Riding with Dirty Girls

This story 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. At the same time, they are all over 18...

Unlike previous series' of mine, each part of this one can probably be read as a stand-alone story, once you have read the Prologue (Part 1).

***

Riding With Dirty Girls.

4. Troyes

'Were you serious, in the showers in Brussels, when you said you liked it when I peed?'

This was Maisie at her most direct. The question was disconcerting, but there was nowhere to hide. I had to answer.

I temporised... 'Errrm... I did say that, didn't I?'

'Yes you did. Well?'

'Er, I liked what was happening... Let's face it, I was as horny as fuck... I enjoyed your orgasm, and I liked all the wetness... the shower water, your slippery juice... the pee was just an unexpected extra. In that situation I suppose I did like it. It wasn't unpleasant, and you must have been having a really good O for that to happen accidentally. I liked that as well.'

Maisie had called me mid-week, for a chat - and probably more -- and we'd gone almost straight into this slightly discomfiting discussion. The peegasm (as she called it) in Brussels had obviously fascinated her.

'Hmm. I've been experimenting... mostly in the shower, but I did it once in the kitchen over a bowl, just to see how much came out, and it was..a lot!'

'Tell me about it,' I laughed, 'I've experienced it''

'It's really easy to do. You just hold it until you are starting to come, then just let it go. I didn't realise how much I'd been holding back. It makes an orgasm better. It feels like a much bigger release -- if that's not too obvious.

She went on, 'I read that when women "squirt," what we release is mostly pee, but not completely. Part of it is a sexual fluid from the skene glands, or something. It doesn't taste the same -- I've tried both."

'Jeez Maisie, you're really getting into this, aren't you? It's dead kinky, this. You know that, right?'

'Yeah, I guess so...'

'I think it might have happened to me once, by accident,' I said, but I've never tried doing it deliberately.'

'You should. It's fun. Maybe we should try it together -- again - sometime?' she said, suggestively.

I wasn't sure about that suggestion. It sounded too much like "watersports" to me, and that's not really a kink of mine.

'Not sure I'd be into watersports, Maisie. I've never fancied it.'

'Hm, OK. I might sound out some of the other girls. See if anyone's up for it. I wanna give it a try,' she said, breezily, like we were discussing a new recipe or something.

I was happy to veer away from the subject to talk about other things, like the upcoming race in France, but in so doing, I had moved us away from the phone sex I thought was going to happen. I think my demurral on the pee sex thing had just changed the dynamic of the conversation, and we never went back to where we were. Shame. I quite fancied a bit of phone sex.

The idea of deliberately cultivating a peegasm was intriguing though, and after we ended the call I thought I might try it.

My orgasm would have to be in the bathroom, I decided that, but that didn't mean I couldn't take time to get most of the way there in the comfort of my bed.

There would definitely be wetness well before I reached my climax, that was always the case, so I spread a towel, as usual, then sat on it and lay back against the pillows with my legs wide apart. These pre-wank moments are quite special. I love the anticipation, and the lewd feeling of just decadently getting ready to pleasure myself.

Two toys were at the ready - a ribbed vibrator, and a clit stimulator -- just in case I needed a little help, but I rarely do. I orgasm so easily, my fingers are usually all I need. If I'm lucky enough to have the attentions of a feminine tongue as well it becomes explosive.

I slid my hands slowly along the insides of my thighs, feeling the strong but subtle muscles under my skin, and moved them slowly up to my pussy. My outer lips are full and fleshy, and I just pressed my fingers into their softness, while fondling my pubes with my thumbs. I teased them apart, just slightly and briefly, then pressed them together again, squeezing my peeping inner lips between them.

A delectable tingly ache deep inside me told me my juice machine was stirring, and I wiggled a finger gently between my labia to feel the wetness of my entrance. It was warm and slippery and I trailed the finger up, parting my little flaps, until I could anoint my clit with that bewitching balm.

My inner petals felt gorgeous as I spread my juice over them - deliciously squirmy and supple -- and I imagined sucking them into my mouth, as I had done with many others. I salivated at the thought. I could almost taste them. In fact, I could taste them, and I did so - trailing my wet fingers lasciviously across my mouth. Mmm.

I closed my eyes and went into a kind of reverie. As my fingers thoroughly explored every fold and feature of my sex, I thought about Molly's lush bush, and her fleshy lips on my tongue, I thought about Helen's thewy thighs squeezing my head until I squealed, I thought about Annike's fervid, almost reverential eating of my pussy, and I thought about naughty, naughty Masie and the taste of her peegasm as it flooded my mouth.

Fuck, I was close... but as the orgasmic rush gathered momentum, I stopped and just held myself there. One finger just dancing deftly on my clit. Dabbing it softly and extending my pre-orgasmic ache. I love that feeling...

It was time... I'd deliberately avoided having a pee earlier, so my bladder was full -- it makes a better orgasm anyway -- and I sauntered into the bathroom, still gently playing with myself with one hand to keep myself close to the edge, and carrying the vibrator in the other. I felt so deliciously bad and salacious.

Sitting on the edge of the bath, I turned the vibe on, and touched the tip of it to my already twitchy little button. FUCK, that's too much. I moved it up to the less sensitive flesh of my clit hood, and let it stimulate my clit by transmitted vibrations. That was plenty, and in seconds I felt the thrill of my orgasm rushing up on me again. I threw my head back. Here it comes...

Ohhhhhhh fffuuuuuuck!

I just relaxed my pelvic floor completely and let EVERYTHING go into the bath splattering the sides and forming a river to the plughole. A surprisingly clear river. I was prepared with a glass to collect some of the flood, but I fumbled and dropped the vibe in the river. Good job it's waterproof.

I wanted to collect some so I could taste it, to see if what Maisie had said was true, and I did manage to capture a glassful, despite my orgasmic lack of co-ordination.

Once some semblance of controI had returned, I peered at the glass of liquid I'd collected. It didn't look like pee. It was almost clear, with a slight greyness to it. I didn't really fancy drinking it - not chugging it all down anyway - but I did take a little sip, swallowed it, and licked my lips. Mm, not too bad really. It did taste a little pissy, but there was an oiliness to it. In fact, it tasted like a mixture of pee and orgasm juice, which makes sense because that's undoubtedly what it was.

So, experiment over. Interesting, but I don't see it becoming a regular part of my sex life, which is messy enough as it is. I poured the rest of the 'gasm juice into the bath and rinsed it away, then I got into the shower.

***

On the Sunday, I decided to go for the club ride with my cycling club, Penicouls CC. Molly had okayed me doing one of these per month, and this was it for November.

I rode down into the middle of town on a wintry morning with rain showers, and met up with the club outside the Woolly Sheep Cafe. As usual, I got a warm welcome from the girls and the older guys, who have no competitive ambitions against me, and a more frosty one from some of the younger guys, who knew their bubble of perceived prowess was about to be popped. Again.

Melvyn, who was leading the ride, hugged me warmly, his scratchy beard rubbing my cheek, and I also got a squeeze from Brenda and Libby, who were the only other women on the ride.

'Awesome ride last week Chloe,' said Brenda, 'I was screaming at the telly at the end there. So unlucky that puncture.'

'Aye, but what a fight back,' chuckled Mel, 'That was pure dead brilliant.'

Even Stuart, the self-styled cock of the club, was impressed. 'Yeah it was some chase that Chloe. Nice one.'

I felt pleased and gratified to get their approval. It had been an epic.

There were 8 of us in total, and Mel led us off, on a route that he said was 'a good 80 miles.' It would take us over two of the most famous local climbs, one each side of our cafe stop in Moffat. The first was up to a huge natural hollow in the hills, called The Devil's Beef Tub, and the second was known in the club as Tibbie Shiels, after the pub that is located just beyond the top of the pass.

Stuart couldn't resist reminding everyone that he held the "KOM" (king of the mountain) for both of these on Strava which, for those who don't know, is an online platform where people record their rides and challenges by GPS. Fastest time up a climb gets you the KOM -- or QOM if you happen to be female. I don't do Strava. Don't need Strava. I get my recognition in real competition.

We rode out through the lonely hills for about 25 miles, staying in the valley bottoms, then the climb started. As soon as we passed the perceived starting point, Stuart went to the front and started winding up the pace, taking Iain with him. I was chatting pleasantly with Brenda at the back of the group, when Mel looked back at us and said 'Hey, I think a gauntlet is being thrown down.' He nodded forwards towards the rapidly receding Stuart and Iain.

Now, I don't suffer from the testosterone poisoning that Stuart does, but I can't resist a gauntlet. Plus, I like popping bubbles.

I upped the pace, Brenda came with me, and we started making inroads into Stuart and Iain's lead. I saw them looking back a couple of times, so they knew we were in pursuit, but we still kept gaining. I was going hard, but still under my threshold. It seemed to be enough.

About halfway up the ascent, Iain was dropped, and started rapidly drifting back to us. We overtook him without a word and continued our pursuit of Stuart. I was amazed that Brenda was still glued to my back wheel as we continued to reel him in. She really is remarkable for a non-pro, and definitely one of the fastest riders in the club, male or female. She could definitely turn pro if she wanted to, but she prefers to continue her career as a vet.

The top of the pass was in sight now, and I felt the need to step up the pace a little more, if I was to catch him by the summit. I was on the edge of the threshold now, and Brenda finally cracked. Stuart was within reach, and I bore down on him with my determined head on.

I caught him 200 metres from the top, and went right to the opposite side of the empty road, so as not to offer him a wheel to suck. Then I stood up and sprinted past. He didn't even try to go with me.

I eased off over the crest and he came past, shaking his head ruefully. I waited until I was joined by a grinning Brenda, then Iain, and we coasted slowly down towards Moffat until the others caught us up. 'Did you do him?' Mel asked.

'Och aye,' I said with a grin, pretending to be Scottish.

Coffee and cake in the stylish Cafe Ariete in Moffat was just what the doctor ordered, and we then set off on the second leg of the ride, over Tibbie Shiels. The pattern almost repeated itself on this climb. Stuart had already been put to the sword once, but he seemed to want more. So, I gave him some. This time I caught him even earlier, and I let him take my wheel for a little while. He probably fancied his chances of out-sprinting me at the top, but I wound the pace up gradually until he couldn't hang on. I didn't see it happen, and I was surprised when I found myself alone and I looked back to see him "grovelling" up the last metres, weaving from side to side. King of the mountains gives way to the Queen.

***

Fanny at Molly's

I felt very fit as I started my taper towards the Troyes race weekend, and very horny, which I always think is a good sign. On the Wednesday afternoon, I had a most delicious wank.

It was a sunny day and I did it in the conservatory, reclined on my Vesgantti chaise longue, with the sun streaming in and caressing my naked body, teasing my lips apart to expose my flesh to the warm rays. Pure unadulterated luxury, and quite an image... I would imagine.

On Thursday, I flew to Brussels. Why? Well, Troyes is a bit awkward to get to from Edinburgh. You have fly to Paris then take a 2-hour train ride, so my plan was to go to Molly's, then travel with the crew by car on Friday -- about a 4-hour drive.

Molly and Fanny picked me up at the airport, and we drove back to Molly's place at Waregem. On the way there, Molly made my mouth water. 'We have a stoofpot waiting at home.'

'Oo, great. Is it the one made with gueuze?'

'Yes it is.'

'Yummeee,' I cried, clapping my hands with glee, and Fanny and Molly just grinned at each other.

Molly's rabbit stew, cooked in the local lambic beer, and served with mashed potato, is nothing less than spectacular on a cold Flemish evening. I'd say it was better than sex, if not for the fact that sex is the very best thing on the planet.

We sat at Molly's kitchen table enjoying a gastronomic glory, and we talked a bit about training and racing (I told them about Stuart and the club ride and they chuckled) and then a bit about their relationship.

They'd been kind of 'loosely together' (Molly's words) for a number of years, but they were not exclusive. 'We love each other, but we couldn't live in each other's pockets,' said Fanny. 'Our arrangement works well for us, and I know you've had the benefit of it, haven't you, Chloe?'

I looked at Molly and smiled as I said 'Yes... I have.'

There was no awkwardness here. It was all open and above board. A very healthy situation, I think.

'You do have a physical relationship though, don't you?' I probed.

'Oh, yes we do, of course, but Molly's needs are greater than mine. It's fine. I like her to have pleasure.' They smiled at each other. It was very sweet, and somehow, it made me a little horny.

We retired to the lounge, and they sat together on the sofa, while I sat opposite them in an armchair. The TV was on, but we weren't paying it any attention. We talked more and more about sex, about our histories, about our likes and dislikes, and about our libidos.

I told them about Maisie's peegasm, and about my experiment, and they seemed interested and not as all disconcerted by any of it. 'Oh, I think that happens to a lot of women,' was the only comment. Wow. Does it??

'Fanny needs a lot of warming up chuckled Molly. She likes to talk about sex for like at least an HOUR before she starts getting hot.

Fanny frowned. 'I get turned on quite quickly talking to Chloe about it though...' Touché.

There was a great dynamic between them. They were teasing each other, but there were no barbs in any of it. Just am engaging sexual playfulness. I sensed a rising tension in the air. A nice tension, not a dark one.

Molly got up and went to a thermostat on the wall, saying 'I'm turning the heating up,' then she looked at us both with a delightful coquettishness... 'No reason...'

Fanny looked at me and said 'Have you ever had a threesome, Chloe?'

My heart rate jumped about 20 beats per minute. 'Er... No, I haven't.'

'Would you like to try it?'

'Ah, yes. Yes I would.' My legs were trembling. They were very deliberately drawing me into a lesbian troika with them. Molly had never so much as hinted that this was a possibility, but now that it clearly was, I was flushed with excitement. The siren call had been sounded and the ever-ready juice machine had sprung into life. We were really going to do it.

'Are you sure?' said Molly, as she always does.

'Oh, yes. Absolutely.'

'OK. Fanny wants to watch us together, then join in when she feels ready,' said Molly. They had obviously talked about this - pre-planned it -- and that only made it even more exciting. Spontaneous is lovely, but there is something about premeditated sex that is just so damn horny.

I decided there was no point in beating about the bush, and I stood up and started undressing. I deliberately stood close in front of them and I stripped, very slowly, and as provocatively as I could, which was probably not very, given what I was wearing; tee shirt, thin fleece, jeans, and chucka boots. Hey, I'm a cyclist, not a stripper.

They seemed to like it though, and they didn't move. They just sat and watched me appreciatively, both occasionally glancing at each other, until I was down to my knickers. At least I had nice knickers on; black and sheer, with subtle lace trim, and I paused to let them look for a moment, turning round to show off my shapely buns. 'Mm, nice panties Chloe,' said Molly, then she reached out and started pulling them down.

I stood there with my back to her and let her take my knicks down to the floor, then I stepped out of them and turned around. Totally stark naked. 'OK, you've had your strip show. Now it's my turn.' I squeezed myself in between them on the sofa and they both got up. Now, the tables were turned.

'Undress each other,' I ordered, and they began, taking turns to take off one garment at a time. My fingers, almost involuntarily, slipped between my legs, which were carelessly apart. My nipples were bullet hard, partly due to my arousal, and partly because the room was not yet quite warm enough.

It was beautiful and exciting to watch them slowly reveal their bodies to me, bit by bit. Molly's body is very familiar, and I've already described it as being like a marble statue. She's incredibly lean and toned, and her contours are defined and exquisite. It's quite breathtaking. I was pleased to see her bush was just as lush as ever.

Fanny though, was new and fascinating, and she was also quite lovely. I've already described her piercing blue eyes and her short but unruly jumble of curls, and the fact that she's good looking. Her face is slim and fine-boned, with a long straight nose and a dainty chin, and her neck is long and slender.

I'd guess her height somewhere between Molly and me -- say 170cm (5'7") -- and she's more shapely, with larger breasts, and a little womanly swell of tummy. Her pubes are well-trimmed, and her big fleshy inner lips are rude and startling, hanging noticeably below her outer ones. She's not as athletic as Molly, and has a few wrinkles here and there, but for a woman somewhere in her 40s she's quite stunning really. I remember thinking, I hope I still look that good 20 years from now.

They stood and faced me, with their arms around each other's waists, as if waiting for my reaction, and I lay there, still idly playing with my pussy, and just said 'Gorgeous.'

Fanny sat in the armchair, with one leg draped lewdly over the arm, and Molly stood with hands on hips and said, 'What am I going to do with you?'

I struck an affected pose with my arms draped across the backrest of the sofa, and said, in a breathy, swoony voice, 'Anything you like...'

She grabbed a couple of cushions from the corner of the sofa to kneel on, then she got on her knees and curled her strong arms around my legs and yanked me forward so my bum was hanging off the edge of the couch, bringing a little 'oo' of surprise from me.

She gazed at my pussy, and spread it with her fingers, deftly stroking my petals this way and that, and deliberately skimming the undersides of her fingers across my clit. My juice was already dribbling out of me, and she gathered some on her fingertips and smeared it all over my flesh, making it glisten.