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Cycling Ch. 01

By: Ashson



I suppose I should take credit for what happened. Or blame, if you're that way inclined. It was like this.

I'm a weekend cyclist. I like to get out on weekends and ride, preferably in the country or up in the mountains. I think it's great zipping along a mountain road, able to see for miles, both out and down. Sometimes you're in groups, other times you're on your own, just you and that tall mountain.

The day it happened I was on my own, heading up this mountain and wondering which trail to take back down. There's a crossroad near the top of the mountain, with a picnic area set up on one corner. Little used as there were far better facilities slightly lower down.

I pulled up at the crossroad to take a break and a sip of water, looking around and admiring the view. While I was doing this, three more cyclists came zipping up, each coming up a different road and, seeing me standing there taking a break, they seemed by mutual accord to decide to do the same.

We casually nodded at each other and exchanged names. Just a Ron, Molly, Becky and Geoff, and then we just stood around, communing with nature.

Speaking of nature, those two women were wonderful examples of it. Young, fit, shapely and reasonably pretty. Not supermodels, or even any sort of model, but nice examples of that pretty girl next door. Both girls were wearing Lycra tops and shorts, and you know how those things can show off a figure. When tight enough, those shorts will even let you know if a woman shaves, and I'll swear that Molly did.

So here I was, just standing there, admiring ALL the scenery, when Molly sees me giving her the once over and laughs. Now Molly's Lycra outfit had these amazing swirls of colour on them that the eye just naturally followed, ending up looking at interesting places. I commented that I hadn't seen that sort of pattern before and Molly told me it was unique.

"I have a friend who paints clothes," she told me. "This is one of her paint jobs. Good, isn't it?"

I had to admit that it was a striking effect. "Just paint?" I asked.

"Just paint," I was assured. Molly tapped her shoulder and said if you touch it you can feel the difference between the material and the paint.

What could I do? I ran my hand over her sleeve, feeling where the paint started, and then my hand just naturally followed the swirls to the end. Like I said, your eyes are drawn to interesting places and so was my hand.

Molly gave me an old fashioned look and gently pushed my hand to one side, but by then I was curious. I touched the swirl starting on the other shoulder and followed that to its end.

Again Molly brushed my hand away, but it didn't matter. I had already transferred my attention to her shorts, and I wasn't even looking at her to see her reaction while I traced the patterns down there. At least until I finished, and I realised just where my finger had finished.

Startled, I looked up at Molly, but she was just watching me, face complete unreadable. Not blank, just unreadable.

I don't know where the impulse came from, or the nerve to follow through on it, but my hands went into reverse, retracing those swirls back from their central finishing point and up to the top of her shorts. Unfortunately, I couldn't seem to make my hands stop at that point and they continued up to her top, but instead of tracing the pattern on her top I was sliding it up and over Molly's breasts, which came spilling down into my grateful clutches.

A nice thing about Lycra, it's so supportive that women often feel no need to wear bras. Molly, happily, being one of those women.

I paid some polite attention to those two wonderful globes, feeling them swell appreciatively to my touch. 

I heard a muffled sound and, realising I'd forgotten about Becky and Geoff, I glanced over at them. Becky was staring interestedly at what I was doing, while Geoff was casting thoughtful glances between us and Becky. I saw him reach out and cup Becky's breast, and instead of pushing him away her hand came up and just closed on his.

Drawing my full attention back to Molly, I started running my hands back down her body, slipping one down the front of her shorts and the other around and across her bottom. At this point I hear a squeak from Becky and had to take another look.

Geoff had decided to go for broke and was already sliding Becky's shorts down. She was watching him with a look of shock, but not trying to stop him.

I glanced up at Molly and saw that she was also looking at Molly and Geoff, and she had a look on her face that indicated total approval of what was going on there.

I can take a hint. Molly's shorts were very quickly sliding down, leaving her fully exposed to my view. And taste. And touch. 

My mouth descended, pleasuring a firm young breast while my hand also descended and played with other things. Molly was breathing deeply and pushing herself against me where-ever I was touching her, enjoying the unexpected pleasures.

Again we heard a small scream from Becky, and a glance showed us that Geoff had indeed been moving fast once he decided to go for it. He had Becky bent over the picnic table and was eagerly penetrating her. She didn't seem quite so eager, but rather startled about all that was going on, apparently not sure how she has arrived at this point.

I could see when she became totally aware of a cock entering her because her eyes went wide and she was no longer looking at what we were doing but concentrating on what she was doing. Or, I should say, on what was being done to her. Geoff seemed very enthusiastic.

At that point I again switched my attention back to Molly, and I could see she had been watching with interest as Becky was shafted.

Now I was urging her to lie on the grass and was kneeling between her thighs. I dropped my shorts so that Molly could see my erection, giving her plenty of time to accept what was coming. Then I leaned forward, parted her lips enough to let me enter, and slid firmly home.

Molly gave a pleased little squeal, pushing firmly up against me, and her legs rose and clamped around me. Now that I was in her she had no intention of letting me go.

You can pretty much guess the rest. I took my time and thoroughly ravished Molly, plunging deep and withdrawing slowly, feeling her legs clamping on me which each thrust. We were both breathing heavily, and I was happy that the cycling kept me fit because I needed to be to keep up.

And all the time we were entertaining each other we could hear little squeaks and squawks coming from Becky as Geoff gave her a thorough rogering. From the amazement in Becky's voice, I don't think she understood even now how this had all happened.

I have to admit I didn't know exactly how it all came about, but I wasn't letting it worry me and neither was Molly. We were moving together like old partners, taking our time and matching our strokes as though from long practise.

There was a final shrill scream from Becky, which I assume was her climax and then silence. Well, not quite silence. Molly was now giving her own little squeaks and squeals of excitement as I rode her hard, peddling fast to the finish line, you might say. If it was a race, she won, because she suddenly screamed and her legs released me as she kicked them into the sky. That was OK, because I didn't mind coming a close second, and then I was slowly cycling the victory lap with her, before we both coasted to a halt.

Relaxing and separating, I looked around. Becky was watching us, scarlet faced, while Geoff had tidied himself up and was mounting his bike. He nodded to us and then shot off down the road.

Molly and I tidied ourselves, while Becky just stood there, still blushing. Molly looked over to Becky and spoke.

"That was very interesting, if unexpected," she said. "Um, I think you really should put your panties back on now."

Listening to another small shriek of horror from Becky and the sound of her frantic dressing I rode down my chosen path.

Cycling is a great sport, and you can run into the most unexpected challenges. I'd have to come this way again.

Cycling Ch. 02



I'd had an unusual encounter last weekend when I went cycling, so I suppose you can't really blame me if this weekend I chose to take the same route.

So here I was, on a beautiful sunny day, heading up the mountain to what I now regard as one of the best break spots on the mountain. As I approached I could see that there were three other cyclists arriving there before me and I grinned, thinking that we meet again, by chance that is not chance.

Coming closer I could see the others were already dismounted and moving naturally towards each other to say hullo. It appeared that Molly, Becky and Geoff had also decided to revisit the scene of the crime, so to speak.

As I approached I realised that I was in error. Molly and Geoff were there, but I was quite certain that was not Becky. She looked similar, but Becky it wasn't.

I had noted during our last encounter that Geoff seemed the rash type, rushing through things without giving it proper thought. He was about to show this little flaw again.

As I approached he moved up to not-Becky and gave a firm tug to her shorts, hoicking them down.

Now I assure you that I had no complaints about the results, as that young woman had a fine figure, and I was pleased to see it so suddenly on view. That doesn't mean that not-Becky had the same opinion. She screamed in fine style, turned and let Geoff have one in the chops while Molly, observant enough to realise who the girl wasn't, started yelling at Geoff.

While not-Becky (her name turned out to be Anne) hurriedly readjusted her shorts I came running up looking belligerent. 

"What the hell do you think you're playing at?" I roared at him. "On your bike and out of here, you pervert, before we call the cops."

Geoff, bright red now as it dawned on him that he'd de-panted the wrong girl, was all mumbled apologies, hopping on his bike and away. I stuck around, hoping maybe I'd get a little Molly time in, but being too smart to count on it as a cert. Any time you take a woman for granted you're going to land in deep doodoo.

"Men," Molly was sympathising with Anne. "They seem to think they only have to pull down your pants and you'll fall for them. They're just so silly at times."

"What I can't understand," said Anne "was why he'd do such a thing in public. I was shocked. I mean, who has sex in public like that."

Molly laughed. "It can be fun," she said, "even with someone watching and cheering you on."

"Easy to say," said Anne with a smile, "but have you ever had sex in the open or with someone you just met?"

Ever noticed how some women can seem to blush to order?

Molly's face seemed to glow and then she was talking. "It's funny you should ask that. Something like that happened to me recently."

Anne seemed to brighten at hearing of other people's problems.

"What happened?" she breathed.

"I was out riding and stopped at a place like this," Molly told her earnestly. "There was another rider there and we were just casually talking while we took a breather. Then he gave me this funny look, reached over and pulled up my top."

"My god," said Anne, "What did you do?"

"Well I slapped his hands away of course," Molly said, "but he just laughed at me and the next thing I knew he was pushing my shorts down. I tried to stop him but he just pushed them all the way down. Would you believe that when I bent down to snatch them back up he actually put his hand between my legs."

"That's terrible," said a shocked Anne. "How did you stop him?"

"I couldn't," sighed Molly. "He was far too strong. He just took of the rest of my clothes and made me lie down."

"You mean he raped you?" sympathised Anne.

"Not exactly," said Molly. "I found that when he put his hand between my legs I quite liked the way he touched me, and I sort of forgot to struggle too hard. And once he had me on the ground I was too busy admiring his equipment to protest when he started using it on me."

"You mean you just let him have sex with you, right in the open? What if someone had come by?"

"Someone did, but I'm not sure if they saw us or not. It was exciting. He was quite a good lover, and I never even knew his last name."

"But how could you do something like that?" Anne asked puzzled. "I mean, have sex with a stranger in the open?"

"It was exciting," Molly told her. "There we were in the open and this man really wanted to see my body, and then he wanted me. Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to have a strange man just look at you naked?"

Anne giggled. "Who hasn't?" she said. "I suspect all women think about that now and then, but generally when they're feeling safe and somewhat bored."

"Well, you've now had a stranger look at your naked bottom," laughed Molly.

"That doesn't count," said Anne. "That guy was just a creep who promptly bolted."

A cue, if I ever heard one.

"I glimpsed it also," I murmured, "and I haven't bolted. I wouldn't mind seeing more of it."

Anne started and blushed. She'd forgotten that I was also there.

I smiled at her, looking unthreatening. "I wouldn't mind lowering those again for a better look," I murmured.

Anne pointedly ignored me, looking away. Molly nudged her. "Go on," she said. "What harm can it do? I'm here, so it's not like he's going to jump you."

Anne flushed even harder, sneaking a peek at me. Then I could see her deliberately taking her courage in her hands. She reached down, and flipped her shorts down enough for me to see her pussy and then back up.

I laughed. "Well done," I congratulated her. "You're very sexy you know, but that's not quite the right way to do it."

I strolled over to stand in front of her and Molly. "This is how it should be done," I told her, giving Molly a wink and getting a tiny nod in return.

I reached over and slowly lifted Molly's top until her breasts spilled free. Leaving her top rucked up over the top of her breasts I then reached down and pushed her shorts down, lowering them to her knees so that all her wares were on display.

Anne was looking at Molly, fascinated. Molly had even managed to produce another blush.

"Your turn now," I told Anne quietly, reaching over to her, my whole bearing expressing my confidence that she would allow me this liberty.

Anne stood there, slightly stunned while I lifted her top up and then carefully slid her shorts down. Her face was absolutely blazing, but she didn't back down.

I looked at both young women, admiring. Lovely figures, the pair of them, Cycling is a healthy exercise.

I reached out and gently cupped one of Anne's breasts, rubbing my hand gently over her nipple. "Your breasts are absolutely exquisite," I told her.

She seemed frozen to the spot, looking shocked, scared, embarrassed and excited all at once. She looked even more shocked when my hand drifted down and gently stroked her pussy.

Anne turned desperately to look at Molly, who was smiling at her. "It's all right," Molly said. "He's just being properly appreciative of your figure. Doesn't your boyfriend touch you like that?"

"Not out in the open like this," mumbled Anne. "I'm not sure of this at all."

"Don't worry," said Molly. "We're still in control. Just let him touch you a little and he'll be ecstatic."

Blushing, Anne continued to let me play lightly with her breasts and pussy, nervous but excited at the daringness of what she was doing, the other woman present giving her the illusion of safety.

Concentrating on how I was touching her, Anne didn't really notice what else I was doing, and I was able to manoeuvre her until she was facing the picnic table and bending over it, leaning on her hands.

I was behind her now, running my hands from her breasts down around her waist and across her bottom, before dipping down and stroking her pussy.

Then I was lightly scratching her labia, just where they met to form her slit, encouraging them to swell and part. As soon as her lips relaxed that little bit extra my fingers were darting into her, teasing her sensitive inner lips and brushing against her vagina and clitoris.

I could feel her hesitate now, and then Molly started chatting to her again.

"What's it feel like to have his fingers teasing you?" she asked. "Ever noticed how small fingers feel compared to you know what?"

"It's strange," gasped Anne. "I'm not used to this sort of thing happening. And his fingers don't seem that small to me."

"Doesn't your boyfriend touch you like that?" asked Molly, curious.

"Not really," gasped Anne, "and this isn't my boyfriend," she finished with a slight wail.

"You'll have to tell your boyfriend to stop being selfish," Molly told her, "and strange bad or strange good?" she probed.

Anne was gasping. "Good," she finally said. "It feels good."

By now I'd also managed to drop my shorts, and my next present for Anne was wanting to make itself known. I slipped my erection between her thighs, letting it rub gently against her slit.

Anne jerked her head up at this touch, looking straight ahead. I could hear her stuttering a little, trying to say something but apparently unable to decide what.

Now or never I decided, and gently spread her lips and entered.

Anne screamed, but didn't tell me to stop, nor did she try to pull away. She stood there, shaking slightly as I slowly went deeper.

She was looking at Molly, when she pleaded, "It's too big. He'll hurt me."

I was startled. I was average size. Maybe on the high size of the average range, but still average. She should be able to handle me easily.

Molly glanced at me and shrugged. "It's all right," she told Anne, a soothing note in her voice. "It just feels big because you're outside and weren't expecting it. Just relax."

I continued to advance slowly, feeling Anne nervously trembling beneath me, like a high bred filly. I suspected that she wasn't too experienced and I also suspected that her boyfriend must have a wiener the size of a cigarette, the way Anne was shuddering and adjusting to me.

Then I was fully in, my pubes pressing firmly against and tickling her labia.

Anne was gasping and panting, feeling me within her and twisting back and forth a little to get comfortable with it.

After a few moments she settled down, pressing lightly against me and waiting for what was to come. I pressed gently against her and then relaxed again, extracting a little squeal from Anne at the movement.

I started to move more firmly, withdrawing almost to my limit before driving back into her, and Anne was responding, her hips rising sharply to meet my plunge. She was continuously squeaking with excitement now, relishing the movement within her, anxious to keep it coming, eager to co-operate and let it all happen.

Any reservations she may have had about being taken in public by a stranger had been firmly clubbed on the head once my cock had banged home inside her. Now she seemed to be determined to make up for lost time and was riding in fine style. I felt a flash of pity for her boyfriend. Next time round she was going to make him really work at pleasuring her.

I continued to drive home into. Cycling gives you fine stamina, which carries over into other fields. Unfortunately, knowing that we were in public and that Anne would feel humiliated if others did come along, I felt it would be wrong to unduly prolong our little excursion.

Anne's excited squeaking had turned into an anticipatory squeal. Reluctantly, as I would have enjoyed holding her on the cusp for a few minutes until she was really squealing with need, I drove into her harder with sharp short strokes, lifting her to the heights while releasing my own tensions within her.

Anne screamed again, as she felt me spill within her, and then sagged against the table, exhausted.

I let her lie there for a few moments, letting her catch her breath. Then I moved back, letting Molly encourage her to stand and tidy her clothes.

I winked at Molly, both of us knowing that we wouldn't be having our own little interlude now, and then I was on my bike.

As I left I could hear Anne protesting to Molly, "You said you didn't even know a man's last name. I don't even know that guy's first."