Maddy On The Move

This series is a spin-off from the Chloe Lyons series of cycling stories, which began with "Riding with Dirty Girls." Maddy was first introduced in "Chloe's Getting Dirty Again Part 04," so it might be best to read that series first, to get some background, or even start right at the beginning for a binge-read of stories about horny lesbian cyclists.

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.

***

Maddy on the Move Part 10

I was awakened in the middle of the night by the pleasant feeling of someone sucking my right nipple, and I rose slowly through layers of consciousness. First, the dreamy awareness of the pleasure of it. Then the realisation that it wasn't a dream, it was really happening. Then a slow dawning of where I was, and who I was with. I was with Anna.

Then, as I came fully awake, a struggle with the contradiction of Anna doing this, despite having ruled out sex when we came to bed.

I was lying half facing her, on my right side, and she was down under the covers, with her right hand cupping my left boob and her lips suckling my right one. The tee shirt I'd deliberately worn had been pushed up to uncover my tits and she was lying there almost motionless, suckling like a baby.

I gently pushed the covers down so that I could see her, and she had her eyes closed. She really was suckling like a baby, and It gradually dawned on me that that was exactly what she was doing. It was an unconscious, instinctive action, and I realised with a shock that she was still asleep.

I'd heard that some people did strange things in their sleep - things other than talking or walking - and some of them are very weird. It was obvious that some of the things would be sexual (I learned later that it's called sexsomnia).

Was it sexual though? Or was it just an instinctive search for comfort? A yearning for mother's teat?

When we came to bed that night, we'd agreed, quite platonically, that there would be nothing sexual between us. We had both put on pyjama shorts and tee shirts, and got into bed. There was no kissing or cuddling, just a warm closeness as we drifted off to sleep, so I was pretty sure that she had no sexual motive for this.

I wasn't sure what to do, but she seemed quite serene, lying there suckling, and it was a pleasant feeling so I wasn't really in a rush to bring it to a close. I had a vague recollection that it was a bad idea to wake up a sleepwalker so I thought this might be the same. I decided it was better to leave her be. It was possible that she might just stop of her own accord and then wake in the morning with no recollection.

So I lay there, gently stroking the back of her neck, and just enjoying a little extended nipple sucking. Trouble was, it was turning me on something crazy. After a while, I had a strong urge to encourage her to swap to the other one, but that was just my selfish sex drive, and it would risk waking her, so I stayed where I was. Unmoving.

After a few minutes (not sure how many but it seemed quite a while) I began to wonder how long my nipple could survive this strong, determined suckling, and my right arm, which was kind of trapped, was becoming numb. I needed to change position slightly, so I shifted, as gently as I could, to free my arm a little.

Unfortunately, the slight tug pulled my nipple free from her lips and I froze, waiting anxiously to see if she'd wake. She smacked her lips slightly, as if she really were imbibing mother's milk, then her eyes slowly opened.

She took a few seconds to focus, initially on my breasts, and her confusion was evident; 'Quoi...? Où...?

Her eyes swivelled up to my face and she said 'Maddy...? What...? She looked again at my breasts, with their embarrassingly erect nipples. 'What's happening?'

She wriggled up so she was lying next to me and said, 'Oh mon dieu. Was I?' She looked at my boobs again, then covered her face with her hands.

'Shhh,' I said, pulling one of her hands away from her face and interlocking my fingers with it. 'It's OK. No problem. Don't worry about it.'

She was close to tears. 'Oh, nooo.'

'Calm down, Anna. It's cool.' I smiled reassuringly.

'Oh mon dieu, it's so embarrass...'

'No it isn't. It's alright.' I squeezed her hand.

She looked at me with an expression of confusion. 'Maddy, how can you say this? How are you so calm?' I just shrugged, but Anna was distraught. 'This happened once with Greta, my girlfriend, and she completely FREAKED. OUT.' We didn't have sex for about three weeks, and even then she wouldn't let me touch her breasts.'

'Really?' I said, genuinely shocked. 'Well, I'm not Greta, and I'm not freaked out. At all.' I gave her a cheeky nudge with my elbow. 'I quite liked it, if I'm honest. It was a nice way to wake up,' My nipple was still zinging with the stimulation. I smiled at her and she smiled back, briefly, then she became serious again and looked at me pensively.

'You are something special, Maddy. So calm and insouciante. I do not think you have hang-ups. You are à l'esprit ouvert...' I looked baffled and she struggled to recall the English expression. 'Errr... open-minded.'

'Ah... well yes, I think I am.'

It sounded to me like she was better off without Greta -- what a neurotic over-reaction - but I wasn't going to say that. I just pulled my tee shirt down and said, 'Come on, let's get back to sleep.'

She turned and kissed my cheek -- 'Thank you' -- then snuggled down under the covers again, but I noticed she turned towards me and put her hand on my stomach.

I was woken early in the morning, with weak dawn light filtering into the room, to the surprise of her lying half on top of me, and I was even more startled when she took my face in her hands and gave me a big smacker on the lips.

'Thank you, Maddy. You make me feel happy. I know now, Greta didn't make me feel happy. She made me feel anxious, guilty, frightened. It was normal. So normal I became used to it. But I was not happy. Thank you for being so different. For showing me la différence.' She gave me a grin, like I'd never seen on her face.

I put my arms around her and smiled back. I had that early-morning horniness upon me, and I impulsively decided to seize the moment and throw caution to the wind.

I rolled her over so I was on top, saying 'You know, I can make you even happier, if you want,' and to my surprise and delight she responded affirmatively.

'I want.'

I kissed her. This time a full-blooded sexual kiss, and she returned the kiss with equal passion. Her ardour was palpable, her fervour simply thrilling, and our tongues whirled and danced in a beautiful lesbian fête.

Far from the reserve or uncertainty I'd expected, her desire was pouring out of her like it had been bottled up for ages, and now the bottle was uncorked. She WANTED me.

I sat up and whipped my tee shirt off in a flash, then leaned forward over her. 'Now you can suck these and really know about it,' I said as I lowered my left nipple to her waiting mouth.

She latched onto it, but this time her mouth felt very different. There was a lascivious hunger there which was missing from the infantile suckling. This time there was kissing, lip-smooching, and wonderful tonguing, swirling my nipple round and round, flicking and rasping, and it was just heavenly.

This time I did swap to the other one, and I stayed there for a while, supporting myself on my arms, and just let her enjoy my boobs for delectable moments, alternating between left and right and soaking up her attention.

I felt very tempted to move up and queen her, but I also had a pussy hunger on me, and my mouth was watering at the prospect. Oh my God, what a delicious dilemma to have.

In the end, her pussy won because I was curious... Since my enlightenment, I've been truly fascinated by the beautiful variety of women's pussies. So much so that I've become a bit of a connoisseur. A pussy pundit, you might say.

I moved back to kiss her again, then continued down to her neck, and then her boobs, which were surprisingly soft and quivery. I pushed them up with my hands and sucked her delightfully crinkled areolae and firm nipples. Evidence of her raging arousal.

I continued down over the fleshy undulations of her belly to the little mound of her mons pubis, which had a thin fuzz of pubic hair, very tightly trimmed. I kissed it, loving the slightly wiry texture of it, then moved down to kiss both her thighs, which were magnificently full and muscled. Mm mmm.

She still had her legs only slightly apart, just lying there passively, but I insinuated myself between them and she parted them obligingly, drawing up her knees to fully expose her sex to my gaze.

I raised my head to look at her form, her curves and contours. Those thighs, rippling with muscle, yet smooth and fleshy, the double curvatures if her bum cheeks, the subtle swell of her belly - almost flat, but not quite - the hint of ribcage, just below her breasts, which were not big, but still plump and proud, and topped with those beautifully scrumpled nipples.

The female body really is an exquisite thing. I can understand why men go ga ga over it. What puzzles me is why straight women don't -- why I didn't until quite recently. Was I in denial? Or were those thoughts just unthinkable?

I raked my nails along her inner thighs, making her give a little sigh, then I framed her vulva with my hands.

It was all about her labia minora. Her outer lips were subtle, not fat and pouty like mine, and they gave the stage completely to a fubsy ridge of crinkled flesh. Her clitoris was completely concealed, but I knew treasures awaited between those shyly closed lips.

'Spread your flaps for me' I murmured, rudely, and she brought her fingers to her pouting pudenda and teased them apart, revealing the dark pink engorged flesh within.

Her lips were long and elastic, and she pulled them apart like wings, stretching the fleshy hood over her clit and exposing its shiny little head, tumescent and slightly bluish with her arousal.

I used a finger to pull back her hood, and the full glory of her vivid vulva was laid bare. Truly beautiful.

I teased her clit with my tongue - so hot - then kissed it, a long, succulent sucky kiss, and she let out a low, primitive, animalistic groan. Her clit was hard, bursting with desire, but the flesh around it was incredibly soft and yielding. Melt-in-the-mouth tender.

I'd never eaten a pussy quite like it. The fleshiness was exquisite and intoxicating, and I revelled in running my lips and tongue all over it, gathering its sapid, salty flavour. Those inner lips were extraordinary, and she continued to spread them open as I simply gorged on her like a starving animal.

Of course, I made sure that my oral caresses were stimulating to her, as well as gorgeous to me, and her clit and her tasty wet entrance got plenty of tongue attention.

The increase in her squirming and her 'oohs' and 'ahhs' together with her ever-growing trickle of juice, told me I was having the desired effect, and I didn't introduce fingers. Not yet. I just concentrated on the oral. I was in no big rush to make her come, and I could have happily stayed right where I was for hours, deeply immersed in pussy heaven.

She squirmed slightly and gave a little moan, then released her lips and put her hands on my head, holding me to her. It was totally unnecessary (I was going nowhere) but the feeling of her doing it spiked my arousal even more. It was an unspoken gesture that said she wanted me there, that she was loving my oral attentions, and wanted me to go on, and on, and on.

I hit on something that she seemed to especially like; now that she was no longer stretching her lips, they became soft and fubsy again and I brought my tongue up between them, to the underside of her clit, then wiggled it, making them jiggle against my bottom lip. It was a gorgeous feeling for me, and it brought a shuddery 'Oohhh,' from her.

I lifted my head. 'You like that?'

'Mmm, oh yes.'

So I went back and did it again, and again, and again. Then alternated it with rapidly lapping licks of the underside of her clit.

'Oh, fffff... Oh, yes Maddy, yessss.' I'd found the magic bullet.

I stepped up my tongue magic, and now I inserted two fingers and curled them up, seeking for her spot. I think I must have found it because she suddenly erupted in a paroxysm of jerking, gasping and almost sobbing. I could feel her vaginal muscles squeezing, and my fingers were suddenly bathed in a delectable creaminess. Wonderfully lubricious woman juice.

I kissed the fuzz on her mons, over and over as she gradually subsided into calm, then I crawled up and treated her to a wet, creamy kiss, which she returned, avidly.

I rolled over and lay next to her and, while she was recovering, I checked the time. I know I'd just had a feast but I didn't want to miss breakfast. Luckily, breakfast was half an hour later than usual, at 8:30, and it was only 7:14, so we had time for a little more delicious debauchery. Oh joy.

It was my turn to come, and I was almost overcome with ardour and anticipation. I lay there, just gently touching my clit, musing on how I should take my pleasure, but she took the decision out of my hands.

She half rolled towards me and kissed me. 'Thank you, Maddy. That was... Beautiful. And now, I want to make love to YOU.'

And she did. The most wonderful love. For almost an hour, she adored me. We kissed again and again. Gorgeous kisses. She sucked my nipples again (they really were getting to know her very well) and she ate me with a real passion, through two spine-tingling, toe-curling, bum-clenching orgasms. When we were sated, we lay side by side again, and talked.

My goodness, a lot had changed between us in the few hours since we came to bed, slightly warily, the previous evening. We'd gone from cautious, guarded, girlfriends, to something close to bona-fide lovers.

She'd let go of something, let barriers fall, and I was grateful that I made her feel able to do that.

'I loved how you ate me, Maddy. You loved it. Loved my pussy. Greta never really loved it. She said I didn't have a very pretty pussy.' She chuckled, a little bitterly.

'She what? That's an awful thing to say! If there's one thing that I've learned about pussies, it's that they are all different, but all have something beautiful about them, just like the women they belong to. Yours is gorgeous, just like you.' She smiled a little shyly.

I felt bold enough to ask her about the previous episode of sleep-suckling, that Greta had reacted so badly to. 'What do you think brings it about?'

'Well, it was last year. I'd had a few bad races. The worst one was at Strade Bianche. I was doing OK but then I forget to eat and got the hunger bonk. The team car was ahead of me and I was on my own. It was horrible.

'Then I had to stop to pee and the grupetto went by. I couldn't even join them, so I didn't make the time cut and was DNF.

I was crushed. I cried for hours afterwards, and it was that night it happened. It must be because I'm low, or full of pain. Last night, it would be because of the break with Greta, and my poor race...' She looked pensive, but then suddenly brightened. 'But you made it all better Maddy! Thank you.' She turned to kiss my cheek excitedly.

I didn't want to bad-mouth Greta. I thought Anna might still harbour some misplaced loyalty and I risked turning her against me, but it had to be said.

'You know, Greta didn't deserve you, Anna. You deserve so much better than her.'

A rueful look came over her face and she sighed. 'I know. Maisie tells me this, Sabi tells me it, even Jo-Jo tells me it.'

'And now I'm telling you, so you'd better believe it. The last thing we need in our lives is people who tear us down.

'Yes, of course, you are right.'

'Speaking of Jo-Jo, have you ever been to one of her temps de jeu?'

'No... Greta was quite possessive. We never played with others.'

'Shame. They are fun.'

'Yes, Maisie tells me so...'

'Crap, look at the time!'

It was almost 8:15 and we jumped up in a panic. We only had time to have a very quick, giggly shower together, and to throw on some clothes, before going down to breakfast, and we arrived at the table together, probably looking quite flushed. I noticed that Maisie, Sabi, and Jo-Jo were all looking at us with indulgent smiles on their faces.

***

On the plane home that afternoon, I was plagued by great, jaw-cracking yawns, but I didn't mind. I'd left Anna looking radiantly happy - something I suspected she hadn't been for a while -- and that made me feel pretty gay myself, in every way.

I thought of her, sucking my tit in her sleep, and the brilliant sex of that morning, and I smiled to myself. Life was good. I certainly couldn't complain.

When I got home, I had another pleasant surprise. I was sat on the sofa having a much-needed brew of tea, and checking my bank account on my phone, and there was a big fat payment of almost £16,000. It was my prize money for winning the Volute de Ventoux. Gulp.

Amazingly, I'd completely forgotten that I had money coming from that, and it reminded me that I'd also have some in the pipeline for my 7th spot at La Flèche. That wouldn't be a lot, but a nice little bonus nonetheless.

I wasn't sure what would be expected of me with the Ventoux money though. When Libby had won Bilbao, she had distributed her winnings across the team, without taking a share herself, as is traditional for team leaders, but I wasn't a team leader, even though I'd won. I had no idea what the etiquette was. I had to phone Jo-Jo.

'There are no rules to this, Maddy,' she said. 'It's all just tradition. Yes, team leader will usually share the prize with the team, but there's nothing that says she must. In your situation, it's completely up to you. No-one will EXPECT you to share, so it's for you to decide.'

'OK, thanks Jo-Jo.'

'There's another payment coming too; a €1000 bonus from the team for your win. It's just waiting for Steffi's sign off. You definitely don't need to share that.'

Wow, prize money AND a bonus. The bonus was a nice little extra, but the prize money was a conundrum to wrestle with. I didn't have to share the prize, but I felt I should. I didn't think anyone would feel cheated if I didn't share, but it would probably make me more popular if I did. Not that I felt I needed to curry favour, but it would "oil the wheels," and if this truly was a team sport, I really shouldn't be selfish.

I was sure our actual team leader, Gracie, would approve, and I would probably get the benefit of a share of her winnings at some future race.

Both Libby and Gracie were probably on salaries at least three or four times mine though, so it was much more affordable for them to give away their prizes. It wasn't completely unaffordable for me; I was already hugely better off than I'd ever been, and Mari was confident she could get me new sponsors and maybe a salary increase. That was all speculation at this point though...

In the end, I decided on a compromise. I'd split the money six ways, so including Runa, and I'd keep my share, rather than splitting it five ways and giving it all away.

So, that would be £2650 (or just over €3000) each. Not a bad little bonus really.

Funny thing was, because I'd never expected to be in this situation, I didn't have the girls' bank details and I had to embark on a round of phone calls to collect them, and in the case of Mischa, I even had to get her number from Jo-Jo.

They all seemed genuinely surprised I was sharing with them, especially Runa, who you may recall had retired early from the race with a "women's problem."