Catch Me If You Can

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“Just don’t fucking lose it!”

I left the room with Bill’s admonition ringing in my ears. The recumbent bicycle I was carrying was worth a fortune, not that many would recognise that fact. Just as well really or I would probably have been mugged within seconds of stepping outside onto the London Streets.

It was made using the new nano-technology. It weighed less than a quarter of anything else I had ridden yet the lateral stiffness made all those bikes seem cheap and nasty, yes even the ones supplied by the sponsors during my racing days fifteen years earlier.

I had given up le Tour and all the other races after my team manager ordered me to take some steroid injections. “Why else do you think that you have been a second rate competitor since you went pro? You’ve got what it takes in the dedication and physique department but without the jabs you will never be a winner.”

I walked out that day. I wrote up what had happened and sent it to one of the cycling magazines but it never got printed. Back then, just too many people were in on the badly kept secret of performance enhancing drugs. What was worse, it got written up that the reason I got sacked from the team was that I had been taking the drugs.

Three years and a lot of legal time later an apology was written in that same magazine. I got a shit load of money but there was a condition that I didn’t speak to the press about it.

Since then I had kept myself pretty fit, had taken part in a few world speed record attempts for human powered vehicles. I would have had one as well except that it was disallowed because the wind speed was too high in one direction.

So I had this machine for a month to play with. One thing that money meant was that had I been so inclined I could have given up work completely. Bill’s gift tempted me into taking a break. My training regime went up from about fifteen hours a week to thirty or more, hell I was doing more time on the bike than my whole routine was before.

When | have done cycle touring I have always travelled light. There was a space in the rear faring on the recumbent that could take all I needed and after a week of riding round home I set off for a spot in the Lake District where I knew it would be quiet but there were a few hills that would really test me.

I was the only guest at the youth hostel when I arrived though I knew that would change at the weekend. I set my stuff out on the bed and then went on a quick fifteen mile ride to go get something to eat.

Being just a little paranoid I parked the bike where I could see it as well as using the lock Bill had given me, “If anyone nicks it with this on they have either cut or nicked whatever you fastened it to as well.” The lock was also built using nano-tube technology and I certainly failed when I tried using some hefty bolt croppers on it to test what I had been told.

Back down the hill I clocked up over fifty miles an hour and it handled like a dream but even so I was on edge. All it would take to kill me would be some idiot pulling out without looking. I climbed into bed but didn’t sleep for over an hour with all the adrenaline buzzing through my veins.

Day two saw me going north from the hostel which I had made my base and after fifty miles of fairly gentle downhill after an initial sharp climb I was ready to eat again. Eat and refill my water supply.

I ate a good lunch, resisting the temptation to sample the real ales on offer. That could wait till some time when I wasn’t testing a product that could make Bill and the rest of his team multi-millionaires. I had to eat well — food is a cyclist’s fuel. Crap petrol in a high performance engine will ruin it. The same is true of an athlete’s body and I guess that is why I have always been so anti-drugs.

Too many people have had heart attacks or strokes from them. Whatever those pushing them say, they just aren’t safe. Anyone who takes anabolics or even the newer EPO which is around now gambling short term performance against their health or even life.

So after time for my lunch to go down and a promise to the landlord to return to sample the selection of real ales he served it was time to cycle back.

The long slow climbs are the ones cyclists on the tour and other races hate. Especially when there are lots of false summits that fool you into thinking you are about to go over the top only to see a further long climb ahead. On this bike I wasn’t bothered. There was no one to race against and the lightness and efficiency of the machine I was riding made it comparatively easy work.

Or it was until she passed me. I didn’t get that good a look at her body but she had a smile that said, “Catch me if you can.”

Now I know anyone reading this will be thinking that my sex hormones took over at once but that really isn’t what happened. No, I was back on the tour, all those years earlier. The only time I won a stage. If anyone had passed me on any sort of bike, even one of those electric Travesti assisted ones I would have been compelled to go for it.

She was good! She had been doing a good five or six miles an hour more than me when I awoke from peddling by rote. I dropped a gear and set about trying to catch her. If I had been a bit more awake I don’t think she would have got past. As it was she had a good hundred yards of a lead.

After a few seconds I thought I was gaining but only slowly. She had looked back and seen that I was going for it and was up for giving me a race. This was what Bill needed I thought, a bike test didn’t mean anything till it was tested in competition. Well he was going to get one.

Ten miles on and I had halved the distance between us. The sweat was pouring off me in the late afternoon heat and I hoped it was off her too! I drank some more water from the tube going back to the plastic tank behind me.

Another twenty five miles and almost at the top of the hill I was right behind her ass. And a very nice ass it was too! My girlfriend had left me believing me guilty of taking the drugs and the intervening years had with the odd exception been pretty lean.

Now my hormones did kick in! My speed on the bike clock went up to almost thirty. On an ordinary bike that would have been hard work on the flat, not that this wasn’t hard work. My gluteus maximi if that is the correct plural were putting there all into it as were my quads.

We were just cresting the top as I pulled level and started to go up through the gears to build up my speed going downhill. It wasn’t long before my peddling couldn’t keep up with my speed. I would need to talk to Bill about that. I knew I was pushing it going round the bends but I still think I could have gone a bit faster. Though the recumbent is scary at first because you are so close to the ground the lower centre of gravity means it can corner faster than an ordinary bicycle.

On that hairy two mile descent I picked up almost twenty seconds on her. As I coasted into the driveway to the hostel I lifted both hands in the air, Tour style before almost leaving my braking too late. I skidded to a stop and watched her come in second.

She looked at me and then at the machine I had been riding. She didn’t need to speak the question. I nodded and with one hand she tested it’s weight, and swore.

“you bastard! Where the fuck did you get this and where can I get one.”

It was only then that I recognised her, Yvonne, probably Britain’s best hope for a women’s medal in the forthcoming Olympics in China. Seeing the look of lust in her face I knew I had to let her down gently. “You can’t yet. This is a one off prototype that I am testing. I reckon it is worth more than everything I own put together. I doubt if they could build you one in time for the Olympics even if they had the money for it. After today though I think my report will get them the financial backing they need to start full production.

Yvonne was almost crying. “Damn you!” She said, “Why did you have to be going up that hill just then to interrupt my training?”

“So that I could get a feel of what this was like in a real race.” I replied. “I could have written anything I liked about my time playing with it but an account of today will really bring in the backers.” After a short pause I added, “Anyway, this thing is so light it wouldn’t be legal in a road race.”

It was true, I wasn’t sure then but I checked it later.

I put my arms around her and felt her hard toned body soften a little. Even so I was aware of how hard her abdominal muscles were. When a cyclist gets out of the saddle on a climb upper body strength is important. Too many would be top cyclists neglect their upper body training in favour of the legs. Yvonne clearly didn’t though I still don’t know whether that was purely from her own choice or because she had a good coach.

We picked up our respective steeds. Yvonne was riding her best race bike and like me wasn’t going to take any chances. Hell she even put a motion sensor alarm on it as well as locking it to her bed.

I knew that in an equal race even with the advantage of male strength I could never have won. The ten year age gap between us meant I was at least five years past successful competition even had I stayed in the game. Yvonne knew it too and knew that I knew. As we cooled down there was a mutual respect between us and ignoring the fact that my body desperately wanted to fuck hers. I asked if she wanted first or second shower.

I had always liked women with muscles, even though most would have described her massive calf muscles and six pack as unfeminine, she turned me on. There was no way I was going to resist the temptation to use my right hand to relieve myself once in there.

Yvonne smiled, “There are two showers there.”

“Maybe. But I am not sure I can be responsible for anything that happens if we both go in at the same time.”

Yvonne Ankara Travesti finished rummaging in her bag and extracted a towel. She then, quite deliberately started to undress in front of me. Not that that took long. – Shirt, (her small breasts had no need for a bra.) shoes, socks and lycra shorts and that was it. “Don’t worry, I will take full responsibility.”

She had the typical cyclist’s tan, One side of the arms brown the other almost white, lower legs, again almost white and then above the knees to where the shorts reach dark brown and then white again. Her short compact body had already made me start to leak.

I followed her example and then followed her perfect body into the shower.

“Do you want to wash my hair?”

Did I want to wash her hair? I wanted to wash every last square inch of her body and that was just for starters! And soon that was just what I was doing. After the hair my hands moved to her shoulders. My fingers worked their way into those tight muscles. I remembered from my days racing what my shoulders were like at the end of the day.

Yvonne was almost purring with contentment. Her tight ass was pushing into my balls and my erect penis, still leaking pre-cum was sandwiched between my own taught belly and her back.

My hands came forward and a little lower as I covered those firm tits with soap. My fingers traced their way around her areolae and I felt how hard her nipples were. I may have got a bit carried away at that point because it was some while later I her her ask, “What about the rest of my body?”

Being a gentleman I apologised and set about making good my negligence. It was not too much longer till my hands were soaping up her short pubic hair. My guess is it was about a week since she had last shaved it. Even over the scent of her shower gel I could smell her arousal.

A few years earlier I would have been fucking her before this point. Now I wanted to make this experience last as long as I could. After lightly running my fingers around the edge of her cunt I then washed her back and spent a not inconsiderable amount of time on those tight ass muscles.

I moved to her feet and made my way up her calves and only after I had given her thighs adequate attention did I return to her waiting pussy. After gently exploring the slipperiness of the inside of her outer lips I sat down on the floor of the shower to taste her. I pushed my tongue as deep as I could manage before tracing my way over every last spot of her sex, flicking her clit from time to time.

It was only when she grabbed my head with her hands that I took that hard nub between my lips and started to really work on it. At the same time I pushed two fingers into her and slowly built up a rhythm to match that of my mouth and tongue. I knew when I found her G-spot because her hands on the back of my head became a vice like grip and her incoherent cries reached a crescendo. Suddenly my fingers were squeezed tight in the waves of her orgasm.

At this point even though my own release was yet to cum (pardon the pun) I felt far more satisfied than had I wanked off thinking about Yvonne’s body. I needn’t have worried. “Your turn next.” she smiled.

I don’t remember in what order her hands explored my body, suffice it to say they did and throughout that exploration I was on the point of shooting off jets of hot thick sperm. Finally I felt the warmth of her lips engulfing my cock. Unfortunately that was the point when the hot water ran out. I felt her teeth near my base as she reacted to the shock. Yvonne’s apology was almost inaudible through her giggles as she turned off the shower.

Once again inside her mouth I felt her lips gliding up and down my length and the different sensations of her lips around my glans at one extreme and of touching the back of her throat at the other. Despite the shock of the cold water I was not going to last long and a few minutes later I felt myself start to twitch.

Before I could warn Yvonne and ask if she wanted me to pull out she was already swallowing. Eight or nine strong spurts later and then she was licking and sucking to clean away the slow leaking that followed. Each time her tongue touched my snake’s eye I would twitch again.

Yvonne stood up and I held her tight against me. She giggled again before speaking, “Sorry to complain but despite your generous offerings I am still hungry. Shall we cook?”

Still laughing we finished drying off and dressed. The cooking facilities were if basic at least of good quality and soon two steaks were sizzling away along with onions while new potatoes from the same farm as the onions were boiling alongside them. While we were waiting we each ate a couple of large slices of fresh bread coated in butter. A fifty odd mile race followed by a steamy session in the shower had left us with an appetite that would have had many accusing us of greed.

At some point during the meal I cracked open a bottle of oak aged istanbul Travesti Merlot and toasted Yvonne’s success at the forthcoming Olympics. After we had clinked glasses she looked at me, curiosity in her eyes.

“I don’t even know your name. Who are you? What’s your connection with racing.”

Slowly Yvonne learned the full story. I had guessed she wasn’t a doper, partly because she just didn’t look like one. – Remember what the Russian gymnasts of the eighties looked like? Mind you I didn’t and still don’t really know if it is that obvious with more modern drugs. The real reason was I just couldn’t believe that the beauty who had just shared her body with me was on drugs.

Yvonne actually cried hearing about my exit from the sport I loved. Somehow that brought us closer than the sex had. I determined that even if it were impossible for her to get a nano-tube bike this time round, she would get one for the women’s tour next year.

So after learning that Yvonne had dropped her stuff of at the hostel by taxi, her racing bike being no use for carrying gear we prepared for bed.

We were the only ones at the hostel so there was no problem putting two mattresses on the floor. We then slept. We could have fucked then but, no we slept though the last thing I remember before dropping off was a raging hard on which Yvonne kept trapped between our naked bodies.

I guess it went down at some point in the night but I was still rock hard when I woke up. Yvonne was lying on my arm and that hand was only a very small movement from carressing her right tit. The other rested against her flat stomach.

I made the adjustment and was soon rewarded by a moan and the feel of her nipple hardening. My left hand headed South till my fingers were running through her short, fine pubic hair. One of Yvonne’s own hands grasped my wrist and pulled it down a little further till my fingers could once more explore her sex.

My idea had been to go slow but perhaps Yvonne had been dreaming about sex, whatever the reason she was more than ready for action. Within seconds I could feel her juices coating my fingers. After freeing my trapped arm I turned her onto her back and folded her legs back so her ankles were by her ears. I kissed along the back of each leg in turn until I reached her ready and waiting vagina.

Yvonne certainly didn’t want the gentle approach I had taken in the shower. My cock between her lips working their magic and her hips pressing her juicy centre into my face, it was only minutes till she cried, “Fuck me Mark!”

Never had that action felt so right. I slid into her with an ease that belied the tightness I felt. Her thighs pushing against my body felt so erotic. Again and again I entered her, sometimes only going in a fraction and others pushing till our pubic bones collided. I felt and saw Yvonne reach between our bodies and her legs for her clitoris. A minute or so later I felt her muscles clamp tight around my cock. So tight it was almost painful. I couldn’t make out the words as she came but she was so loud I was almost deafened. I speeded up with my thrusts into her still spasming pussy.

I felt a growl escape from my lips. Where had that come from? I didn’t do noise during sex? A second later I was emptying a load that would have made me question our session in the shower had I not got it fixed so firmly in my mind. What wasn’t coming out on it’s own, Yvonne milked from me.

Surprisingly I stayed hard. Yvonne also wasn’t finished and after pushing me over on my back she lowered herself onto me, sitting so that I was able to watch her vagina, still dripping with our combined juices raising and lowering on my prick. My hands reached and found her breasts and at the same time Yvonne’s hand again found her clitoris.

Her powerful cyclist’s leg muscles raised and lowered her pussy around my hard cock. With our love juice coating our organs it was as if my penis were bathed in hot oil. I started to thrust up against Yvonne’s downward motions. At the same time I moved my hands to her butt cheeks and I massaged them while pulling them apart each time our pubic bones met.

As Yvonne speeded up, the sweat was pouring from us both. I thanked God I had kept myself fit, or I would have if my whole attention wasn’t taken up by what we were doing! Suddenly, Yvonne’s breathing became much faster and she came so hard it was almost painful the way her cunt gripped me. It was so tight I couldn’t move inside her but then I didn’t need to. My own pulsating orgasm was bringing me the release I was so desperate for.

It was only as we showered again, a gentle, tender washing of each other’s bodies this time rather than sexual that I wondered why Yvonne was staying at the hostel to train.

I didn’t realise that I had spoken the question out loud till she answered, “He tried to rape me, along with two of his mates. It was in the kitchen of one of my team mate’s houses. Last time I saw him he was unconscious after I hit him with a cast iron frying pan. One of his mates had a broken leg and the other one legged it. They didn’t reckon on me being a third dan black belt at Shotokan Karate. Anyway I ditched him as my coach before calling the police, though I doubt if he heard me.”

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