Riding With Dirty Girls Pt 11

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.

***

Riding With Dirty Girls.

11. Benidorm.

I gazed out of the window as the plane carried me up the east coast of England towards Edinburgh and home. The green and pleasant English countryside was unclear below. Nebulous under misty vapours. A bit like my thoughts.

I'd woken that morning in Lucy's bed, and turned to see her gazing at me. She smiled. 'Morning.' Oh, so beautiful.

'You look lovely, sleeping,' she said, pensively. So very innocent. No hint of the fire inside. The flame of passion.'

I chuckled. 'You're going all poetic on me, Lucy.'

'Mm. That's how I feel. Inspired. You've given me so much, Chloe. More than you can know. You've opened my eyes. Drawn back the curtain on a new world. Banished so many fears and doubts. Made me feel... wonderful.'

'Steady on Lucy, you make me sound like the bloody lesbian messiah or something.'

She laughed. ''Well that's what you are, to me. You freed me.'

'Freed you?' I felt mischievous. 'So, do you regard yourself as one of the free girls now?'

Free girls?' She looked a little perplexed. The term obviously wasn't familiar to her.

'Yes, like me. Like Carmen, Helen, Annike, Mari...'

'Ohh, the free girls... Yes, a FREE girl! She flung the covers back, revealing her ravishing nakedness. 'I'm freee, I'm freee, I'm a free girl.'

She rolled on top of me and kissed me madly, over and over, holding my face in her hands, then rolled off and flopped on her back, looking at the ceiling. 'Do you all have sex with each other? All of you?'

'Well, it's not quite like that, but it's pretty fluid. It's free. I can tell you that there would be some very excited girls if they thought you were joining our little band.'

I could see her mentally thinking of all the free girls, like a kid perusing the goodies in a sweet shop. 'Mm, I like this. Now I have embraced it, I want to explore it.'

I chuckled indulgently. Her joyful excitement was infectious, and I could imagine the warm welcome she'd get when she made it known she was after "a piece of the action," so to speak.

I was suddenly ravenously hungry... 'Anyway, is there any chance of some breakfast at this joint?'

She jumped astride me again, and put her hands rudely on my tits, then leaned forward and devilishly said 'I could give you something you'd like to eat.'...OMG, I was so ready for that, but she jumped off the bed and grabbed a dressing gown. 'Come on, let's cook, I'm hungry too.'

The change in her was extraordinary. I'd never seen her so joyful, and it was all down to me. Well, I was taking the credit for it anyway.

I put on my tee shirt and knickers, and we went down to the kitchen, where she showed me how to make something she called "wentelteefjes" (she had to write it down for me). It's a Dutch breakfast speciality, similar to French toast, consisting of bread slices dipped in a mixture of milk, eggs, and cinnamon, but then baked with butter in the oven until they turn crispy -- a bit like bread and butter pudding - then drizzled with honey. Absolutely fantastic.

When we finished cooking and eating, she asked me what time my flight was. 'Not until 4 o'clock.'

She looked at me mischievously over her coffee cup. 'So we have time to go back to bed.'

'Yes we do,' I grinned. So we did.

...

As I sat, gazing out of the plane window, I thought about how wonderful it was. She was a different creature. All doubt and caution flung to the wind, her sexual imp was unleashed. She wanted to queen me (oh, go on then...) she wanted rub her nipples against my clit (oh, if you must...) and she wanted to try scissoring, which was a new experience for me.

It was an hour or two of sheer delight, for both of us, but now, in the cold light of the English sky, I had mixed feelings. On one hand it was great to see the way she came out so joyfully - and when I left she seemed happier than I'd ever seen her -- but there was just a little bit of disappointment that romance between us didn't bloom.

I suppose part of me -- the romantic part -- wanted Lucy to be something more. I wanted my heart to melt at her mere touch. I wanted to see stars. To feel the magic that people in love talk about. I guess I was seduced by the IDEA of being in love with Lucy. But no, it wasn't to be.

What happened between us was great, and I was so very happy for her, but my starry-eyed vision of her had evaporated. Replaced by the real Lucy. Still beautiful and gorgeous, but no longer the mythical Lucy I'd made in my head. It left me just a little unsettled.

Before I drove away from the airport, I remembered to turn the heating on at home, and I looked on "cyclocross24.com" for the result of the British Championship race. To my delight, Licia had retained the title, but it was only by a single second from Nikki Cray, who must've ridden absolutely out of her skin to be that close to Licia. I'd get the full story later.

Half an hour later, I was letting myself into my house, which was warming up nicely. It was still empty though. I put the lamps on, and put a playlist on the speaker. Quite often when I return home from a race, I will look up highlights on YouTube, but there was no point in looking for Licia's race because I knew there had been no TV coverage of it. The national championships. Can you believe it? Scandalous if you ask me.

I decided to eat before I called Licia. I hadn't eaten anything since the wentelteefjes at breakfast - unless you count Lucy's pussy - and I was ravenous. I cooked up an enormous pasta concoction with cheese and bacon, and finally made it to the sofa, replete, at about 8pm. It was high time I called Licia.

She picked up, bright and breezy; 'Hey babe, how's it goin?' Oh, it was so good to hear her voice.

'Hiya, pretty good, apart from being a bit knackered. Congrats on retaining the title. Tight finish though, eh?'

'Oh God. I don't know how I managed it. It was a comedy of errors.'

'Why, what happened?'

'Well, after one lap, I had the lead and everything under control, but then a piece of cord for tying an advertising banner up got caught in my chain and it took ages to release it. Put me back to about 15th place. Took me two laps eyeballs out to get back to the front group.'

'Oh cripes...'

'That was only the start though. At the end of lap 3 I went into the pits for a bike change and something distracted me. I jumped off, went to grab the clean bike and missed, just as Dave let go of it, then I tripped over it and did a full face-plant in the mud.'

'Fuckin hell.' I was shaking my head.

'Yeh, so there I am trying to chase back again with a full Flandrian Facial...' (a face completely covered in mud) '...and I got my front wheel in an awkward rut and -- splat - I'm down again.'

'Jeezus.'

'It's not over yet... I've been practicing riding over the pesky plank barriers, instead of carrying. It's worth a second or two. Well, I'd done it each lap OK, but I was getting tired. On lap 4 I wasn't strong enough for the bunny hop. I caught my back wheel on the barrier and - whoop -- straight over the bars.'

I was laughing now. 'This is MAD. And you still won!'

She was also laughing now. 'I know... I jumped up, covered from head to toe in slutch...' (a Yorkshire word for mud) '...and set off again. I got past everybody except Nikki and I didn't think I could catch her, but then it was her turn to do some mud-diving. She crashed on an off-camber corner and her legs went under the barrier. She got back out pretty rapidly, but it allowed me to catch her up, and we ended up coming into the finishing straight together. I was fuckin shagged out by now but, somehow, I managed to outsprint her. Craziest. Race. Ever.'

'Oh my God, I wish it had been televised.'

'Yeh, great entertainment value, eh?..HA!'

'Yeh, the TV companies missed out there.'

'Eurosport did interview me straight after the finish, but you'll hardly recognise me... complete mudpack. All I needed were some cucumber slices on my eyes.'

'Oh, God,' I cackled. 'I'll have to look that up '

'Anyway, how was your training camp?'

'Oh it was great. Weather was a bit shit, but we had some great rides, and the hotel was brilliant. In fact, Oudenaarde is a top place.'

'Yeh, I've had some good times there.'

'Oh of course, I forgot, you've done some of those classics, haven't you?'

'Yep, top 10 at De Ronde once.'

'Were you?? Woow...' I was humbled. De Ronde (the Tour of Flanders) is one of the biggest and most prestigious classics on the calendar, and considered one of the "monuments" of cycling. I felt it was a little shabby that I wasn't more familiar with this part of her palmares.

I realised that I hadn't taken enough interest in her cycling background, and I got her to tell me more. We spent the best part of an hour talking about it, and I realised that Licia was actually much more of a rounded cyclist than I was.

This conversation did more than any of Molly's urging to convince me that I had to do the classics.

'Oh God, Chloe. You're made for them. If you love 'cross, you'll adore them.'

'OK, I'm sold. I'll do a couple this spring.'

When we ended the call, I had a sudden longing for her. I wanted her there with me, and I wanted to tell her. I followed up the call with a simple text; 'Wish you were here'

She replied immediately; 'Wish you were here' with a kiss.

I replied with just a kiss.

I sat staring into space and thinking about Licia, and Lucy. Both these women had moved me. Shaken my blithe and nonchalant attitude to sex and relationships. Even though I had a strong affection, even a kind of love, for Maisie, Molly, Helen...and others, I'd been able to keep my relationships with them at a certain level -- or in a certain compartment. Yes, there was a kind of love, and we had lots of sex, but they were insouciant relationships. I never thought of them as anything else.

Not so with Lucy and Licia though.

Lucy had wowed me with her sheer beauty, and I think I was seduced by the fact that she'd been straight and therefore unattainable, and then suddenly she wasn't. That encounter in the shower in Troyes was electrifying, and it shook me to my core, maybe because it was so unexpected.

It was a purely sexual thing - a rush of luscious lust -- but in the days that followed, something else developed. An infatuation. Enchantment, even. I was enraptured by her beauty, and enamoured with the idea that she could be mine.

Engaging her in phone sex, and engineering a visit to her house, just to have sex with her, were my unsubtle and unconventional seduction techniques, but Lucy was seeing the situation quite differently.

She, for whatever reason, had become lez-curious. She had new feelings that she wanted to explore, and the fact that she homed in on me was probably more to do with the fact that I was proximate and available, than any strong attraction. I mean, I'm sure she found me attractive at some level, but in a different situation, it could probably have been any one of the other free girls.

Once she'd broken through the taboo, her horizons suddenly widened far beyond just me, and I didn't blame her. I'd have been the same in her shoes.

My connection with Licia was something completely different. Since we got together for the first time -- gosh, just 7 weeks before -- our bond had progressed super-fast. Right from that first encounter at her house we clicked, and we had only become closer and closer ever since.

Licia is not beautiful like Lucy, and she's short and quite muscular, so she doesn't have Lucy's slender elegance, but there's a cuteness to her -- I love her nose wrinkling grin -- and she has those luscious thighs. Always a weakness of mine.

The truth is, though, our connection had almost immediately reached the point where physical comparisons became irrelevant. I was engaged by her personality. Her joie de vivre... Quite quickly, I thought EVERYTHING about her was lovely.

Her persona is one of openness and heart-on-sleeve honesty, but I did have a sense that she was a little guarded where her feelings for me were concerned. Like she was just holding back a little. I suspected her feelings were stronger than she let on, and that was a bit scary to me. I mean, I've never had anyone declare undying love for me, and I don't know what I'd do if they did. Run away screaming, probably.

I'd glimpsed being a couple with Licia, though, and I guess I'd dreamed of it with Lucy, to some extent, but I really couldn't imagine giving up my hedonistic whirl of casual sexual pleasures. It was a conundrum to wrestle with. It was time for bed.

***

All that week, I was oddly subdued and introspective. I spoke to Maisie, and to Licia again, but I was lacking my usual sparkle. I even cut a planned training ride short because I was so unmotivated. I also went 4 days without an orgasm -- a thing almost unheard of.

On the Friday morning I finally woke up horny. I went to get a towel from the bathroom and rummaged in my bedside cabinet for toys. Then I settled back against my pillows for what I intended to be a quick and dirty wank.

Sometimes, my wank sessions can last for hours, but I had a plane to catch later that day so I didn't have limitless time. I selected a favourite vibrator that had a ring moulded into the end of it, which made it easy to pull out (and push back in) when you have it in really deep and it's all slippery. It also had really great vibration patterns, which never fail to make me come all over the place.

As if to make REALLY sure of shattering orgasms, I also got out my clit sucker toy -- another guaranteed come-maker. The two of them together promised to be spectacular.

They were, too. I licked the tip of the vibe to wet it, then played it around my clit until I was nice and juicy, then slipped it inside, slowly easing it deeper and deeper until only the moulded ring was visible. I had it set on my favourite "pulse-pulse-buzzzzzz-pulse-pulse" setting and it started working its magic immediately.

That vibe setting does something special to my vaginal muscles, and within seconds they started their involuntary squeezing; pulse-pulse-buzzzzzz -- SQUEEZE -- pulse-pulse... Heavenly.

Just lying there with the vibe inside me, doing it's stuff, would have definitely made me come pretty rapidly, but I wanted something spectacular. I wanted to really max out the orgasmic intensity, So, I picked up the clit sucker, licked around its little "mouth" to ensure a good seal, then carefully placed it over my clit.

That thing has 7 settings, but I never use the higher ones. They produce a rapid paroxysm, which I guess is technically an orgasm, but it's so quick and violent that a lot of the pleasure is lost, I think. I put it on the second setting and held it firmly in place, then just waited for the fireworks to start.

Almost immediately, all the thousands of nerve-endings in my clit and my g- spot went into wild overdrive. OMG. Stimulation overload. Within a minute I was overwhelmed. Swallowed up by a maelstrom of an orgasm. It seemed like every muscle in my pelvis and abdomen went into spasm as the climax tore through me, and I immediately removed the clit toy as it was just TOO intense.

The vibe remained, unrelentingly doing its pulse-pulse-buzzzzz thing, and my pussy went SQUEEZE...... SQUEEZE..... SQUEEEEZE in its involuntary response.

The pleasure peaked, plateaued, then started to subside, and I tried desperately to hang onto the bliss for as long as possible. I brought the clit sucker back and managed to give myself an exquisite second peak. A soaring arc of pleasure. I wanted to live in this sensual paradise indefinitely. But Shangri-la ultimately faded from view, and I pulled the vibe out to give my poor pussy some respite.

It was covered in my slick, creamy come, and I licked and sucked it clean. Salaciously relishing the taste and texture of my sex fluid, which was like nectar at that moment.

I sighed and savoured the glowy aftermath. Even the damp, squishy feeling under my bum cheeks felt divine. What a wise precaution the towel was.

This pleasant limbo lasted for some time, and I may have dozed, briefly, but then my libido re-engaged and my pussy whispered 'fuck me again.' I looked at the time, then picked up the toys. I still had time for seconds...

***

Round 9: Benidorm

Two warm, dry races on the Iberian peninsula in succession? Some might say cyclocross was going soft, but I wasn't complaining, and I reflected that Licia would probably welcome Benidorm, after her mudfest at Kendal.

Benidorm is almost as far from Waregem as Porto is, but Molly had decided she was driving there in the Lyonmobile this time, Joss having other commitments which prevented him from coming to the rescue this time.

However, she had placated Fanny and Marianne with overnight stops in Paris, and Narbonne, meaning a departure on Wednesday afternoon. It would be a great road trip and I was (almost) envious.

I drove up to Edinburgh Airport for my Friday afternoon flight and, as I walked to check-in, I got a text from Molly telling me they were already waiting for me in Alicante and that 'The sunshine is unbearable. Ha!'

I've travelled to and through Edinburgh Airport countless times, and usually on my own. It's my regular precursor to any race. This time, it felt weirdly different though, and that was because, the previous time, I was with Licia. Strange how doing it with her, just once, made doing it on my own feel suddenly odd.

On the plane, I had a window seat again, but I was sat next to a guy wearing way too much cologne. I mean, I know you're probably smelly mate, but come on... I turned and gazed out of the window.

I thought again of Licia, and of Lucy, both of whom had gained huge prominence in my psyche at that point. I found myself musing about them a lot.

Lucy, despite her obvious intention to embrace the free girls, was still a seductive presence in my thoughts, and part of me still wondered whether I could woo her to me and me alone. She was obviously attracted to me to some extent, and I wondered how much power that gave me.

Meanwhile Licia and I were only a small step from being a real, bona fide couple. We had lived together, briefly, twice. We had spent all day in bed together. We had ridden our bikes together, been out drinking together. We called each other 'babe'... OMG we were a hairsbreadth away.

I also knew that Licia was mad about me but was holding back for some reason. I suspected it would only take a nudge from me though.

One persistent thought that kept coming back and filling me with doubt and dismay was the probability that, if I did form a permanent relationship, if I did become half of a couple, it would mean the end of my libertine membership of the lesbian love club, and that was something I didn't want to contemplate.

By the time we landed I'd decided I wasn't going to do that. I was a free girl. I loved being a free girl and I was determined to continue being one. To wring every drop of wanton pleasure out of it.

I exited into the arrivals hall at Alicante and looked for Molly and co. There they were, waiting for me, all looking gorgeous in summery clothes, with their cool shades on. They stood out in a crowd of (to me) relatively dull people, and I felt a little thrill go through me as I embraced and kissed each of them. I was so proud of them. They were more than my crew, they were like family.

We set off to drive to Benidorm, which was about 40 minutes away. Even at almost 5pm it was still 17 degrees C and as we left the airport the low sun was dazzling.