Once you become a victim, you are much more alert and your naive sense of immortality disappears. Evil can fill your psyche. It felt a bit safer to add a couple of weapons mounted in handy locations on my bike, just in case. The idea of an icepick actually came from a movie, one can't tell that it's there. Just the short handle shows. And a can of wasp spray was donated by the boys at the police department. They figured if that stuff will take out a bunch of hornets at a distance of twenty feet, I can use it to total any asshole that's looking for a confrontation. When people ask, I state it's for varmints, human and otherwise. ...More than one racer has given me that look.
I wasn't hurt, but I was violated. The attack was interrupted and short lived. I was left gasping for air. It had really felt like the monster might kill me. My reprieve had been a runner couple who were too stunned to chase after him. They had saved my life. The weathered looking detective who interviewed me turned green at the bruises on my neck and my bloody legs and knees. I was afraid he was going to puke. When we were alone for a moment, he spoke in low tones. His eyes were watering with emotion. "Miss Raphael, I will catch the motherfucker, and when I do I'm going to call you and offer the opportunity for some one-on-one personal time before taking him in. It will sure as hell be illegal, but it's great trauma therapy for the victim. Your call."
I declined. "Thank you, but I'm sure I would want to castrate him at the least, or kill him which sounds much more appropriate. I don't want to go to jail."
Four days later my detective called. "We got lucky. Due to your alert description we caught the guy before he had a chance to do it again. I wanted to put my nine millimeter up his whazzo. I'm going to make his life a living hell. Take care of yourself, sweetheart. Now I can sleep a little better, and so can you."
Easy for him to say. The incident had demonstrated how defenseless I was. A security system was installed at my residence. Its video was in HD with night vision. There were sensors and a smartphone was my viewing screen whereby I could respond to a home invasion from anywhere in the world. And thanks to Detective Jim, I then secured licenses for the four pistols that were positioned strategically within arm's reach around my girl cave. If anyone trespassed, there would be mayhem.
The physique and muscles for cycling are not the same as running, therefore I had to start at ground zero if I was going to compete. Biking is much more difficult than it looks, and it can be frigging dangerous. Endurance training after my first painful month reached a peak pretty quick. As amateurs, we are all limited by the time available for workouts. The 40 plus hours we spend working per week to take care of bills is the major stumbling block. All I could do after reaching that endurance point was to work on improving my speed. The routine became two hours in the morning which ended up at work, an hour at lunch on the corporate parkway near our headquarters, and three hours in the evening taking a long route home.
Pedaling was at max output. The initial muscle pains had subsided, but leg cramps took their place, arriving during sleep and so severe as to cause me to scream as I became awake. Dehydration was the problem, no matter how many water bottles or sports drinks I consumed. Pill bottles lined the window sill over the kitchen sink. Magnesium, salt, aspirin, Tylenol, Ibuprofen, potassium. But no weird P.E.D.s (performance enhancing pharmacuticals) that some pro riders were so fond of. I didn't need them. I would be a winner through sheer determination.
I was focused and anti-social, to put it mildly. I didn't even have a pet. I spent a good portion of the balance of my free time online, Googling appropriate amateur weekend races where I could compete. One had to climb the ladder to the pros. When nothing was amiss, I would then put my name in as an available teammate in relay type triathlons where they needed a bikeman. That's where I came to know Morgan.
Pre-thirtyish, and new in the city. She was a couple years younger than I, and reminded me of a heroine in a tough girl movie. Her slim muscled frame rippled from spectacular genes with not an ounce of flab. And she was damn good on a bike. Super blue eyes with that square jaw and flawless tanned skin, one wouldn't be surprised if she were getting ready for a climb of Mt. Everest. Her hair was always in pigtails or a competitor bun and the confident hard shouldered girl walked in a masculine way. It was fun to observe all the male and female competitors and their reactions to her narrow posterior. She did not go unnoticed. Not a chance.
We nodded to each other a few times in passing and then began stopping to chat. Morgan had a gentle smile and I found she was mechanically adept. That's when she began the routine of checking out my bike pre-race. After knowing me for only a short time, she had an ah-ha moment. "You've been through a self esteem event. Somebody did a number on you." Then she backhanded my shoulder. "No worries. I've got your back. Let's go kick ass."
A fun girl, she had unusual mannerisms and a great wit. Her voice was slightly hoarse which was enchanting to the men and to me also, but the other female racers kept their distance. No woman takes to being dramatically and continually outshined in comparison. Morgan was stunning and a cause for envy, and she stood out in the peleton with her modest American flag sport skirt. Her humility, unpretentiousness, and quiet demeanor muted most of the critics and that's what impressed me. I had no qualms about being in her company. Ignorant of her impact, she was a sex bomb of the highest caliber.
We soon were traveling together to out-of-town races and spent lots of time on the phone making plans. She was growing into becoming a friend which I was very comfortable with. But we didn't talk private things. I suspected I was not the only one recovering from a life altering event. That was territory we were not as yet ready to explore. There were plenty of other interests to base our conversations on.
Half way through the tree lined course of an early morning Sprint Relay, I took my first cycling fall on a turn in wet leaves which had been unseen in the shade. Sunglasses blind one to traps in those situations. It happened so fast I didn't react properly and my shoes remained locked in. I hit hard on the side of my face and shoulder. Morgan was there in an instant. You would have thought I was dying. Well, I was crying but she held me tightly for the longest time and once the pain ebbed we remounted and finished the race.
Morgan had chased everyone away and was painstakingly cleaning the multiple scrapes on my cheek in the medical tent. Cracking jokes to lighten the atmosphere, she gave each wound a kiss when she was done. A young photographer began taking pictures with a bright flash. Morgan's glare possessed lightening bolts and the camera guy backed off instantly.
"I'm new with Sports Illustrated, and in town visiting my girlfriend's folks and just here by chance. Can I get you ladies to sign a release? The magazine is doing an upcoming article on female cycling and I thought I would familiarize myself with the sport. You guys really look like you've been through hell."
We gave him Gatorade from the bike van while he interviewed us. He was tolerable once you got past the profuse over-politeness. A shy reporter? After he left, we looked at each other and laughed. We were covered in spattered mud and blood. We didn't think much of his lack of confidence. Talk about screwed up photos.
Every Saturday and Sunday we would coordinate so we could be together at the races. And when we could, we competed against each other. Morgan was stronger than I but I beat her on available training time. This made us about even and we'd punch at each other and pull at clothing after we crossed the finish line. "Old lady", she'd yell. "Slacker", I'd respond.
I thought it amusing that she seemed to check me out when I wasn't looking, the fact finally dawning on me that she might have thoughts for women as opposed to men. The flattering concept that a beautiful person such as she would look my way was okay. I didn't encourage her, but I also offered no discouragement.
Morgan and I were improving our times, neck and neck in the amateur races. I once looked back before a turn to catch her on my rear wheel, staring at my ass doing almost thirty miles per hour. That gave me the inspiration to place Third for the first time in a cycling competition. I really liked the idea that I was distracting her.
I had long since healed when I rolled into the parking lot right behind Morgan at an event in Madison. Before we could unload our gear, photographers surrounded us and began taking shots. They were excited.
"What's going on?", Morgan asked them with her hands on her hips. She has this fearless quality about her.
"You haven't seen Sports Illustrated? You two are on the cover! Amateurs on the fuckin' cover! The hottest girls in cycling!"
...Holy Shit.
Things changed after that. Privacy is a thing of the past once the public has their eye on you, and we were no different. Morgan hated the scrutiny. "I just want to ride my freakin' bike. A fan almost knocked me over today. What is the matter with these people?"
My eye was on sponsorship. Our names were out there. The old assault might soon become public, but I was pretty much past the sensitivity. Not that she knew, but my time with Morgan had had a positive effect. I hugged her from behind. "Poor baby. She doesn't want to be a hero to women everywhere."
"I just want to be a hero to you", she said. Morgan leaned back to rub her cheek on mine. "But I still don't like our privacy being invaded."
Girls tend to behave differently among the same sex than do men. The female gender will hug and kiss, even touch and grope in jest. Most men are frequently only physical when they high five or chest bump or want to beat the crap out of one another. Morgan and I tended to keep to ourselves, constantly in a bubble of warmth it seemed. I liked to touch her hair or rub her problem calf when we rested in the grass. And by the little things she did, Morgan no longer hid the fact that she wanted to be more than just friends. Once she jokingly tugged on the elastic of my shorts to peer down my front and we both laughed. It was nice.
I became dependent on Morgan's presence. She was my rock, my best friend and my source of gaiety and laughter. And she made me feel secure. But when alone at night in my bed and touching myself, my fantasies were of males and what they did to me with their body parts. So what of this person who was interested in me in a manner that was different than my own? It was a dilemma which caused me to think further.
I remembered an instance where there had been a group from work who met at a bar on a Friday evening and after a number of pitchers the talk had turned raucous and sexy. Bixby was a likeable and unassuming guy from the Legal Department and when quizzed loudly about his favorite sex position, he quietly answered, "Cunnilingus."
The table had exploded in laughter and the women all cheered him. He hadn't said it to be funny but the timing was hilarious. He did go on to say that in the beginning, he really hadn't enjoyed the oral sex act. But his girlfriend reacted so well, he made it a routine and pretty soon began loving it himself. "I wanted to worship her. I've found if I spend an hour on the preliminaries, a female will then totally let go. She's totally relaxed with me. That's why I call it my favorite."
To say that he became the hero of the office tower among the ladies is an understatement, but I wondered if this might apply to my case. Could I practice Bixby's methods, could I really do that if I had to? I envisioned Morgan and her lips and gentleness. ‘I could always try it, I suppose'.
I only became annoyed with my close friend one time, and then later agreed I was being silly. A girl rider from the rear of the pack by the name of Lanny (We named her Jiggles) Mayer, a tacky showboat who liked to flaunt her boobs by wearing low cut jerseys and rode with two thirds of her butt cheeks exposed, began hanging around us to share in the attention of the reporters. She flirted big time with the grinning news guys who were eating it all up. She had a prettiness yet she felt she wasn't making a big enough name for herself. Lanny showed up at an elite race with a bright white riding outfit that caused a sensation. And it was easy to see why. The skin tight thin material at the crotch clearly showed the ridges of her sex as if she were nude.
Morgan flippantly whispered, "Now that is hot!" She was ogling the display.
I reacted badly to this rude remark with a hard punch to the arm. I was instantly pissed.
This caused Morgan to look at me in awe. "For goodness sakes. Are you jealous? How cool is that?" She tried to pinch me but I pushed her away. She said, "Baby, baby. Give me a smoochie smoochie." She was mocking me, making disgusting kissing sounds. The anger was boiling my blood. I moved off to cool down. I was getting into this relationship way too deep.
Embarrassed and confused, I tried to apologize. What a childish outburst. How could that have happened? Morgan's response was to put a finger on my lips. "When I first met you, there were no smiles at all on that beautiful face. My biggest joy is to get you to smile which now happens all the time. I was not being sensitive to your feelings. It won't happen again. I really didn't know how you felt. Now I'm dancing. You fill my heart."
Oh, brother.
There are rules concerning endorsements for amateurs and we were going to have to make a decision. Not immediately, but soon. Since the magazine article, women's cycling in general had taken a boost. And Morgan and I were getting offers of team tryouts, both of local and national scope, but none sufficient enough to allow us the luxury to train full time. Not yet, but soon. Morgan was dead set against hiring an agent. Unreasonably, my partner was becoming less and less interested in the professional aspect of our future careers. And she was much more shy concerning the scrutiny of the sports mags.
I didn't get it. But being somewhat submissive to her wishes, I could live with it. I was happy to remain at the status quo if that's what she wanted. We were winning. We were well thought of and the men were protective and treated us with respect. And we were together. Being a pro wasn't everything.
Morgan named my only means of transportation ‘The Shag Wagon'. The tall panel van had been my first purchase when becoming a competing athlete. It would haul luggage and clothing, perform as a changing station, and I could also sleep in back if the occasion called for it. After moving into cycling, it became an even more important asset. One could not see what was in the rear, and there was plenty of room for all the expensive cycling gear yet still left room for sleeping. It also removed the need for outside bike carriers which were unsafe from bike thieves. And it had provided a longer operational range, too.
We found that if we contacted the race organizers early, they always found us a place to shower on those weekend nights that Morgan and I spent sleeping together in the van, giggling for hours as if we were still in highschool. I felt safe and warm and content.
The rain gave no signs of letting up and the riders were pacing in the large event tent. A puffed up cyclist put his hand on my shoulder and attempted one of his best moves by whispering something lewd in my ear. Morgan must have heard him because she spun around and slapped him so hard he ended up stumbling outside the tent to land on one knee in the mud.
Shamed with everyone a witness, the guy slinked off in the rain towards the parking lot. The race had been rained out but that was not the big news. The word was out: Don't even think about fucking around with Morgan or her girl. Thor's daughter almost took that dipshit's head off.
Morgan was driving and I was extremely flattered. By defending my honor, she had us coming out as a couple. The rumors had been around but this solidified it. And I was proud! Morgan was magnificent and the time had come.
"Oh, look. There's a rest area. And there is no one in the parking lot." When she looked at me in question, I said, "I want you to kiss me, but I don't want you to wreck us while you're doing it."
She instantly knew what I was getting at. The van swerved, changing lanes to careen into the lot. When the van skidded into a space, we both laughed and I jumped out of the passenger seat to move into the back. Morgan slapped me on the ass and charged right behind me. I fell to the mattress just as she landed on top.
Her kisses were so tender and the expression on her face was one of awe. Morgan was a wonderful kisser as we settled in. She lifted my arm and ran her lips up and down. I giggled because it tickled but I knew she was not going to miss a single inch of my body. I wasn't wrong. The other arm was next, and then she worked on my neck, licking the salt. "Sweaty Betty", she said. "Yum." As she removed each piece of my clothing, her attention was frozen on what was revealed.
Morgan was devouring my breasts while she made contented sighs. She joked, "I want to take these home and keep them in my top drawer. Then I can kiss them any time I want." She came up for air, pulling one of my legs over her shoulder, rubbing her face all over my mid-section. She remarked, "My baby is so shy. She has no idea how wonderful she is."
Anxiety caused me to shake and Morgan looked up at me, resting her head on the inside of my thigh. She was lightly drifting her fingertips all over my legs, pubic area and the opening to my sex. "My baby is feeling awkward. There is no rush if this is not what you want."
"No, no. I'm all in. I'm just a newbie."
Morgan ran an exploratory finger round and round until it gently entered me. She was going awfully slow. She toyed with me forever. The finger soon disappeared to wiggle a bit inside. I pushed towards her hand and then closed my eyes just as she placed the pleasure finger in her mouth to taste me. She said, "I can see that this is going to take at least the evening for me to get my fill. Relax. I want to give you a permanent smile for tomorrow."
My girl was watching her hand as it roamed, pinching skin and ruffling flaps. My hips began to shake involuntarily in anticipation. Every so often she would lick off the wetness. Then she surprised me by rubbing the tips of her fingers with pressure over my clit, back and forth at a high rate of speed. I orgasmed before I even knew what was happening. She laughed quietly. Morgan's face was quite beautiful and serene. She patted my opening as I squirmed. Then she slowly inserted two fingers inside. I gasped but she was very gentle. Something was stretching in there but it wasn't painful.
Morgan had me get onto all fours and reinserted the two fingers. Wrapping her arm around my body to control my hips, she got up to speed with her hand. With the pistoning of my opening, I began to groan loudly into my pillow with pleasure. "My baby, my baby", she said as she fingered me even faster. I was being brutalized but I loved it. When I noisily popped off again like a blithering idiot, she spanked me loudly. Then she watched until the shivering ended. I was not embarrassed.
As I was catching my breath on my back, Morgan positioned herself between my legs. Giving my sex a lick, she admitted. "I've wanted to do this for so long. How did I get so lucky?" Her face buried itself, giving me a serious pleasure. I stretched my entire body to relax, my arms lying above my head in total submission. My lover groaned and made slurping sounds as I widened my legs further. I was not put off as a tongue wiggled inside me. Her face was so beautiful as she looked into my eyes.
Feeling I was being unfair, it slowly grew in me that I had to return the favor. Morgan laughed. "I'm just starting on you. I haven't even demonstrated my secret weapon." But I was not to be put off. It was time. I was ready. I could do it. I had the power to make her happy and I was going to use it.
I climbed over Morgan and gently tugged on her skirt to reveal her glory. It was a SHOCKER! I looked at her face and immediately burst into laughter. "You asshole. I can't believe it. How could I not...?"
"You are laughing at me", Morgan said.
"I'm so relieved. I have never been so delighted to see a penis up close in my entire life! But I am definitely going to bust your ass. You could have told me a long time ago. Like, how did I not know? How could this happen? I'm flabbergasted."
"I was worried about how you would react. I stretched things out as long as I could."
"That's why you didn't want publicity. Or to go pro."
"It wouldn't have been fair. Maybe it would have been legal, but the girls would have hated me. This way, I can be with you and not have to worry."
"Women", I teased. So many little nagging questions were answered now. I gripped her sex and shook it. "For goodness sakes." She was beautiful down there, just like the rest of her. A sculpture would not have done her justice. Without letting go, I kissed her lips. "I hope you like sex, big girl. I have an affinity for penises."
I moved down close to her package. "I'm going to worship you for awhile with my mouth. Don't you dare cum." Starting with her balls, I licked her round and round. I was so happy she had such nice goodies. I soon found that if one uses suction correctly, a testicle can enter the mouth and slowly be squirted out again. If you are able to make it two, one really has a mouth full. Then it's not so easy to squirt them both out and suck back in again, but it sure is fun trying. I jacked her to keep her hard until I switched off and moved up to adore her dick. I giggled as I slobbered all over her. She was slim enough for me to get a lot of her in my mouth on the first try, though she was longer than my experience. The tongue is the weapon of choice when rolling a penis around inside and I watched the agony on her face as I sucked fiercely.
Morgan suddenly bucked me off and hissed, "I'm coming. I'm coming."
"No, no, not yet!"
She couldn't stop herself. Arching her back, she grabbed at her penis but it blasted a string of fluid onto my breasts and all over my face and hair. I couldn't help but laugh. And it kept coming in spurts, making an unbelievable mess of me. I was laughing and swatting her for being such an asshole until the pulses slowed. "Holy shit", I said over and over.
So I did what any all-American girl would do. I began rolling my dripping face all over hers, then her hair, and her neck, gooing her all up as she screamed for mercy. Then I dove for her breasts. I was not gentle, nor was I considerate. By the time I was done, we both needed a hosing off.
Reaching for her dick, it was still hard enough to use. I climbed over her and inserted before she knew of my intention. I spoke crudely. "I'm going to fuck you until neither one of us can move." As I began a rhythm on her, I leaned down to lick her face clean.
"I like you as a bad girl", she said. "What a pleasant surprise." I was flipped over onto my back and my knees touched my shoulders as she seriously began to pound. Her balls were slapping on my ass when she said something very kind. "Thanks for letting me inside. You are a wonderful lover. My lover."
|
Note from the webmaster: authors always appreciate feedback about their stories, so by all means write the author a note if you liked the story! The author of this story: Jeanie |