that I was in her she had no intention of letting me go.

You can pretty much guess the rest. I took my time and thoroughly ravished Molly, plunging deep and withdrawing slowly, feeling her legs clamping on me which each thrust. We were both breathing heavily, and I was happy that the cycling kept me fit because I needed to be to keep up.

And all the time we were entertaining each other we could hear little squeaks and squawks coming from Becky as Geoff gave her a thorough rogering. From the amazement in Becky's voice, I don't think she understood even now how this had all happened.

I have to admit I didn't know exactly how it all came about, but I wasn't letting it worry me and neither was Molly. We were moving together like old partners, taking our time and matching our strokes as though from long practise.

There was a final shrill scream from Becky, which I assume was her climax and then silence. Well, not quite silence. Molly was now giving her own little squeaks and squeals of excitement as I rode her hard, peddling fast to the finish line, you might say. If it was a race, she won, because she suddenly screamed and her legs released me as she kicked them into the sky. That was OK, because I didn't mind coming a close second, and then I was slowly cycling the victory lap with her, before we both coasted to a halt.

Relaxing and separating, I looked around. Becky was watching us, scarlet faced, while Geoff had tidied himself up and was mounting his bike. He nodded to us and then shot off down the road.

Molly and I tidied ourselves, while Becky just stood there, still blushing. Molly looked over to Becky and spoke.

"That was very interesting, if unexpected," she said. "Um, I think you really should put your panties back on now."

Listening to another small shriek of horror from Becky and the sound of her frantic dressing I rode down my chosen path.

Cycling is a great sport, and you can run into the most unexpected challenges. I'd have to come this way again.