Chloe’s Sweet Pink Pt. 02

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This is part 2 of a series which continues Chloe’s timeline from “Riding With Dirty Girls,” “Chloe Rides Again,” and “Chloe’s Return.” You can probably get something out of the sex scenes in isolation, but for background, you ideally need to have read the other series’ first.

This 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, and any that are involved in sexual activities are over 18.

***

Chloe’s Sweet Pink Pt. 02

Green. Why is it always regarded as the colour of envy? The “green-eyed monster” etc? Someone told me it originated from a Shakespeare quote, but why green? I still don’t know.

Anyway, envy is something that lurks in the shadows when you have a promiscuous lifestyle like I — and the other free girls — have. The green-eyed monster stalks us all the time – we’re only human after all — and it must be avoided, or kept at a distance at least. Otherwise, the whole free girls vibe would be lost and, as any girl knows, you don’t want to lose your vibe.

I think Licia and I have become quite secure and comfortable with each other now, and our little extracurricular liaisons are seen purely as a bit of frivolous fun. Insouciant and inconsequential.

That’s not to say I don’t have serious affection for my free girlfriends, even a kind of love for some of them, like Helen, and Molly, but I keep them in their place. My home bed is always with Licia.

I have to admit though, I was envious of her girly night out with Lisa and Sian at the lesbian rooftop party. It wasn’t a green-eyed monster kind of jealousy. It didn’t burn and simmer like that, it was more a feeling of missing out; I wanted to go to the lesbian party, I wanted to get to know Sian better, and I wanted to indulge in a debauched sex romp, which was how my dirty mind imagined the evening would end.

Then I walked into the dining room and saw Helen and Marlen… Well, I may have been missing out on the doings in Dublin, but I could possibly find a little compensation right here.

They were sitting very close to each other, and I could just tell there was an amorous charge passing between them. They weren’t actually touching each other, but there was no mistaking the intensity of their conversation (whatever it was) or the deep affection in their lengthy eye-contacts. It occurred to me that Lucy needed to be careful if she wanted to avoid losing Helen to Marlen.

I sat directly opposite them and gave them a long and very saucy look. They stopped talking, and tore their eyes away from each other to look at me and I pouted suggestively.

‘Is there something on your mind, Chloe?’ said Helen, smirking.

‘Oh yes. You bet there is. I have a feeling that you are going to ask if you can bring Marlen to the room tonight…’ They looked at each other and smiled, and they didn’t deny it. ‘Well, I say Marlen is very welcome, as long as you aren’t planning to kick me out.’

They chuckled and shook their heads. ‘Oh Chloe, you are so cheeeky!’ said Marlen.

‘Of course you can join us, Chloe,’ said Helen with a smile. ‘That will be fun.’

We didn’t take the conversation any further because the table was filling up and we didn’t think the straight girls would understand, or rather, they WOULD understand, but we didn’t want to put them off their dinners. Straight women can be weird like that.

I ate with gusto, as always, and I had two appetites raging within me, both of which were going to be satisfied before the night was done. I kept looking at them, and our eyes often met. The anticipation of sizzling sex was heavy between us, and I swear Marlen blushed a couple of times, just because of the fruity looks I gave her.

We could hardly wait to head up to the room, but we didn’t want to make it TOO obvious, so we had dessert, then coffee, then had a drink with the girls. By 9pm, our libidos were bouncing off the ceiling, and Helen finally said ‘Shall we go up?’ My glass was on the bar in a flash, and I was still swallowing fruit juice as we headed for the stairs.

As you may recall, Marlen and Helen are old flames, having had an illicit fling 8 years before, when Marlen was still very young. A fling that had almost got them into trouble. Now though, at 26 and 34, there were no such concerns. In fact, at 22, I was the youngster in this triumvirate.

It was a position I relished, to be honest. I always think we only start to reach our sexual peak in our thirties, and Helen, Molly, Marianne, Lucy, Debbie – all these thirty-something women — are incredibly sexy, and sexual. It almost makes me look forward to being that age myself.

Anyway, a threesome with Helen and Marlen was a mouthwatering prospect, and there was something especially exciting about going to bed with those two. I liked the dynamic between them. Because gebze escort of their history, there was a comfort and confidence. They knew each other’s likes, and they weren’t bashful about saying exactly what they wanted. I guess Licia and I are becoming like that.

We got into the room and started stripping. There were no stripteases, or underwear fetishism, but we were all watching each other appreciatively. Helen’s wonderfully soft and feminine form was of course very familiar to me, but it was lovely to reacquaint myself with Marlen.

She’s tall and slender, yet shapely, a little bit like Molly actually, which I hadn’t quite realised before. She’s not quite so lean and toned as Molly, surprisingly. Her stomach is not quite so rippled, and her legs are less muscular, but her breasts are slightly bigger — and amazingly perky. They remind me a little of Licia’s; rude and firm.

I sat on one of the beds and watched them kiss. As you know, I’m besotted with Helen’s kisses and it was fascinating to be an onlooker. Watching them smooching, their twirling tongues dancing erotically, was incredibly horny, and my fingers were soon busy in my honeypot.

I had two fingers writhing, deep inside, while simultaneously thumbing my clit mercilessly. There was no delaying or holding back. I wanted to come as quickly as possible, and with Helen and Marlen kissing and fingering each other right there in front of me, it wasn’t going to take long.

I think they’d become so absorbed in each other that they’d almost forgotten I was there, but they were reminded of my presence when I gave a plaintive little orgasmic whimper.

‘Oh my, Chloe. I guess you needed that, hm?’ said Helen as they came to sit each side of me.

‘Oh fuck, yes,’ I gasped. ‘Jeeez you two are so hot together.

I threw myself back on the bed, like I was swooning, and said, melodramatically, ‘Take me, I’m yours. Do what you like to me. Use me…’

They chuckled. ‘Well, if you insist,’ said Helen.

‘Sit on her face, Helen,’ said Marlen, ‘I want to watch you.’

Helen climbed on top of me, and I tucked my arms between those delectable thighs and welcomed her. It had been a while since I’d been queened by Helen and I was craving it. ‘Oh, yeah, Helen. Fuck me’ ‘

Her plump pussy, with its newly-sparse pubes, moved up onto my lips and I just lost myself in the sublime pleasure of squishy wet cunt flesh, thewy thighs, and fubsy bum cheeks embracing my chin.

Marlen lay close, head propped on her elbow, gazing avidly as she slowly pumped her fingers in and out of her perfect pussy.

We were quite close to the bed’s headboard, and Helen took hold of it and moved into a squatting position, then started slowly fucking my face. This was not her usual style. It was much more sassy and provocative, and I knew she was doing it for Marlen’s benefit. Putting on a show. Go Helen, I thought, as she ground her clit on my nose.

It definitely had the desired effect on Marlen, who breathed ‘Ohhh, fuck,’ as her hand built up speed, and Helen, encouraged by this reaction, fucked me harder, grunting with the effort as she drubbed me with pelvic thrusts.

I was loving it. I was in full sub-mode, enjoying being used like a toy; pussy-whipped, royally fucked. Helen like this was overwhelming. She was so strong, so energetic, so aggressive, yet at the same time, so, so female. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.

When she came, I was completely unprepared. She was thrusting, thrusting, thrusting, and I was trying to keep my tongue out to stimulate her clit whenever I could, when suddenly, her moans dropped by an octave and incredibly musky, sapid orgasm juice trickled into my throat, making me gag and cough until I could swallow it.

Marlen’s orgasmic cry followed almost immediately; ‘Yeeaaahhhhhhh’ as her fingers fucked her hole rapidly, making lurid squelching noises.

Helen’s taste changed dramatically, becoming altogether more acrid and piquant. The taste of pure female orgasm. It was truly a flavour to savour, and I lay there, squashed into the damp duvet lapping up her drips and licking my lips.

At length, she rolled off me and moved down to kiss me and clean up my face a little, both of us sharing that oh so carnal nectar.

It was a while before Marlen stirred, then she sat up and said, ‘Phew, that was so hot I thought I was going to explode.’ She brushed her crinkly hair back with both hands and puffed her cheeks out.

I lay back and beckoned her with the fingers of both hands. ‘Do you want a turn? It’s even better first-hand… Your turn to watch, Helen,’ I beamed, and I wiggled my tongue, lewdly as Marlen climbed over me, bringing her oh, so beautiful pussy for me to gorge on…

I woke in the morning to the sound of Helen and Marlen, giggling in the shower, and I lay listening to them and smiling to myself. Our sex had been super-hot, and I loved being dommed by them. They are quite different, physically, but both gümüşhane escort gorgeous. I closed my eyes and remembered Marlen’s perfect pussy. Wow.

They emerged from a steamy bathroom, looking very pleased with themselves. ‘Morning Chloe,’ they chimed, and I yawned and grumped about how long they’d been in there as I tottered past them.

I looked in the mirror at my dishevelled countenance; eyes bleary, hair like a haystack, and I felt at my slightly tender nose. It really had taken a drubbing.

My finger tips tasted salty, and there was still a faint residual flavour of sex fluids in my mouth and on my lips. It no longer tasted nectarous, but I still liked it because it reminded me of how I’d savoured it the previous night.

I suddenly realised how hungry I was, so I brushed my teeth and jumped in the shower. Oh boy, Was I going to enjoy breakfast today!

This morning’s bus transfer was another short one, so after breakfast I had a little time to kill. I went outside to sit at a picnic table and call Licia. I was itching to hear what had happened on her night out.

‘Mornin babe. Ready for the stage?’ she chirped.

‘Mornin. Yeh, not too hard today. Just a matter of staying out of trouble. Nobody will be fighting for GC today… How did your night out go?’

‘It was great fun. Sian is a hoot, and very sexy when she’s dressed up. Lisa and I were blown away when we saw her.’ I could imagine that. Tall and busty is a great formula for a bit of glamour.

‘Was the lesbian party good?’

‘Yeah…’ she chuckled. ‘Bit surreal really. I’ve never been in a room full of lezzys before. Mostly single lezzys too. There was a lot of flirting going on. A short chubby girl with huge knockers took a shine to Lisa. They were making eyes half the night. I think Lise got her number.’

‘They didn’t cop off with each other though?’

‘No, Lisa shared a taxi with me.’

‘What about Sian?’

‘She left same time, in a separate taxi. Hey, what’s with the question time?’

‘Oh just interested.’

‘You’ve got nothing to be worried about, babe. We all went home seperately, and absolutely nothing happened. Yep, that’s right, we went to a lesbian singles do and there was absolutely zero sex.’

‘Disappointed?’

‘No, it was fine. We had fun.’

I felt a little relieved, but also strangely triumphant. Despite being left out, it was I who had ended the night with a sex romp, not her. Competitive infidelity? How weird is that?

I didn’t want to seem like I was crowing, so I simply didn’t mention Helen and Marlen, and she didn’t ask

***

Stage 3: Vezza-Trento

Moderate hill. 122km / 1400m

Like Stage 2, the third stage also had a slightly odd profile. Starting in the Oglio valley, quite close to where we’d been the previous day, it immediately made a 20km ascent of Passo Tonale at 1883m, then basically descended for 100km to the finish in Trento.

Usually, when a big climb is tackled early like this, the peloton rides it very conservatively, it being so far from the finish, and breakaways struggle to form on the downhill because of the sheer speed of the peloton. Therefore, this kind of stage is tailor-made for sprinters, who can just sit in the wheels all the way, drafting, then sprint at the end.

It’s not my favourite kind of stage, for a variety of reasons, but one of them is the safety aspect. Travelling fast in a tightly packed bunch is extremely stressful. You have to have your wits about you all the time because a single touch of wheels can cause a huge pile-up.

I try to stay near the front as much as possible so that, if there is a pile-up, I’m less likely to be caught up in it, and that was my plan for today. Stay up front and out of trouble. Simple self-preservation.

Another short bus ride took us to Vezza, and soon, we were starting to gather for the start. I saw Helen and Marlen and I stuck my tongue out and waggled it in a rude reference to the previous night’s debauchery, making them giggle and shake their heads at my impudence.

As always, all the jersey-wearers formed the front line before the start, and posed for photos. Elisa was in pink (as overall GC leader), but the other category points available at intermediate sprints had been shared out by the Italians during their escape the previous day. So Zara was in blue (mountains classification) and Letizia was in red (sprint points classification) but there was I on the end, in white as the best-placed young rider (under 25). The team had even provided me with a white bike, a white helmet, and white gloves to match, but I hoped I’d be exchanging all of them them for pink at some point.

We rolled out to km 0 and started the climb immediately. The gradient only averaged about 4.5% so the bunch were able to keep up a good pace most of the way, and no attacks were attempted. A couple of short ramps of 8% strung things out, briefly, but by the top we were all back together.

I izmir escort spotted Mae and came alongside her for a chat. As a sprinter, this was a stage she could win. As you may recall from the Vuelta, she’d got her first stage win at Logroño at the age of 19, making her the youngest ever winner of a World Tour race. She’d turned 20 since then, and she was now considered one of the brightest up and coming star sprinters in the peloton – expected to take over the mantle of Marieke, who had been number one for over a decade.

‘Are you going for it today, Mae?’ I asked her.

‘Yes I am. Marieke has agreed to be my final lead out, after Bella and Gigi.’ I exchanged a smile with Gigi.

‘Wow, generous of her.’

‘Yeah, she’s sort of taken me under her wing.’ She smiled, shyly.

‘Good luck.’

‘Thanks.’

The long, LONG run down towards Trento took us through Vermiglio, Val di Sole, scene of my first cyclocross triumph in the snow, back in December, which seemed a whole world away.

I recalled that magical night in the cabin with Carmen, star-gazing and fucking in front of the log fire, and I tuned out and fell to daydreaming…

SHIT! I touched Trude’s rear wheel with my front, and we both nearly fell. We went into snaky wobbles, and girls around us had to take avoiding action, leading to a chain-reaction wave that spread through the peloton as more and more riders had to brake or swerve. Our speed disappeared completely in just a few metres, but somehow nobody crashed.

FUCK, that was too close. Keep your bloody mind on the job, Chloe.

As usual after an incident like this — sometimes even after a major pile-up – there were no recriminations. Everyone just breathed a sigh of relief, and settled back into the rhythm. It was just one of the hazards of the game. I did ride up alongside Trude and briefly put my hand on her back as an apology though.

There were no more close calls, and the peloton was soon winding up to full speed on the approach to the finish. I just sat tight in the bunch, concentrating on keeping out of trouble, and rolled across the line safe and sound.

I only found out the result by looking at the electronic display, but I did watch the “highlights,” later (the near pile-up was the biggest incident) and the finish.

Mae’s lead out by Bella, Gigi and Marieke went smoothly, but Katarzyn Scholz of Equipe Verso-Lab timed her sprint to perfection and took it on the line in a tight photo finish. I’ve nothing against Katia, but that was what’s known in the trade as a damp squib of a stage.

I had to hang around to be presented with my next white jersey, but as soon as I could, I returned to the team bus to towel myself off and get changed.

Only Debbie was on board, and she peered out from behind her curtain as I was dressing and said. ‘Oo, Chloe. Can I interest you in a massage?’

I didn’t really feel like I needed one, but I knew that this was just her naughty way of getting her hands on me, and I wasn’t averse to that. ‘OK,’ I said, and toddled into her cubicle with just my sports knickers on, and a tee shirt and shorts in my hand. I could feel my bare nipples hardening. There must’ve been a draught or something.

‘Topless eh? You’re not shy, are you Chloe?

‘Nope. I haven’t got much to show, anyway…’ I looked down at my modest little mounds.

‘You’re kidding, right?’ she said. ‘You have beautiful boobs Chloe. Super-cute. And those nipples… wow.’

‘They’re not like yours though, Debs,’ I said, eyeing them appreciatively, as they bustled beautifully under her team polo shirt.

‘No, they’re not like mine, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t gorgeous. I love ’em.’ She pouted fruitily.

‘Hm, well I guess it’s nice to have them appreciated.’

‘Hop on the bench, face down,’ she said and I did so, looking forward to a repeat of the wondrous massage she’d given me in Liège after my attack of cramp. As well as being as hot as hell, she’s also a brilliant masseuse. I know “magic hands” is a terrible cliché but they really are.

She began at the bottom of my left calf muscle and worked her way up, using some kind of balm that smoothed and lubricated, leaving my skin feeling pleasantly warm and tingly.

Just like in Liège, she worked all the way up to my bum creases, and down between my legs, leaving me in no doubt at all that the inner thighs are an erogenous zone. I wondered if the moisture in my pussy was showing on the gusset of my knickers yet.

‘Turn please,’ she said, after she’d repeated the massage on the other leg. I turned over to lie on my back, and she gave me a bolster for my head.

My boobs may be small, but they are quite firm and don’t subside much when I lie down. I admired them, musing that they looked like two smooth hills with little towers on their summits.

Debbie went to work on my thighs, and it was very pleasant, lying there as her hands worked wonders on my fatigued quads, rippling the muscles with her thumbs and moving up towards my increasingly fervid pussy. There was just no escaping the eroticism of this massage.

‘You have great legs, Chloe. I mean, all cyclists have great leg muscles, but yours are especially shapely. I bet they’d look great in stockings.’ I smiled. Little did she know.

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