It's a gorgeous spring day. The temperature finally reaches the mid-sixties, and it seems miraculous after a long, cold winter and too much snow.
It doesn't take long to get dressed for a serious bike ride. Black Lycra cycling tights, which hug my thighs like a second skin. Really, that's all they are: a second skin. You don't wear anything under cycling tights, since they're made with wonderful chamois lining to prevent saddle sores. I complete my outfit with a colorful cycling jersey, mostly red, highlighted with blue and white flashes. Aerodynamic helmet.
I look the part. About 5 foot eleven, lithe frame, with lean muscles. Dark hair, a little longer than usual. I haven't shaved for two days, so I look a little rough around the edges. My cycling look. Martial arts are my main sport, but I love getting on a bicycle and going for hours. It's so liberating and enjoyable. I thrive on the intensity and challenge.
But it's the first time on a bike in five months, and it wouldn't be smart to push too hard. So I decide to try the Sambro loop, which will take me along the coastline, a long, winding road with many short hills and a few long ones before it heads back to the city center. All in all, about 50 kilometres. A good test for the first ride of the season.
I move slowly through the city. Limbering. Cautious. It's Earth Day, so many cyclists are out. The drivers here are polite, but you can never be too careful. I have one long scar on my right leg, a reminder to pay close attention to the cars around me. But they soon thin out as I move to the city's outskirts.
What a glorious, glorious day! As I turn on to Shore Road, greeted by long, sloping hill, I pick up my pace. The wind, so fresh and clean, whips past me, and my strong legs quickly establish a brisk cadence. Along the water, past the yacht club, to the small fishing villages that wait beyond. Soon the hills start, and my breath comes in gasps, my thighs burn. I welcome the distraction, the opportunity to think.
It hasn't been easy these last six months. Alone again.
Melanie was smart and ambitious, but eventually that had been our undoing. Maybe I should have been more flexible; she had a wonderful career opportunity out west, and maybe I should have gone with her. But I love it here, and didn't want to move.
Besides, I wasn't sure she was the woman for me. She was blonde, shapely, lovely, and so many men looked at her longingly whenever we were out. But she didn't enjoy sex.
I was a patient lover. Until she had met me, she had never had an orgasm with a man. She'd never had an orgasm, period. In the past, she was drawn to selfish men who used her, and she never learned to enjoy her own sexuality, her own body. She said she had only tried masturbating a few times, but she never came.
Still I still liked making love to her. Her pussy was soft and warm, and sliding my cock inside of her was wonderful, but it took her a long time to get comfortable. She didn't like foreplay, though I longed to explore her every inch of her with my tongue. My first months were spent patiently licking her small nipples. She didn't know what to do with my cock, even though I had tried to teach her what I enjoy. In the beginning, she would only make love in the missionary position. I would lie on top of her, kissing her nipples and her mouth and neck, trying everything. I would thrust inside of her, sometimes slowly, sometimes harder, varying the depth of penetration, moving my cock around inside of her, rubbing her clit. I tried being quiet, and tried being expressive. Nothing.
Still I'd continue to pump away, hoping for some response. Anything. I'm sure it would have confounded most men, but I'm not insecure, have never felt sexually inadequate. The truth is that I love pleasing women, and I love being pleased. And that works fabulously for most lovers. Melanie would talk to me when we she was ready, I figured.
I do have one attribute that many men don't - I can come three or four times before I lose my erection. To me, it seems the most natural thing in the world, and I'd never thought it unusual. It was that way when I was 17 -- and it still holds true now that I'm in my thirties. I guess it's one benefit of being fit. So I could love Melanie for forty-five minutes, an hour, longer if she'd want. Eventually, I'd let myself come, and I'd slide out her, still hard and wanting.
I longed to go down on her, but she wouldn't hear of it. I told her how much I would love to please her with my mouth and tongue, but she didn't want me to. And she'd never dream of taking my dick in her mouth, and I missed it so much!
Still, we made love regularly, if not often, and I remained faithful to her. Eventually, we had a breakthrough, and when we had sex, she would have small, soft orgasms that made her skin flush. She still wouldn't let me taste her, but at least we tried a few new positions, and I was hopeful that she'd become more adventurous when we'd make love. Maybe even pleasure herself.
Then the job opportunity, and she left. On the last night, she had a wonderful deep orgasm, breathless when she came, and I moved down yet again to prolong the pleasure with my tongue and soft lips... She grabbed me quickly, panicking. And it didn't happen. I thought that orgasm was a chance to stay together. She thought it was a parting gift.
All this ran through my mind as my legs pumped, and I noticed that my cock was at half-mast, very visible and straining at the tight Lycra. I had better pay attention to the road.
I didn't return to reality soon enough. The pothole was a spring doozy, and within two seconds, the tire was flat and I was on my rim. I pulled the extra tube from beneath my saddle.
Helmet removed, I start working. While I'm crouching on the roadside, I don't notice the car backing up until I hear the crunching gravel, and a familiar woman's voice, asking if I needed any help.
I stand up, and regret immediately, for my bulge is showing, and I'm standing before a woman whose been in my thoughts for almost nine months, since we talked for an hour at a party. She comes from a traditional Chinese family, but she's just beautiful... Exotic and sexy, with a fit, curvy body, and surprisingly full breasts. I've been wondering what it would be like to kiss her delicious lips, so full and sensuous.
______________
You slow the second you see me, and it's obvious that you've noticed the five-inch bulge in my cycling shorts.
You laugh, and break the ice.
"Hey David! I was stopping to offer you a lift, but maybe I should leave the two of you alone."
I'm sheepish, and apologize for making both of us uncomfortable.
"Well, I feel a little like Mae West... Like I should ask you if you always pack heat when you go for a cycle."
You laugh with a genuine ease that is so charming. But you are checking me out.
I feel the familiar tingling.
"Dear God, will you stop talking about it before I get a full erection."
That wipes the smile off your face completely.
"Oh my god! Are you telling me that your penis isn't hard yet?"
"Well, no," I answer. "I'd have wrapped my jacket around my waist to cover up, if I was... But I generally try to avoid erections when cycling."
"Oh my god." You're actually giggling nervously. "That's amazing. Are you're sure you're not lying?"
I shake my head.
You laugh again, somewhat awkwardly. "I can't believe it! I mean, I've only slept with three men -- two Chinese and one Japanese -- and you're already bigger than any of them. By a wide margin. Oh man!"
