Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.
*****
When Graham told the local cycling group that he was bringing his granddaughter on their weekly cycle ride, the group all groaned in disappointment.
"Graham!" they all exclaimed. "We ride a long way and fast. The last thing we need is a child slowing us down."
"Don't worry," Graham tried to reassure them all. "She's very fit and she's not a child anymore. She's 18 now and going to university in a few months. Besides, I've promised her."
So on Saturday morning, when the group received a text from Graham to say that he couldn't make it on account of his brother visiting, the group naturally assumed that his granddaughter would skip the days ride too.
The group of four older men had gathered in the car park of the Royal Oak, and were deciding where they should ride to. Harry was the youngest and the only one of the group who was not yet a grandfather. He was the quietest of the group, and the most recent to join. Malcolm, the oldest and loudest, and the self-proclaimed leader of the pack, was explaining the route the would be taking. Brad, a tall, wiry, super-fit type, was chipping in with advice about how hard they could push and on which sections. Rick, a shorter, muscly, power house was observing over Malcolm's shoulder.
They were about to move off, when a young girl on an expensive sportive bike pulled in beside them. She removed her helmet and stared at the four men.
"Bloody hell, it's Hermione Grainger," said Malcolm. The four men started at the young waif, each one agreeing that her appearance was indeed very much like the wee witch from Harry Potter. The girl must have been used to the comparison, as a slight lop-sided but very cute smile crept up the right side of her lips. "You must be Graham's granddaughter, Clara, right?"
The girl nodded.
Harry was stunned. It had been a couple of years since he seen Clara, and he wouldn't have recognised her. She was still a dainty, tiny, slender little thing, with a stunningly pretty face, high cheekbones, pure skin, and deep brown eyes. But gone were the long pigtails and ribbons, and in place was a head of short, cropped shiny chestnut hair, which exposed her pixie-like ears. She was dressed in tight cycling bib-shorts, with the straps looping over her shoulders. Under this was a tiny pink cycling top that covered her shoulders, but stopped way above her exposed belly button, showing off her flat stomach and tiny waist. The shape of her tiny, round, half-tennis-ball breasts were clearly outlined by the pink lycra, that did nothing to conceal two tiny nipples.
"My granddad said I could ride with you," she said innocently.
Harry almost choked on his juice, when he thought she had said: "My granddad said I could ride you." Her innocence was not lost on altogether men either, as Malcolm raised his eyebrows to Brad, and Rick adjusted himself inside his shorts rather indiscreetly.
"Of course you can ride with us, sweetheart," said Malcolm, placing a tender arm around her. "I'm sure you will help us all keep up."
Malcolm led the way, insisting Clara ride alongside, and Brad immediately behind. Rick and Harry tucked in behind them, as they headed up into the hills. Harry was amazed how the young girl kept up with the pace of the four older, more experienced cyclists. They attacked some long ascents which did not appear to phase her at all, and as the morning wore on, it became quite evident that she was more than capable of holding her own.
Harry tucked in behind her, and could not take his eyes off her perfectly round arse. The black lycra covered it perfectly, and Harry imagined how the chamois pad inside her shorts would provide comfort for her pussy lips and asshole, which he could only imagine must be beautifully tight.
The only curiosity about her was her need to stop for pee breaks every hour or so. Every time the group passed a cafe, petrol station, or public toilet, Clara would jump off her bike and dash to the toilet. Harry noticed that she didn't drink much during the ride, an unusual habit as the day was hot with a high sun and no cloud.
By lunchtime, it looked like she was becoming uncomfortable on her bike. Her face was strained, and it looked like she was in pain.
"Whassmatter, sweetie?" asked Malcolm.
"Need to pee," she whispered.
"Again? You already been about five times this morning!"
The group finally stopped at a remote cafe at the top of a steep climb. Clara dropped her bike and dashed into the toilet, returning several moments later.
"Feel better?" asked Malcolm. She nodded. "You know what you need?"
She shook her head. "No?"
"A trap door."
Clara stared at Malcolm for a few moments. "A what?"
"It's a tiny little zip in the back of ladies bibshorts," he explained. "You can unzip it when you need to pee, and then you can go in the bushes, by the road, wherever you like, without having to completely unstrip."
"Err, Malcolm," interjected Harry. "I'm sure the young lady doesn't need you educating her about that sort of thing. You'll just embarrass her."
"No, I won't," said Malcolm. "I'm only helping her. Aren't I?" He nudged Clara playfully, who smiled politely and nodded. "We can stop at the Cycle Shack on the way home. They have some there. I think there will be some in your size. You can try them on."
And so, on their way home, the group stopped at the Cycle Shack, a large cycling store on the edge of town. Malcolm seemed to know exactly where the ladies bib-shorts with the trap door were located, and quickly found Clara a set that he assured her would be a perfect fit.
Naturally, Clara was too shy to try them on, and appeared reluctant to go head with the purchase.
"Don't worry. I know the manager here," said Malcolm. "I've already paid for them. You take them home, try them on, and wear them next week."
"Next week?" exclaimed Harry. Although he had enjoyed watching Clara on her bicycle, and had been convinced that she would not want to continue mixing with a group of men who were old enough to be her granddad.
"Yes, next week," replied Malcolm. "Clara wants to ride with us again next week, don't you Clara?" The young girl nodded. "Then you'll have to wear these for sure. The route we're taking next week has no toilets at all, so you'll need to go in the bushes and places."
Much to Harry's surprise, Clara turned up at the Royal Oak car park the following week. And, just as Malcolm had insisted, she was wearing her new bib-shorts. They were white, very short, and extremely tight, with hardly any padding. The tiny zip was just visible, running up the side of her thigh, across the small of her back, and down the other leg. Much to the disappointment of all the men, Clara was not wearing her tiny pink cropped cycling top, but instead had ditched it for a light blue long-sleeved cycling jersey, that covered everything else.
"I think you'll be far too hot today in that," commented Malcolm about her top.
"I, err...had to wear something, as the...err...straps on my new bib-shorts aren't really very wide," she said nervously.
"Nonsense," said Malcolm determinedly. "These bib-shorts were designed for girls to wear them on their own, you know."
But he didn't push this any further, although Harry was almost sure he heard Malcolm tel Brad, "I'll get her out of that top, don't you worry."
As usual, Malcolm led the ride out of town, and up into the hills. The sun beat down on them, and they pushed hard, riding higher and higher.
They stopped every hour or so to allow Clara to pee behind a hedge or tree. Harry noticed that Malcolm too was disappearing to pee from time to time as well.
"Keep drinking, sweetie," said Malcolm, handing Clara her drinks bottle. "You really must keep hydrated in this heat. And remember, you can stop to pee anytime, ok?"
About an hour from their lunch stop, the group stopped for a final time. Clara went off to take a pee, and Harry decided he would do the same, and found a quiet spot behind a bush. He finished his leak, and headed back to the bikes, to find the three men gathered around Malcolm's phone, sniggering.
"What's up?" asked Harry?
"Come take a look what Mac's filmed," said Brad, beckoning Harry over. What Harry saw on Malcolm's phone made his jaw drop and his dick stand on its end. Clara had walked into a field and stood facing a stone wall, away from the cameraphone. Harry watched the screen as she delicately unzipped the trapdoor on her bib-shorts, and let it fall down to reveal a simply beautiful round pair of peaches. She squatted, and reached down through her legs and pulled the flap of lycra forward so it wouldn't get wet. There was the briefest of pauses, before she let flow with a golden stream of pee. The jet was forced out and the sound of it hitting the grass was picked up by the phone's microphone. Once she has finished, she stood, zipped up, and walked out of shot. Malcolm clicked on another video file, this time taken behind a bush, and looking up a grassy slope to where Clara was already squatting and peeing. The camera zoomed in, and from the angle could be seen the outline of two slender lips.
"Shit!" exclaimed Rick. "Are those pubes I can see? And look at her arse!"
Harry agreed. Her round, slender bottom was approaching perfection, and he wondered how many lucky guys were going to feel its smoothness when she was at University.
"What you looking at?" It was Clara, who had just appeared from behind a fence where she had been conducting her toilet, for once without being filmed by Malcolm.
"Just some real good porn," said Brad.
Clara stopped in her tracks, stunned, and walked over to her bike, putting on her helmet.
"You dickhead," Harry hissed at Brad.
