Chloe's Getting Dirty Again

This series continues the timeline from "Riding With Dirty Girls," and Chloe's other five cycling series'. You can probably get something out of the sex scenes in isolation, but for some background context, you should read (at least) "Riding With Dirty Girls" before this.

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 Getting Dirty Again Pt. 07

'Is a foursome an orgy?' Licia pondered.

She had called me on the Monday after the weekend of the Sardinia and Bradford races, and was telling me about her Sunday night adventures with Lauren, Magi, AND Lucy.

'I don't know,' I said, 'Is there a minimum number for an orgy? I remember one time, when Storm Bertha or something was raging outside, I stayed in bed all day and had an orgy on my own. I lost count of my Os, and I used every toy in my collection Sometimes more than once. I was SO friggin horny. It was... beautifully decadent.'

She cackled. 'You're just a sexual ANIMAL, aren't you, babe?

'Yeah, guess so. It sounds like you had fun, anyway.'

'Oh we did. Lucy's first time with Lauren and Magi. I think she was a bit stunned by them. They are super-super hot.

'Yeh, I remember...' I went into a daydream, thinking back to my encounter with them.

'You still there, babe?'

'Yeh, sorry, I was just remembering.'

'What have you been up to over the weekend?'

'Oh, er, I went to Bradford yesterday, and met up with Maddy again.'

'Did you? I saw that she was third, only a couple of seconds behind Zandi and Nikki'

'Yeh, she had a great ride. It was impressive. She led for a while.'

I could tell it wasn't really the race she was thinking about though.

Was it fun?

'Yeh, it was great. She's very... enthusiastic.'

'Sounds like she's REALLY turned, eh?'

'Absolutely. She's bloody mad for it.'

'Hmmm. Don't let her get any ideas about you. You're taken, remember?'

'Oh, you've nothing to be worried about, babe. NOBODY is going to replace you. You're ma belle. She knows that.'

'You're back with me this weekend, anyway, in Namur.'

'Yeh, and I'm SO looking forward to that... the race I mean...' I was just teasing her, and she knew it. In truth, I WAS looking forward to the race (a bit of PROPER 'cross) but I was almost aching to see Licia again...

'Yeah, right. Just the race. Same for me, of course,' she lied.

She'd actually moved into a different part of my heart now. A totally separate compartment. No matter how giddy and excited I got over Maddy - or anyone else, for that matter -- Licia's place was indomitable. Inviolable. It had taken a while to get here, but now I could look back and see the journey we'd been on to reach this point. This secure place.

Strangely, I think the fact that our bond was now so strong made it MORE likely that we'd have sex with others. It felt like there was no longer any risk of others undermining our relationship, so we were free to hedonistically pursue whatever carnal pleasures we wanted.

Even if I went crazy over Maddy, it wouldn't alter my feelings for Licia. I'd set her apart. It was a wonderfully liberating place to be.

Anyway, we arranged to meet up in Namur the following Saturday, and I started thinking about the training session with Maddy I'd planned for the next day.

I decided to call Molly, just to tell her what I was planning. After all, she'd almost be coaching Maddy by proxy, and I wanted to make sure she was OK with it.

We talked for quite a while about Maddy, her performance at Bradford, and her ambitions to get into a bigger team and maybe start racing on the continent. The next step up.

Molly was comfortable with her training with me, and sharing some Molly-designed sessions, for now, but she said 'She really needs to have a coach of her own '

'Are you volunteering, Mol? I said.

'No, I've enough with four of you, thank you.'

I thought she was probably unaffordable for Maddy anyway. She'd only be on a very low salary, riding for DLR Bike Components, which is a very small team, with nowhere near the resources of a continental team, let alone a world-class team like Febi-SRAM.

In any case, I could just imagine Licia's reaction if I fixed Maddy up with Molly (for coaching, I mean) something she'd wanted for quite a while.

'Will you ask Mari to put out some feelers with conti teams? I said to Molly, 'I think Maddy is ready to take that step.'

'Yes, OK. I think there are a couple of teams that have lost riders recently, so there might be some openings.'

Excellent. The plan was afoot.

Next day, I put a slightly lighter winter kit on, got my training bike out, lubed the chain, checked the tyre pressures, and cleaned my glasses in preparation for Maddy arriving at 11 o'clock.

It was a bright, sunny, crystal-clear winter morning, and she rolled up, wearing stylish shades, a different Buff, and a bright green fleece (her team colour). She looked well-cool, and I broke into an involuntary grin as soon as I saw her, almost like I do when I see Licia... or Molly.

She already had her kit on under the fleece, so within 5 minutes of her arriving we were ready for off.

I had planned a 50-mile route, heading southeast to make a loop around a hill called Tinto, and return on different lanes. It was not too hilly, and I often used it for speedwork or threshold training, which was what I had planned.

Threshold training (doing a series of efforts above the anaerobic threshold to increase tolerance) is usually done using fixed intervals, but Molly gave that idea short shrift, saying 'You don't have the luxury of nice uniform efforts in a race. Every effort is different, so you need to train for that.'

She had borrowed an idea from Swedish runners, called "fartlek" (speed-play), where you picked a random landmark up ahead and then accelerated to it, trying to gauge your effort to get there just before lactate build up became intolerable. Then you recovered for a short time, then picked another landmark and went again.

It was an exhausting session, but perfect training for cyclocross where, unlike road racing, the races tend to be a series of efforts followed by recoveries. And Molly was spot-on; no two efforts are the same.

I explained all this to Maddy as we rode gently out to the curiously-named Lamancha as a warm-up. She seemed to have a pretty good grasp of threshold or FTP training, and knew the theories around anaerobic metabolism and lactate build up. She also liked Molly's theory on varying the efforts.

Obviously I had some favourite landmarks -- an old barn, a bridge over a stream, a lone Scots Pine - but I tried to vary them sometimes, and I got Maddy to call some, just picking out a feature ahead and shouting GO!

A session like this doesn't work well with miss-matched riders but, although Maddy is below my level, she's close enough. I always had the edge on each effort, but she wasn't SO far behind. It was definitely a harder session for her than it was for me though.

We progressed around the route, sprinting then recovering, sprinting then recovering, and I tried to make some of the efforts short and explosive, and some long and sustained, to stretch the limit of anaerobic tolerance. And I also made some of the recoveries uncomfortably short.

About 40 miles in, as we were returning to Penicouls, it was my turn to call the sprint, and I selected a church spire, about 4 or 5 hundred metres away. 'From the next lamp-post to the church. Ready? GO!'

I launched my sprint, but she didn't go with me. She stood, briefly, but then sat down again. I could tell she hadn't followed, so I aborted my effort and waited for her to come back up to me.

'No legs left, Chlo... Completely flat.' She had reached the limit.

'OK,' I said. 'Session finished.'

We trundled the last few miles back to Penicouls, and she said, 'Jeez that's a bastard session. My legs don't belong to me.'

'We'll do this weekly,' I said, 'and one day I'll introduce you to my mountain time trial -- 10 miles uphill to the Devil's Beef Tub... Something to look forward to.' I grinned, sadistically.

We arrived back, grabbed her kit bag from her car, and headed straight for the shower. My cubicle is a bit tight for showering together, so we did it separately. I let her go first and when she'd finished she sat on the toilet lid and watched me -- as best she could through the steamed-up glass. Maybe it was my imagination, but I could almost feel her eyes raking my body.

I knew she had the super-hots for me, and I knew she would probably make a move at some point, but I just kept a tight grip on myself and left it to her.

I had my back to her, just rinsing myself under the delectable hot water, when the door opened and there she was, standing there, beautifully, beguilingly naked, and looking at me with those big emotional eyes of hers. Her pupils were startlingly dilated, and her nipples spoke of a strong, ardent desire.

'Oh, Chloe, I've tried, but I can't resist you,' she said, squeezing into the cubicle with me and closing the door behind her. And then we were kissing again.

Have I ever told you that kissing under the shower is a particular weakness of mine? We smooched deliciously under the hot spray, and my own desire spiralled out of control. She said she couldn't resist me, but this was no one-way thing. I was finding her pretty irresistible too.

Her hands roamed my body, sweeping up and down my sides and pulling me against her by my bum cheeks, and her lust was palpable. Radiating from every pore. Our lips were squishing together, and water was running over our faces, but she managed to utter the words 'I wanna eat your pussy,' and she started to crouch...

I gasped and threw my head back, but then I stopped her and turned the water off. 'Not much room in here, let's do it in comfort.'

We stumbled out of the cubicle, grabbed two towels, and tottered through to the bedroom, towelling ourselves hastily but discarding the towels again before we were really dry.

I turned to face her and we kissed again, like a little confirmation, then I backed up and flopped on the bed, with my feet still on the floor. She climbed on top of me and paid a brief homage to my ever-peaky nipples before slipping down between my legs to kneel on the floor.

She gazed at my sex, slightly cross-eyed, and I spread myself open in a brazen invitation. I was aching for her tongue, but she paused, just gazing. My clit was throbbing.

My phone, which was on the bedside table, gave a ping, but I obviously ignored it. My whole attention was focussed on the anticipation of Maddy's tongue.

But it wasn't her tongue initially. She closed her eyes in a kind of rapture, and moved her head forward to kiss me, letting her lips linger succulently on my exposed, engorged pink. She sucked softly on the tasty morsel where my inner lips converged on my clit, drawing the flesh partly into her mouth and teasing my little button with her tongue. Heavenly.

I was in heaven, she was in heaven, and I just lay there, still holding myself open, making my pussy pout, and soaked up her fervent adoration.

She fingered herself as she ate me, starting off slow and gentle then building up, as her excitement grew, matching mine.

I was so wet, and she occasionally made little piggy noises as she consumed me hungrily. For someone who was supposedly a cunnilingual novice, she was extraordinarily good at it - I guess it just comes naturally to a woman -- and my first orgasm was rising fast as she worked her magic, setting all my sexual nerves jangling, like a sorceress.

I came in a rush of dribbly orgasm juice, and her body vibrated as she pumped her fingers urgently in and out of her pussy, chasing me to the climactic summit as she continued to draw out my peak exquisitely with her tongue A long, squealing fizz of physical gratification.

I subsided into an almost liquefied state, and she crawled up over me to kiss me with her deliciously sapid lips. 'Oh Jeezus, Chloe. How good is this?' she gushed. I've never got this much out of sex. EVER.'

We moved up to lay side by side with our heads on the pillows and pulled the duvet over us for bit of fuzzy, luxurious warmth. She sighed happily and then said, 'When you fingered me in the car after the race, I briefly remembered one of my first boyfriends doing that to me in a car, but it was completely different.'

I turned to look at her, slightly worried about what she was going to say next, but It wasn't as bad as I'd feared. 'I didn't resist him, but I felt like I'd been violated somehow. Not assaulted exactly, but affronted. Taken advantage of... Might be hard for you to understand.' I nodded. It was.

'But with you, it was NOTHING like that. I was almost willing your fingers into me... "Yes, Chloe, yes. Fuck me. Oh, fuck me."

I couldn't help laughing.

'No, seriously. Those words were actually in my head. I don't know why I didn't say them.' She looked rueful.

I leaned over and kissed her. 'I'm glad it was a positive experience. It was for me too.'

'Positive? Sizzling hot, more like.' She turned to cuddle me and we dissolved into a fit of giggles.

'Are you hungry?' I asked.

'Famished,' she said.

'Come on, let's go and eat.'

'I'll just have to go for a pee. I'll see you downstairs.'

I went down and started rustling up some food, but then I remembered that ping on my phone, when Maddy was just about to eat me. I picked it up and looked. It was a picture message from Licia. I opened it to be confronted with a lurid close up of her peerless pussy, held open with two fingers, with a little blue plastic flower peeking from between her lips, and the caption, 'Forget me not.'

Oh my God.

My body jolted slightly with shock, and a little thrill went through me. I loved that she did this kind of thing! It was her way of keeping herself prominent on my sexual radar, and it was awesome that she was making so much effort to do that. It also reminded me what a horny bitch she is, and I loved that too.

Before Maddy came downstairs, I dashed off a rapid reply: 'Would I ever? Could I ever? Never.'

Maddy came down, carrying her kit bag, and we ate a very late lunch, then she got ready to leave. The light was rapidly fading as we loaded her bike onto the bike rack, then she turned to kiss me. It was an affectionate kiss, only mildly sexual, but we shared an extended hug. There was already strong connection between us.

We arranged to meet up to train together the following week, then off she went, into the early winter misty dusk.

***

Namur: The Citadelcross

You may recall from "Riding With Dirty Girls" that Namur was the final, tumultuous round of the previous winter's World Cup. I'd won the race with a measured effort and clinched the title, but that wasn't all that had happened. Licia and I had finally made a commitment to each other as a couple, and it was also the night when Marianne lost her lesbian virginity, coming out climactically to Molly and Fanny.

Well, the Citadelcross was being held earlier this winter -- it was World Cup Round 4 -- and I was pretty sure it wouldn't be as monumental as the previous edition.

I wasn't really in the hunt for the World Cup this year. I'd only done one round so I was well down in the overall standings. Lucy had a commanding lead, and her form was such that only I seemed capable of challenging her, so she seemed to be the outstanding favourite to take my title.

I wasn't too worried. I hadn't particularly targeted the World Cup this winter -- or any series for that matter -- but there were some races I definitely wanted to win, and Namur was one of them.

There are many who think that the Citadelcross, held in the hilly area around the Namur Citadel, is the best and most challenging course on the whole cyclocross calendar, and I think that's probably true, along with the new Willingen race.

Of course, you have to exclude the UK's ridiculous Yorkshire Three Peaks Cyclocross. That race is over 30 miles long and is something else entirely, taking in three gnarly mountains. Being in Yorkshire, it's something Licia has the ambition to do, and I've said I'll join her, but only after we "retire."

Anyway, Namur was amply challenging for now, even though the weather in Belgium had been remarkably good, making people speculate that this could be the driest Citadelcross ever. Being drier was a double-edged sword though; it would make it a little less tricky, technically, but it would probably be physically tougher because you end up riding more and going faster.

Anyway, our travel arrangements were similar to previous ones. I flew to Brussels on the Saturday, to be collected by Molly, then stayed at her house that night, before driving over to Namur on Sunday morning.

As usual, during the drive from Brussels to Waregem, Molly brought me up to date on all the latest cycling and cyclocross news. She keeps her ear much closer to the ground on such things than I do, and has a huge network of connections. Plus, I think she's a bit of a goss-hound, whereas, I'm not. In fact, I'm a bit laissez faire about such things. I mean, the news is often very interesting to me but, unlike Molly, I don't put much effort into seeking it out.

On this occasion she had very interesting snippets.

Firstly, Carmen was apparently back from her pesky groin injury and raring to go. Carmen had been runner-up the last two years at Namur, and had lost the lead on the last lap both times. The first time to Lucy, and the second time to me. She would definitely be out for revenge but, strange as it may seem, I didn't see her as a threat.

If I've learned anything about racing it's that you don't reach your top form until you have a few races under your belt, and Carmen would be coming in cold. She'd definitely be a bit rusty.

Perhaps more worrying was that the Norwegian, Trina Føss, was on the start list. She was a mountain-bike racer with numerous titles to her name in cross-country MTB. She was a multiple national title holder, a former European champion in that discipline, and the current reigning World and Olympic Champion in long-course MTB.

'Really?' I said, surprised, 'What's inspired her to enter this?

'Well, she's always had a soft-spot for 'cross. She started out doing both as a junior, but then decided to concentrate on mountain-bike. I think Namur has always been on her wish-list, and this year it must have just fitted into her schedule.'

I humphed a little. Bloody mountain bikers invading 'cross. Whatever next.

I didn't really know how competitive she'd be in the cyclocross field; with standards being so high nowadays, people rarely mix disciplines, so it was difficult to judge what the relative levels were. I guess we were about to find out.

'The cycling press is full of it,' said Molly. 'Haven't you seen it?'

I confessed I hadn't, but as soon as we got to her house I started scanning. Molly was right. They were full of it. There was lots of talk of how the "beautiful" Trina Føss was going to "shake up" the cyclocross World Cup... My hackles were rising. If she thought she was going to shake up the 'cross peloton, she'd have to bloody fight for it. And she wasn't as beautiful as Lucy, anyway.

Molly, perceptive as ever, sensed my slight discomfiture. 'You don't need to worry about her, Chloe, honestly. She's not going to just turn up and win. The level in MTB is not higher. In fact, I think it may be lower. The very highest level is in the spring classics, and look what you did there.'

Molly was bigging me up, as usual, along with her beloved spring classics, and it was true that I'd done far better than expected in them. I hoped she was right -- she usually is.