Chloe Rides Again Pt 06

This series is a sequel to the earlier work "Riding With Dirty Girls." You can probably get something out of the sex scenes in isolation, but to fully enjoy the story you really need to read Dirty Girls first.

This is a work of fiction. A figment of the author's imagination. It is not meant to be big on realism. It's a fantasy. The culture around world-class women's cycling probably isn't a hotbed of lesbian lust, but wouldn't it be fun if it were?

All characters are fictitious, and any that are involved in sexual activities are over 18.

***

Part 06: De Ronde and a Blonde.

'Oh, what the f...'

There I was, 7pm Tuesday night, 50 mile training ride done, freshly showered, fed and watered, feeling horny, and just settling down, naked with my toys, for a long luxurious wank, when the bloody doorbell rang. Who the fuck was here at this time?

I thought of ignoring it, and I heard a car drive away, so I thought whoever it was may have gone, but then it rang again... Dammit. I got up, Put on my dressing gown and slippers, and went down, warily, to the front door. I looked through the peephole and my heart skipped a beat. There she was, brightly lit by the security light. Licia.

I fumbled with the door furniture; undo the mortice lock, take off the safety chain, release the Yale lock... and then she was in my arms, laughing as I swung her from side to side. Oh man, I squeezed her so tight, and clung to her for a long, long time, and she just held me.

Finally, I released her. 'Now that's the kind of welcome that's worth two taxis, two airports, and flying 200 miles for,' she grinned.

I went into babbling mode as I re-locked the door. 'But wha...? How? When did you...? Have you eaten...? Here, let me take your coat...'

She stood and stared at me steadily, ignoring everything I was babbling, then she stepped forward and undid the sash of my dressing gown. She peeled it off my shoulders and let it drop to the ground, and she looked at me, those big brown eyes smouldering with desire.

I stood there, naked apart from my tatty old slippers, with my gown pooled at my feet, and she pulled me to her and kissed me with a passion that was beyond a Helen kiss, a fervour that was greater than a Molly kiss, and lust that even exceeded that of Marianne, just three days before.

I stumbled back under the sheer power of her ardour, almost falling over her suitcase, which had been carelessly abandoned, and she manoeuvred me backwards -- without breaking the kiss -- into the lounge, where fell back onto the couch.

My joy and euphoria soared. She was here, she was making love to me, her desire was palpable and, as you may recall, I'd been about to have a wank... I was primed and ready.

Her lips hardly left me. She kissed her way down my neck (oohh) to my tits, and she sucked avidly on my oh-so pointy nipples, which were sending electric shocks to my clit as her mouth worked its magic. Her tongue writhed round and round, tracing squirls around my little spires of desire, and I gasped and moaned

She continued down, urgently, kissing my stomach and inhaling, as if savouring the scent of my skin, then she trailed her tongue through my pubes and down into the soft moist place between my lips. I opened my legs as wide as I could, and she plunged into me, holding me open with her thumbs, and simply gorging on me.

She was enraptured. As well as tonguing me expertly, she was also relishing feel of me and the taste of me. I was very, very wet, and she bathed her face in me, rubbing her nose and her cheeks against my sapid, syrupy flesh and moaning... 'Ohhh, so fuckin gorgeous.'

As I said, I was primed and ready, already hot and horny before she even arrived, and I simply could not survive this torrid onslaught of prurient passion. My first orgasm was sheer ecstasy, and I cried out as if in anguish as a hurricane of bliss swept me away.

I arced through a universe of pleasure, my peak rising higher and higher, every muscle tensed and trembling. My pussy pulsing with an exquisite pleasure-pain, and my hands clenched white-knuckle tight in her hair. My eyes were open but I saw only stars.

And then, the beautiful descent, as the pleasure coursed through my veins and I relaxed into limp serenity.

She didn't move. She wasn't clamouring for her own gratification. She just lay there, still fully-clothed, between my languid legs, occasionally kissing the inside of my thigh.

We didn't speak. We just lay there enjoying the intimacy, and the calm of my aftermath, for long priceless moments, then I felt her lips moving across my goose-flesh to softly kiss my pussy lips again. I looked down at her and she smiled. There was a subtle question in her eyes; did I want more?

I nodded, and she began a new, more gentle loving of my pussy. It was completely different; it involved as much kissing as it did licking. She pressed my mons and pulled up, making my inner lips pout, and she kissed them, succulently, as i watched her. I dropped my head back onto the cushion, closed my eyes and just abandoned myself to the resurging pleasure.

She took her time, pacing my growing arousal, and lifted me inexorably to a second peak, which was much less intense but just as gorgeous. It was shivery, shuddery, all trembly little spasms and vaginal clenching. Quite exquisite actually.

I pulled her up for a kiss. A lovely she and me flavoured kiss. I love the combination of her saliva and my pussy. It's so deliciously suggestive of her lust for me. Sharing it with her is just a transcendent feeling for me.

'Come on, I'm taking you to bed,' I said. It's your turn to be spoilt.'

We went up to the bedroom, which I'd forgotten was still set up for my earlier planned wank; lamp on low, folded towel on the bed, and my toys laid out. 'Oo, looks like I got here just in time,' she said.

'Yes, you did, and you have again. Get your arse on that towel.'

She stripped, gleefully, and tossed her knickers to me, saying 'Look what you made.' The gusset was sopping wet and I sucked it into my mouth, making a big show of savouring her sex fluid before taking them out and lewdly licking the wettest part of the fabric.

She climbed onto the bed and lay back on the pillows, with her legs apart, just as I had been when she rang the doorbell. I loved how startlingly erect her nipples were, and how her pubes were visibly wet and glistening with her moisture.

I crawled between her thighs -- those luscious thighs -- and gave each of them a kiss, then said 'Which toy do you want first?'

'Oooo, that clit sucking thing. Let's go quick and dirty to start with...'

I knew the combination of the clit sucker with Licia's propensity for a quick orgasm, was likely to be spectacular, but even I wasn't prepared for HOW spectacular. I lay between her legs and turned the toy on, choosing level three (of 7) which is my personal favourite.

She sighed as I wet the toy's "mouth" in her entrance then placed it carefully over her clit. She jumped a little, then almost immediately said 'Stop! Oh my God what setting is that?'

'Three... out of seven.'

'Christ, what's 7 like?'

'Mental. I never use anything above 4.'

'Try it on 2.'

'I started again, on 2.'

'Ohh fuuck, that's... ooohhh...'

Her head lolled back in a kind of rapture, and I briefly took the toy off, so I could watch her clit twitch, which it did, beautifully. Then I put it back on. Within seconds, she let out an almighty 'Ahhhhhh,' and her arms and legs started thrashing. It was all I could do to keep the toy in place. I was determined though, and I held it there until her 'ahhh' became a banshee wail. I was gazing at her sex, and there was a definite little squirt, or dribble, of white cunt cream as she came. I loved seeing that.

I removed the toy as her thrashing subsided, then I crawled up next to her and waited for her to calm. Eventually, she opened her eyes and said 'Fuck me, that thing's evil. My clit is still buzzing.'

I chuckled. 'It's definitely a sure-fire way to get off. Not my favourite way though.'

She turned towards me and said, 'What's your favourite way?'

'Your tongue.'

She smirked. 'Guess what my favourite way is.'

'Errrmm...'

'YOUR tongue. Fuck, we're so compatible.'

We lay holding hands for a while, then I said 'Have you recovered from the evil clit monster yet?'

'I think so.'

'Do you want some tongue?'

She wriggled luxuriously. 'Mmm, yes please.'

I moved down again and she opened her legs. Her pussy was something to behold. Wet and glistening, with flecks of white juice adorning the hairs on her labia majora. Her flesh an angry shade of dark pink, and her clit almost bluish. Obviously almost bursting with arousal.

Have I ever said how much I love eating pussy? I'm sure I must have. It fills me with a prurient lust like nothing else can. The hot radiant flesh, the oily, slippery lips, the firm engorged clitoris, the pubes against my nose (always better with pubes) the oozing dribbling cream - oh-so sapid and aromatic. And her little moans, as my hungry pleasure intensifies her appetite. My hunger equalling her hunger.

I ate her lovingly to a second, longer, less explosive climax, and she shivered and whimpered adorably as I lapped up her delicious love liquid. God, I was so glad she was here.

It wasn't until the tumultuous sex was over and we lay sated, that we really talked. She'd called me on the Monday night, saying that the virus, or whatever it was, hadn't amounted to much and that she was feeling much better. She said she felt she'd missed an opportunity and that she felt like jumping on a plane so she could come and 'jump my bones.'

I'd told her she was always welcome (of course) and that my bones were always available for her recreation. I wasn't expecting her to actually do it though.

'So, what brought on this mad flying visit?' I asked.

'Well, it's not flying really. I'll stay til weekend, if you'll have me.'

'Well, sudden then... and I'll definitely have you. A few times.'

'She grinned. 'I stayed in bed all morning today, but I felt OK, and I was horny. I was dreaming of you, and then I just decided -- fuck it, I'm going to Chloe's. I managed to get a mid-afternoon flight and, alacazam, here I am.'

I rolled on top of her and kissed her. 'Well I'm bloody glad you did. What a fantastic surprise!'

She smiled happily, then said. 'Have you got a bite to eat Chlo? I'm starving. Haven't eaten since 12...'

'Jeez, yeh, of course. Come on...' We got up, dressed and went down to the kitchen. 'What do you fancy...?' I turned sharply and pointed a finger at her. 'Don't say it...' and she pulled a mock-sulky face. We were getting to know each other really well now.

I started opening and closing all the cupboards and the fridge, flinging out the names of various foodstuffs as encountered them. 'It's not 10 yet, we could still send out for a takeaway.... or there's the chippy. It's open until half past.'

'Ooh, I could murder fish and chips,' she said.

'Come on,' I grabbed my car keys and we headed down to The Hake Boat, in town. We bought cod and chips (well I just had cod, since I'd eaten earlier) and we sat happily eating them in the car, on the car park by the river, watching the street lights making pretty patterns in the flowing water. Then we returned home and crawled into bed, replete and very, very satisfied.

The next three days were a blast. We had plenty of sex, but didn't go completely crazy, did some serious training on the bikes, experimented with making a stew/stoofpot using Guinness (pretty good, actually) and talked for the first time about moving in together permanently.

We agreed that it would make most sense for me to move to Ireland -- or for us both to move to Belgium or Holland -- but I loved my little house in Scotland, and couldn't bear to think of giving it up. We shelved the idea for the time being.

On Friday night, I called Molly and she brought me up to date on everything cycling. She keeps her ear closer to the ground than I do -- I'm a bit of a Dolly Daydream in that respect -- and she has a vast network of contacts. She always knows the latest transfer gossip, who's riding where, and she keeps a huge catalogue of race results in her head. Whenever something happens in a race, she can immediately come up with another time it had happened -- in 2003 or something. Amazing.

Of course, she was quick to point out that Lucy's impressive solo at Gent Wevelgem was almost identical to her victory in 2018, when she'd also attacked on the Kemmelberg and held off her chasers to win by just over a minute. She was still impressed by Lucy's win though, especially her margin of victory (2.42) which was the biggest in the race's history.

Latest news for Sunday was that Suzy was back for Team Amstel-Rabo. That team had been two riders down at Gent-Wevelgem; Suzy, and Pam Clitheroe, who had been back in the US for a wedding. They were thus weakened, but Lucy and Olga had proven a formidable double act, and had pulled off an extraordinary victory. Olga was even in the top 10 as well.

'Suzy must have been watching that at home and thinking "oh crap," said Molly. 'She'll be doubly fired up this weekend to re-establish herself as the team's number 1.'

Hmm, trust Molly to call it perfectly. That's exactly what would be in Suzy's head. Pam too, would be eager to get back into it after a weekend away from the action. Combine that with Lucy and Olga, flushed with success, and Amstel-Rabo were definitely going to be the team to watch on Sunday.

'Licia's here,' I said, she paid me a surprise visit...' We smiled at each other. 'Hope it's OK to bring her again tomorrow.'

'Oh sure... Fanny will be here though, so....'

'Yeah, OK, I understand. Flight gets in at 11. See you at the luchthaven.'

I could almost see her smirking at my crappy attempt at Dutch. 'Yeh, OK, see you there.'

Molly had been a little disappointed that I hadn't stayed with her for the week. There had been a mid-week race on, which started and finished in Waregem (Molly's home town) the Dwars Door Vlaanderen (across, or right through, Flanders). It would have been a nice Idea, but I didn't really fancy doing three pretty long races in a week.

Elisa Abruzzi had won the Dwars, which was a nice compensation for the Gent-Wevelgem, with Tera also on the podium, but they'd surely carry some fatigue from that into this weekend's race. I, on the other hand, was feeling tip top.

***

De Ronde van Vlaanderen.

We emerged into the Brussels arrivals lounge to see Molly and Fanny waiting for us. Molly in her yellow puffer jacket that she looks so good in, and Fanny in a nicely fitted red duffle coat with black buttons. The weather was dry but very cold, so we were also dressed warmly.

Kisses all round, and we headed for Molly's place where, as always, a delicious stoofpot awaited us. We told Molly about our invented English/Irish version using Guinness, and she said 'Mm, sounds interesting. I might give that a try.'

In the afternoon the four of us gathered around the TV to watch some highlights of past Tours of Flanders, and Molly regaled us with tales of her two wins. The footage of her climbing the Koppenberg when she made her winning attack in 2017 was very impressive, and I loved Mark Richard's' commentary on Eurosport: 'There she goes! Nobody can live with Molly Koppen in this mood. Koppen rules the Koppenberg.'

Molly was grinning. I wondered how many times she had watched this, and it still gave her immense pleasure. We watched her cross the finish line, arms aloft, and looking truly "fit as fuck," and I almost had tears in my eyes. I think I had a little bit of hero-worship. I'm so lucky that she's now my coach.

Although there are a number of classics in Belgium, there's no doubt that "De Ronde" is number one. Winning it carries the most prestige, and even finishing in the top 10, as Licia had once done, bestows a certain status. It makes you a true Flandrienne. Despite my podium at the Omloop, I didn't feel I'd earned that title. Yet.

Much later in the evening we were watching something frivolous on TV. Molly and Fanny were sharing a bottle of wine, while Licia and I were abstaining because we were racing the next day. Bizarrely, it felt strange, coming to Molly's and not having sex. It had become such a regular thing.

I assumed she and Fanny would have sex when they went to bed, and I was looking forward to Licia and I doing the same. A foursome was a tempting idea, but I didn't have the temerity to suggest it. I stored it away as something to suggest in the future.

The TV programme ended and we all got up to go to bed. We had an early start in the morning, because Molly was going to drop us in Oudenaarde in time for breakfast, then continue to Ronse to have breakfast with Marianne. All part of their spectating plan.

Licia and I said our goodnights and slipped away into the spare room, with a feeling of lovely anticipation. We stripped down to our knickers and got into bed, then began a lovely smooching session.

As you know by now, Licia's kisses are special. Different to Helen's or Molly's but just as hot and horny, Our hands were soon in the mood for exploring, and they swept over our curves, just enjoying how our bodies felt to the touch. We are young, fit, healthy women. Of course our skin is smooth and gorgeous, and I loved how there was just a tiny bit of "squidge" in her body. A super-thin layer of adipose tissue covering her bones and muscles.

I wriggled down under the covers, kissing her in choice locations as I made my way down; her shoulder, her collarbone, her sideboob, her ribs, her soft, slightly downy stomach, her hip bone. Making her giggle as she knew exactly where I was going...

I savoured the feel of her, the scent of her skin, and the taste of her as I trailed my tongue across her abdomen to the waistband of her knickers.

God, I love a pair of sexy, skimpy knickers. Even in the dim light under the covers I could see the shape and details of them. The little pink bow in the middle of the waistband, the stretchy, sheer material, the subtle lace edging, and the way they bulged slightly over her hairy mons. Gorgeous.

I settled myself between her legs and gave her mons a kiss, then I slipped the index fingers of my hands into each side of her panties and pulled the gusset away from the flesh of her labia. The material glistened with wetness and I nuzzled it, then trailed my tongue lasciviously up and down, savouring her musk.

She gave a little 'ohh' as I sucked her honey from the material, then pushed the gusset into my mouth. I clamped it with my teeth and started pulling, and she lifted her bum so that I could pull her knickers off, reversing down the bed until I emerged from the bottom of the duvet with knickers in mouth. Then I crawled up, flinging the duvet aside, and brought my lips to hers and we shared her moist pants between our mouths, tonguing and sucking on them. So fucking lewd and lovely.

'Oh fuck, I'm so horny now. Let's 69,' she said. Not my favourite, but I do like it with her on top. It's those thighs.

'OK, but you on top.'

I slipped my knickers off, then lay down with a pillow under my head and she straddled me. I felt her arms go round my legs and her hot breath on my pussy, then I abandoned myself to engulfment in her wet flesh.

She settled her vag on my nose, and I found her hot clit with my tongue, and we tongued each other to delicious, steamy orgasms. I thrust my pussy up into her face with lusty hip jerks as I came, and she wriggled her bum from side to side, dribbling her orgasm juice all over me. Maybe 69s aren't so bad after all.

We separated, and I picked up my tee shirt from the floor and used it to wipe my face, ears and neck, then we lay side by side, holding hands. In the sudden quiet, we heard Molly's unmistakeable sexual moans and we looked at each other and smiled.