Bicycle Girl, Part 1

by LesLuv

I'm sitting at the traffic lights, smiling to myself, remembering the morning hour with my hot sexy love, when I become aware of a girl on a bicycle in the lane near the curb. She's wearing the usual things, sensible helmet and knee guards with back pack and water bottle, but it is her clothing that first gets my attention. Green lycra short shorts and purple lycra tank top, blue and white sneakers, white socks. Nice figure, beautiful skin.

Her left leg is resting on the ground, the right ready to push off the moment the lights change. Then I notice that the muscle in her left thigh, right up to her sexy little derriere is spasming, vibrating, or pulsing, which seems pretty unusual. Cramp? Nerves? I ease forwards to see her face - maybe she's suffering or something, and I love bringing succour to sufferers.

Well, if that's suffering I see, it's the oddest kind; in fact it's the kind of suffering I do myself, often, although never at traffic lights.

She's orgasming. Full blown over-the-top ecstasy, mouth open, panting, flushed and sweating. No wonder her leg is shaking. I could help her shake the other one.  Instinctively I lower the passenger window, lean over and say as loudly as necessary, "Want to fuck?"

The traffic is not heavy, and my words cause her to jerk her head towards me, surprised and shocked. Her mouth opens, she's bright red, but before she utters a word a horn behind me blares and she takes off like a startled bird, legs pumping and bike unsteady.

I don't follow, just smile to myself as I gather speed. The things one sees these days, and this a decorous university town and all. Still, she was lovely, about fifteen, rounded and luscious. Dark brown ponytail, big brown eyes, no makeup, just a pair of pearl studs for ornament. I could show her a thing or two about orgasms, and I can almost taste her juice as I imagine getting my tongue between her throbbing pink lips. 'Stop it!' I tell myself, 'you've got plenty of sex already, a beautiful relationship with a like-minded undergrad who happens to dote on your body and mind, and you wouldn't want to spoil that, now would you?'

Well, no, but I'd like to find out how she did it on a bike in the middle of town. Riding over cobblestones can be nice, so either she's so highly tuned that that's enough, or she'd had her fingers at work. Naughty girl!

The morning lecture on the development of foreign policy keeps my mind off the previous subject - I'm studying politics and law - but as I break for coffee before the tutorial the bicycles racked by the building steer my mind into memory and heat, and I suddenly want to do the same as she had been doing. I love learning, but I love learning about sex even more. I call Alicia, hoping she's out and about, but it goes to voice mail, so I leave my heavy breathing message. Nineteen, stunningly beautiful, tall, athletic, blond, fun and living with me, she's my idea of heaven. As I'm a year older she looks to me for guidance. And boy, can I guide.

My bicycle girl stays as a hum in the background for the rest of the day, but I'm aware of hyper-eye observation as I drive back to my two room apartment. No pulsing peddlers, no lycra I'd like to lick, and I'm still distracted as Alicia later nuzzles my neck and tweaks my teats into arousal.

"Come on, Hannah, hug me, I've been thinking of you all the day." Her tongue finds mine and we fall to the floor, hot and horny. Jesus, I love what we get up to. And down to. Twenty minutes later, when I'm all juiced up, still hot and heavenly, I hear her say "Let's go get some food. Pizza?"

Why, oh why do we have to eat when I've just eaten and been? But calories must be replenished, so I groan, "Sure. Let's go down and eat there, then we can savour the other odours as well, hey?"

 "And you can sniff the sweat and ogle the pecs on Nikos, you muscle hungry hussy."

Muscles quivering fly into my mind, and I must have blushed, for I get a poke in the ribs with a toe. "He's got them, hey? I know when I'm outgunned. Guess I'll have to be on my guard, won't I?"

We were not to know how right she was.

We've nearly finished eating and chatting when, amongst the steady stream of people entering the small restaurant - none of whom make the smallest impression on either of us - a subliminal glimpse of something catches my attention. After which my heart stops in its tracks then does a raggedy dance across my chest. Waiting in line to order take-aways is Miss quiverthigh, Miss come-on-the-bicycle herself. With mother, no doubt about it.

Brains can do remarkable things when they want, and mine instantly hatches The Plan.

"Off to the loo." No chance for comment, as I'm up and away like the proverbial bird, clutching my paper napkin. I sit, write my name, phone number and the words 'ring me' as I dribble into the bowl.

The place is not as crowded as I pretend it is, and by dodging an imaginary queue-jumper I manage to brush past my girl, pushing my note, spy-style, into her hand without pausing in my journey or looking at her.

I'm actually more concerned that Alicia is watching - guilt my master - for how to explain my odd behaviour? But no, she's otherwise engaged. Engaged with the man of her taunts, Nikos. He is indeed mucho man, who'd fuck us both at the same time if he got the chance, but he knows how we like it and is courtesy itself. And it gives us that hypocritical veneer no sensible girl can be without. We're not, as you might guess, into gay lib.

Pleasant teasing, testosterone flavoured air, and we're out of there.

From then on my mind is partly demented.

* * *

I don't know many other lesbians, but one thing I do know is that no relationship can have nothing but sex at its core, contrary to the scenes painted by writers of most porno. Alicia and I have been together four months and have quickly grown to love each other in ways that have nothing to do with hot, sweaty orgasms - not that these are bad, just unsustainable - but have lots to do with touch, unspoken words and the sheer joy of each other's company.

So later that night we're happily reading and making notes, sitting at either end of our one table, smiling at each other occasionally, when I'm pulled out of a reverie by my love.

"Hello? You still there?"

Guilty start. Blush. "Sorry. Miles away." I'm never going to tell her where my mind was (between the legs of a fifteen-year-old and wondering if she would indeed ring me), but what am I going to say? "My dad's ill. Maybe a heart attack. I didn't tell you before because it's not confirmed, but, well, I just hope he's OK." It could have been true, but it was certainly the first real lie I'd told her, and the first of many. Shame on me.

Well, she does ring. The next day, when I'd almost given up. The notion that she'll be remotely interested or curious enough to follow up on my recklessness has become an 'ah, well,' regret, but it could have been no one else on the phone that morning, just as I was about to leave for another round of lectures.

"Hello, is that Hannah?"

Her voice is beautiful, melodious, soft and hesitant. It is also amphetamine to my nervous system. "Yes, it is. Are you the girl I saw on - in the pizza place?"

"Yes, and I wasn't going to ring but I was curious, because it was you who saw me -"

"- Yes, and I couldn't resist - sorry, but -"

"- I should have expected - I'm an idiot, I'm -'

"- No, you're beautiful, and I want to -" this time she did not break in, so I go on, "- to talk to you." I was suddenly dumb, but she waited again. "I'm a lesbian," I blurt, "and I - oh, shit, I took one look at you and wanted to - well, you know -"

"I - well, I think I am one as well, but I love, you know, exploring and - um - daring."

"Tell me your name?"

"Oh, sorry, of course. Cristobel. I get called Belle. Um - are you at uni?"

"Yes, and you?"

"Year eleven. " That meant she'd be at uni in a couple of years. "Um - you got any time now? It's just I have the morning off, and, well, I caught a glimpse of you and, well, like I wondered if -'

"- There's a park at the back of the primary school. There? Ten minutes?"

"Oh yes. I know that place." Pause. "I'm nervous." Her voice did have a quaver. "I've never done anything like this before."

Well neither have I, but I'm suddenly like a teeny again, jiggling in nervous impatience.

There's no seats or even paths in the park, (which used to known as Schwerkoldt wood), just lots of untidy undergrowth and straggly trees, and I used walk there to do some pretend exploring - it's only ten minutes away - but this time I run, anxious to be there, and have to find a tree near the main road to lean against as I wait. Not long, for here she comes, same outfit, same bike, and same response from my nervous system.

She slows, stops, dismounts, walks toward me, bike by her side; I straighten, leave my tree and smile. My God, she's beautiful.

"Hello," she says, small shy smile.

"Hi." I hold out my hand.

She comes closer, and I see apprehension in her big brown eyes, but she puts her hand on mine, not shaking it, just touching, and I know then that she's as much lesbian as I am. My fingers curl around hers and I pull her gently towards me, not blinking, just smiling and sure.

Waves of nervous warmth roil through me as I take a step away from the tree and lead her gently into the wood, away from passing traffic and pedestrians, until we are more or less hidden from view. Then I stop, turn, put my other hand to her face and gently stroke it.

She smiles, but does not move. A moment later she closes her eyes and I see a tiny tremor, a minute pulsing running over her skin as she begins to smile. A small smile of satisfaction, growing into one of pleasure before she opens her eyes and reaches out to touch my lips with her fingertips.

I have never felt such wonderful peace flow into my heart. If heaven's gates opened before me it would feel like this; not arousal, not satisfaction, but way beyond all that.

We continue to look at each other, speechless, our minds overflowing with discovery.  She takes a small step closer to me, leans forward and gently rests her head on my shoulder.

I stroke her hair. She sighs. I put my arms around her and draw her close. She looks up, and I see tears staining her cheeks.

Perhaps two minutes have gone by, two eternal minutes, two ages of bonding. I'm a rationalist, but this, I know, is irrational, impossible, and wonderful.

I put my lips to hers, gently, softly, and she responds. The tiniest pressure and I'm away, off to somewhere I have never been before.

"Hannah." Her voice if a mist, an envelope filled with possibilities, and I look at her as unbidden tears begin to roll down my own cheeks.

We are smiling, filled with the love that comes, I am told, only once in anyone's life. Our arms are around each other. We begin to rock, gently, back and forth, side to side, expressions where words are useless.

She touches my eyelids. I touch her lips. We explore one another's faces with our fingers.

We sigh. We smile. We begin to laugh, joyous peals working their way from the depths, bursting forth and reaching heaven.

We collapse into each other's arms, weak, overcome, and in the process of becoming one.

Presently I hear her voice in my ear. "Want to come back to my place? There's no one home."

I nod. "I'd like that," and suddenly take her in my arms and kiss her as hard as I can, wanting to devour her, have her inside me, meld and experience all she does. And I suddenly want her sex, to eat her, play with her, and share the best orgasms ever. "Yes, I'd like that very much," I add, letting my fingers stroke her neck, then letting them run down to her breasts and over the lycra.

"Ah, yes. Oh, God, I want that," she murmurs.

We begin to walk toward the road, her bike by her side, our fingers entwined, grinning at each other as we contemplate what we're about to do. "I feel like a kid," I say, "All nervous and excited. I can hardly keep my hands away from you."

Her hand slides up my arm - I'm wearing just a T shirt and jeans, it's been quite hot - and looks at me, still smiling. "I've never kissed a girl before - or been kissed. I'm an only child, and I found out about masturbating when I was four or five. That's been good, until now. But when you kissed me it was like everything coming right. I always wanted girl dolls, and I've had some really good girlfriends, but thought I'd get to like boys when I was a teen. But that didn't happen, so I thought I was just undersexed or something. But when you - well, when you asked me if I wanted to fuck - God, that was a shock - I suddenly realised that that was exactly what I wanted to do. And then when I first saw you back there I felt myself get all wet and I wanted to - you know, do it right there. How about you? You're older than me, you must know -" She trailed off, not sure how to go on.

"I've got a girlfriend." I blush, now, as I remember how dismissive I was of Alicia, but that's how I was. "I found out I loved girls when I was about ten, when a cousin came and had to sleep in my bed with me. She was twelve and just got down between my legs and sucked me off straight away. We had a thing going for a couple of years after that." I pause, then add, "But the moment I saw you I knew there was something about you that was different, wonderful, you were so natural, sitting on your bike orgasming. How did you do that?"

She grinned, but shakes her head dismissively. "Sure you want to know?" What a tease.

"You better tell me or I'll -"

"- Fuck me? I won't tell, then -"

" - Kiss you right here on the street."

She stops in her tracks, mouth open, suddenly aware of how that would look. Lesbians do not parade their love in public, not like this, not even heteros do it in this town. But she was, as she had said, daring, so she raises her mouth, closes her eyes and leans closer.

"I'm waiting."

It's my turn to feel nervous - my dare has been called. A quick look up and down the street;  a few shops, lots of houses, cars, a bus, but only a few pedestrians in the distance - and I think, 'what the hell' and put a hand each side of her face and kiss her. Gently, lingeringly, and it feels like fire.

She just stands there, letting me have my way, before she pulls back, a look of amazement on her face. "My God, you're as daring as me. That was so exciting." She leans forward and returns the kiss, hungrily, her lips massaging mine, her tongue probing, but only for a few seconds. More tease - I want it to go on and on.

"I'm so glad I phoned you. I'd say things are going to be different now, hey?" Cheeky grin.

"Tell me about the bike?" I demand. "It looks really nice."

"Just a bike, gears, I do lots of riding, a man's bike, but I like it." Dismissive.

"Nothing extra?" Oh, I'm sly.

She cocks her head, looking puzzled. "No, nothing. What do you mean?"

"I was thinking of the traffic lights."

"The - oh, that. That's not the bike. Want to see?"

I nod. I have to see whatever it is.

She goes to a small zipped pack hanging from the rear of the seat, opens it, and hands me something wrapped in a moist pink face washer. Not very big, solid, round, so I unwrap it and gasp. It looks for all the world like a preserved penis, pale fawn, right texture, about seven inches long and one across, pointy round end, but with two thin flaps each side at the other.

"Is this for real?" I cannot believe it.

"Not bad, eh?"

I examine it more closely and see it is made of some kind of rubber, smooth, slightly squeezable, and although I have never seen one in real life, it's straight out of sex illustrated.

"My God, Belle, It's -" I was going to say beautiful, but penises can never be that, so I go on, "so real looking."

"Uh huh, made it myself. Want to try it?"

"Made - it - yourself?" I'm flabbergasted. "Boy, am I glad I gave you that note. This is going to be fun. O.K. what do I do?"

She looks surprised. "Oh, you just stick it up inside you, flaps to the front and back. All the way, of course."

"Here? In the street?"

"Come on, we'll stand in that doorway," nodding to a shop closed for the day. "I'll shield you. Come on, I have to see this!"

Kissing, now this?  Next I'll be doing a strip for the lunchtime crowd. I don't mind a bit of showing-off, but this? Good grief.

My new friend urges me into the doorway - not very deep, just enough for me to be off the street - and I self-consciously undo the zip of my jeans, push them and my panties down a little, part my legs as much as possible, and retrieve the thing - dildo, penis? - from Belle's hand, put it in my mouth to lubricate it - oh yes, I do know to do that - and try to insert in into you-know-where.

I'm still pretty wet, but I've never tried to insert anything with my legs almost together. It's not going to work.

"Pull your pants down further, Hannah, I'll keep you covered."

I'm doing just that when she suddenly leans right against me and begins to kiss me. I straighten from my almost crouch position and she mutters between clenched teeth, "Pedestrian."

Oh shit. All I need. I catch a glimpse of a middle aged man staring in disbelief as he slows his pace - pervy bastard - so I sigh loudly and say, "Yes, your tongue, in my mouth. Come on, tongue fuck me."

He's ready for a stroke, so I hold up my middle finger in his direction. He scurries away, a story to tell the guys at the pub. Well hopefully nowhere else.

Now I'm really wet, my pants are around my ankles, and it slips in easily, delicious and erotic.

"No, turn it so the flaps are front and back. No point in giving your thighs a thrill."

I do, pull up my garments, know that I have a truly enormous thing inside me, and grin. "I sometimes use a dildo," I tell her, "But I've never worn one before." I take a step out into the street, feeling the wholeness of it expanding inside me with every movement, and begin to laugh. "God, I like this!"

"You wait till you go for a ride!"

"Is that - so that's - oh, wow. Quick, let me on. This I've got to try."

I haven't ridden a bike in a couple of years, never a man's one at all, but I know the basics, so I do what the boys do, one foot on a pedal, the other ready to be cast over the frame when there's enough speed. Belle helps, I don't remember how, and suddenly I'm being fucked by a secret admirer who happens to be inside my body. Right up, teasing my fallopian tubes, vibrating my vaginal walls, while the two little flaps pulse over my clitoris and anus with their own quick, soft rhythm.

It is like nothing I've dreamt of. I feel my mind going into spasms, my hormones coursing, and I begin to tremble. And I've only gone a short way, along the footpath, in plain sight of everyone, and I want to yell, shout and come in an orgasm so strong, so intense that my scream would break every glass pane in the street. What would it be like on cobblestones? Holy shit, doubled.

I feel my teeth begin to chatter, and lose control of the bike. I cannot focus, cannot see, cannot sense anything but this wonderful, over-the-top feeling. Finally I know I'm no longer riding, I'm standing by the bike, Belle is supporting me with her arms, and I've nearly passed out.

"Oh God! Oh my god!" I'm panting. "What the hell happened? My God, Belle, you - that's an orgasmer. Oh, fuck. Hold me. Hold me, or I'll fall."

I'm so weak I cannot stand. My legs are rubbery, I'm gasping for air, and I want to do it again.

Belle puts her arms around me and kisses me. "Pretty good, eh?"

To be continued