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 8

My God. More than an hour of nothing but eating pussy and masturbating. How depraved is that? How debauched... And how utterly addictive.

I was in seventh heaven. Completely abandoned to the pleasures of the flesh. Drunk on a cocktail of 7 different pussy juices until I was dizzy with it. But I still had one more treat to enjoy: Jo-Jo's peerless pussy.

To be honest, I had no idea how Jo-Jo had resisted joining in as she watched me eat those 7 pussies, but somehow she did. Every time I looked at her, she was just reclined on a sofa, gently masturbating, and watching the debauchery with a look of blissful rapture on her face.

Now though, she got animated. It was finally her turn and, as she said, it was her party and she now got to do whatever she wanted with me.

I knelt in the middle of the rug, sitting on my heels, my body streaked with the juice of 7 pussies, and waited for her. It was strange, I've always thought of myself as slightly domme, but now, I was undeniably playing the sub, and I liked the feeling.

Jo-Jo got up and came to stand near me. We were surrounded by the other 7 girls, all still toying with their pussies, all sharing my anticipation of what Jo-Jo had in store for me. It was a clit-tingling situation.

'Well, that was a feast, wasn't it, Maddy?'

'Mmm,' I murmured.

'Did you like it?

'Mmm,' I murmured.

'I think all the others liked it.'

There was a ripple of nods and sounds of approval from the other girls.

'I hope you're still hungry,' she said, archly. 'Are you still hungry, Maddy?'

She moved even closer. Close enough that I could smell her simmering arousal, and I moved my head forward to bury my nose in her pubes. I inhaled her scent; musky, earthy, raw.

'Mmm, I'm still ravenous... Insatiable.' I inhaled again, savouring her animal scent.

'Oh, YOU can come again,' she giggled.

'I'm sure I can,' I said, waggishly.

'Come to the chaise,' she said, beckoning with a curling finger, and I followed her, crawling on my hands and knees. She sat and leaned back, opening her legs wide and exposing her pussy to my avid gaze, and I shuffled up close and looked at her.

As I've said before, her pussy is a wonder. It's hairy, fleshy, lippy, and wet. All the things I find most irresistible, and my mouth watered yet again as I prepared to eat her. I really was insatiable.

She brought one finger of each hand to her lips and gently parted them, revealing all: Her glistening pink inner flaps, long, fleshy, and flushed with arousal. Her engorged, swollen clit, poking out rudely, as if to say 'suck me.' Her river of desire, trickling viscidly into her bum crack, and her pussy hole, winking as she tensed her inner muscles to tease me.

I took all this in in the scant few seconds before I buried my face in her bush and my tongue in her dribbling hole.

'Ooohh,' she moaned, as I began to eat her with a passion. Far from being sated from an overload of pussy, I was even more ravenous. There was something about Jo-Jo that just drove me crazy with desire.

It had been a novel experience to eat Tilde's dainty, bald pussy, but THIS was what really got my juices flowing. Jo-Jo's pussy was just MADE for gorging.

I nuzzled my nose up against her hard, sinewy clit, and slurped her syrupy entrance, thrilled by her copious liquefaction, and the other girls gathered around us to watch me eat her raveningly.

'Ohh, she really loves it,' said Nadia, and she wasn't wrong.

Jo-Jo's arousal was sky-high, so it wasn't long before I could sense she was close; 'Oh, oh, yes Maddy, flick my clit with your tongue... Faster, faster... Yeah, like that, like that... Oh, oh, Oow, oow, oow... Ahhhhhh!'

There were empathic moans from Ava and Lettie, as they reached their own climaxes, and I just pressed my face into Jo-Jo's bush and fluttered my tongue on her clit for all I was worth until I sensed her orgasm was waning, then I eased off and just ran lingual circles around the edge of her entrance, tasting her orgasm juice and savouring the unique combination of wateriness and oiliness, and the intensely sapid flavour. Simply sublime.

I flaked out on the rug, overwhelmed by lubricious indulgence, with my fingers seeking one last orgasm. I lay there, eyes closed, fingers buried deep, subsumed in carnal abandon, and I was shocked to feel someone climbing on top of me. It was Ava, moving up over my face to queen me. Oo, well, alright then...

Buried in Ava's bountiful flesh, I was oblivious to the fact that Runa was now queening Jo-Jo, Maisie and Sabi were in a steamy 69, and Lettie was getting some serious attention from Tilde and Nadia. It looked like it had turned into an organic free for all in the end, after all.

Some time later, we were all sprawled out, semi-insensible on the sofas, the floor, and the Chaise. The air was hot and heavy with a frowst of female fluids, and I was bathed in perspiration and pussy juice.

One by one, we roused ourselves, showered, and dressed, then Jo-Jo made coffee and we sat and talked. An overwhelming endorphin-fuelled euphoria was the foremost feeling. A fuzzy afterglow.

There was a lot of rude jollity as we talked about our favourite bits, paid each other gushing compliments, and eulogised over the whole experience, and it took a while before we began to calm.

I noticed the folded camera tripod, lying on the desk in the corner, and I said, 'Have you ever thought of filming these playtimes, Jo-Jo? I bet they'd go down a storm on the internet.'

Maisie and Sabi were shaking their heads emphatically as Jo-Jo said, 'Not for the internet, no. Some of our faces are far too well-known. Imagine the scandal: "Top female cyclists caught in lesbian sex orgy."

'Oh aye, I never thought of that,' I said, feeling foolish.

'We do film some things sometimes...' she pulled a fruity expression, '...but only for our own private pleasure.'

'Yeah, there's other uses for filming, besides just posting it on the web,' said Maisie. 'If you set up a camera to shoot a super-zoomed close up, and connect it to a monitor, then place the monitor close to you, you can get a REALLY close view of your partner eating your cooch, especially on a big-ass TV, like this one of Jo-Jo's, and trust me, that's fucking HOT!'

Jo-Jo must have seen me eyeing the TV, and she said, 'Would you like to see some of the stuff we've shot?'

'I can't, I have a plane to catch. Another time though, definitely.'

'That's probably better, actually. They are best viewed BEFORE the temps de jeu -- as a warm up,' she grinned.

'Well, we had better get home,' said Maisie. 'I'm ravenous now, and Sabi says she'll cook me something special. She's irresistible in so many ways.'

On by one, people donned their coats and departed, but I lingered until there was only Jo-Jo, Runa, and me. I checked my watch to make sure I was OK for time to catch my evening flight to Edinburgh, but I was enjoying the chat and didn't wasn't to leave until I had to.

Runa and Jo-Jo sat together opposite me, and they had never looked more like a couple.

'Are you two really not together?' I said.

'No, we aren't,' said Runa. They smiled at each other. 'I am staying here tonight though.'

'Really?' I said. 'Do you still have an appetite after all that??'

She chuckled. ' Not for sex, but I do stay here sometimes, just for the closeness.'

'Ah,' I nodded.

It was strange, their relationship. Pretty much indistinguishable from being a couple in an open marriage, but they refused to call it that. Well, it was their prerogative, I suppose.

Jo-Jo called a taxi for me, and half an hour later I was on my way to the airport. I knew I would be back. Again and again.

***

The inner glow of satiety lasted almost the whole week, and I did some wonderfully smooth relaxed training rides. On the Wednesday, Chloe came over and I showed her one of my favourite routes, with a brilliant cafe stop at Lochbennie Brews, where they do the BEST lemon meringue pie.

She was wide-eyed when I told her about Jo-Jo's temps de jeu, and I could tell she was pretty envious. I promised to try to get her an invite.

'You really are full of surprises, Maddy,' she said with a little shake of her head. 'Just a few weeks ago, you were in the sexual doldrums, and now you're the freest of the free girls.'

'I know, and isn't it just fucking pure dead brilliant?' I beamed. 'It's mostly your fault of course. If you hadn't given me such a fantastic intro to being lez, the whole thing might never have happened,'

'Oh, I think it would, or some version of it, anyway.'

I leaned across the table and kissed her forehead as she was shovelling another forkful of lemon meringue into her mouth, and she smiled delightfully with her mouth full. God, I love Chloe.

Strong as my affection for her is though, there was no sex between us that day, maybe because my libido was still regenerating slightly after the weekend.

I made her a late lunch then helped her to take the wheels off her bike so she could cram it into her little car. 'You really need to get a bike rack, Chloe,' I said.

'Yeh, but I hardly ever need to transport my bikes. Someone usually does it for me.' She grinned, impishly.

'It would be handy for when you come here to train with me though, and they're only cheap.'

'Yeah, might get one. It's a pain having to take the wheels off.'

'Anyway, good luck at the weekend.'

'Yeah, you too.'

We cheek kissed, then I watched her drive away, with a sigh...

***

That weekend, we were doing two very different races. Chloe was in The Netherlands, doing the Amstel Gold race, which she'd never done before, while I was going to the south of France to take part in a brand new race, "Le Volute de Ventoux," another women-only race, and the brainchild of French cycling legend Julie Bobet.

Bobet had been France's undisputed number one in the 1980s, but was now more famous for having been instrumental in the resurrection of the Tour de France Femmes.

Now, she was inaugurating this Mont Ventoux race, close to where she was born, in Carpentras. She had grown up in sight of the mountain, and said she'd always dreamed of a women's Mont Ventoux race. Now, it was coming to fruition. It was only a lower-tier event in its first year, but was aiming to become a World Tour race at some point, and looking at the course I thought it was sure to become a classic event.

The course began with a clockwise circuit of the mountain, starting in Malaucène, but just as the circuit was nearing completion, just before Bédoin, it turned north and made an ascent of the classic route, one of the most iconic climbs in all of cycling, to finish at the famous summit, 1900 metres high. It was just over 100km, but contained 2800m of ascent, and it formed a kind of spiral shape on the map, hence the name, meaning "the whirl of Ventoux."

Even though Chloe's Amstel Gold was a much higher-status World Tour event, I thought this race looked way more interesting, and I was looking forward to it immensely. Even Chloe had said she'd rather do it than the Amstel Gold.

'That race would be perfect for me, with all that climbing. The Amstel is flat, and almost sure to be a bunch sprint. Borrring'

She had pulled a vexed expression, and I sympathised, but I seemed to be pretty handy at climbing too. I knew I could do a good ride on the Ventoux course.

On the Friday morning, when I was packing my case, I got a phone call from Jo-Jo, which was unusual and unexpected. Libby had come down with a stomach bug and wouldn't travel to the race.

'Oh, that's a bummer,' I said, 'So who's gonna be leader?'

'Well I was going to go with Runa, but I've decided to just take both Portia and Mischa, and not to nominate a leader. Runa is most senior, but I know she doesn't like the leader role.'

I pondered. 'So what will this mean? What's the plan?'

'We shall play it by the ear. We know at some point it will be every girl for herself on that climb, whether the peloton arrives at Bédoin together, or if there's a break. If you get the chance to join a break, you should take it.'

Wow. Off the leash already. A free agent.

'We are in this race mainly just to be part of it,' she continued. 'There will be a lot of attention focused on the race, and any exposure for the team is good, so if you can get a few kilomeres in a break, that would be super.'

Little did I know I'd get more kilometres of exposure than I could have dreamed.

Before I left for the airport, I checked my bank account, to see if my salary had been paid in, and I had to sit down. The payments had been converted to sterling, so they looked a little less than the original euro amounts, but they still made me gulp. I expected the monthly salary payment of almost 4 grand, but there were also two payments of £500, and £400, for travel expenses to Bilbao and Pisa, though it hadn't cost me anything like that, and even better, a payment of over £3000, from Libby. My share of her prize money for the Bilbao victory. Ah, Libby... Shame she was missing this one, but she'd be back strong as ever. Of that, I was sure.

I did a quick tot-up; a grand total of £7884. Wowee, that was more than four times what I was getting from DLR Bike Components. I know the prize money wasn't a regular thing, but even so, this was riches beyond my wildest dreams.

Of course, I was singing as I drove down across the Firth to the airport; 'Life is a rollercoaster, you just gotta ride it. Our love is a mystery, girl, let's get inside it.'

I was as happy as a lark as I went through all the usually-tedious airport formalities. I was full of beaming smiles, and it's amazing how many smiles you get back when you smile at people. A big black security guard had such dazzling white teeth his grin lit up the entire terminal building.

The flight to Marseille took about two and a half hours, and by 3pm, I was boarding the team bus. 'Hi girls, I beamed,' and we all wiggled our va va violet nails at each other.

Runa had really started something with the team nails, and we had all embraced it with enthusiasm, but I couldn't help noticing that Runa herself seemed a little subdued. Not her usual self at all. I soon found out the reason when I quietly asked her if something was wrong.

'It's my period, Maddy. It's really heavy. I've never had pains like this before.'

'Oh, jeez, Runa. Have you taken something?' She nodded. 'Does Jo-Jo know?'

'Yes, she says I can skip the race if I want to, but I really want to do it. I'll see how it goes in the morning.' She smiled an unusually weak smile.

Bummer.

Although the race started in Malaucène, the race HQ was in Bédoin, which is a slightly bigger place, and that's where our team hotel was. I was down to share with Runa again, but it was looking like sex was firmly off the menu, which may not have been a bad thing before the race.

I really felt for her. Having a heavy period is never fun, and I'd heard that, at her age (almost 40), periods can do weird things; sometimes really light, sometimes really heavy. It looked like she'd been unlucky.

We were a little subdued over dinner. We had no particular plan, and we certainly weren't at our strongest as a team, but Jo-Jo said we should 'Just go out there and enjoy the race... As much as you can.' She glanced at Runa.

I looked at the other girls; Francine, small, quiet and a little shy, but a surprisingly strong rider, especially on hilly terrain. Sian, with her glorious red hair and green eyes, a solid team player on the bike, and sometimes a bit of a wag, with her dry sense of humour. And the two youngsters; Mischa, tall and strong with rosy cheeks, and rather an unknown quantity as a rider, and Portia, gay and intriguing, compact and curvy (for a cyclist) with that jumble of dark curls on her head and, as we saw at the Trofeo Oro, an eye for an opportunistic attack.

I felt a lot of sorority with these girls already. We were a little below our full strength, but still a team to be reckoned with. I thought we could still show the peloton a thing or two. Turned out, I was right.

We retired to the lounge, but a little later, Runa went up for an early night. I lingered a little longer, sharing the excited chatter about the course, but soon I too was drawn upstairs.

I had no sexual intentions, but I still got into Runa's bed with her. 'Maddy?' she murmured, quizzically.

'Shh,' I said, as I clicked off the light and snuggled up to her back.

***

Race Day

I was woken by Runa getting out of bed to go to the bathroom, and I lay on my back and looked at the sunlit curtains. It seemed like a bright morning, just as forecast, and I yawned and stretched. I felt good, fit, rested and relaxed. This was going to be a good day.

She emerged, looking tall, toned, gorgeous, but serious, and I felt a little surge of affection, and sympathy. 'Morning, Ru, how are you?' I said, deliberately making a rhyme.

A flicker of a smile crossed her lips. 'Oh, not bad,' she sighed... 'Been better, I guess.' She looked at me. 'Thanks for sleeping with me, it was... Comforting.'

'You're welcome. I enjoyed it too.' I smiled.

Breakfast was typically French, with pastries, bread, jam, honey, fruit, and of course, croissants and coffee. I love all that stuff, so I had no trouble fuelling myself fully for the race. I felt ready to tackle "Le Géant de Provence," the epithet that's always applied to Mont Ventoux.

We boarded the team bus for the 20 minute ride to the start at the Stade de Malaucène, and it was an absolutely glorious morning, with sunshine, fluffy white clouds, and a lovely fresh chill in the air. A morning made for cycling.

The drive to Malaucène took us over a small pass called the Col de la Madeleine (not to be confused with the much bigger Col de la Madeleine in the French Alps). I liked it because it carried my name, and I smiled to myself as we passed the sign at the top.

I reflected that I liked my name. I liked the femininity of it, and the fact that it had a French ring to it. I also liked the shortened, version that I always go by, and the alliteration with my surname. And yet, I always have an inner smile when my parents call me by my full name, even when they're telling me off: "Madeleine, shut that door, your lettin the heat oot!"

It was a measure of how relaxed I was, that I could drift off into musing like this, rather than obsessively worrying about the race, and I was still in a bit of a daydream as we pulled into the huge car park by the Stade de Malaucène.

Suddenly, we were thrown into a hubbub of earnest activity, with bikes, rollers, gazebos, and Onna, anxiously rushing about making sure we all had everything we needed; gels, chilled drink bottles with, in my case, one containing energy drink, and one with plain water, tinted lenses in our glasses etc etc.

Sign on, fist bump about a hundred girls, cursory warm up on rollers, helmet on, fingerless summer gloves on, guzzle some more electrolyte drink, then roll off to the start with my purple team.

We all had our purple bikes, purple skinsuits, purple trim on our helmets, and our purple-painted nails, but Sian upstaged us all with - purple lenses in her cycling glasses! 'C'mon girls, if yer gonna do purple, do it properly,' she grinned. I was absolutely certain that, at the next race, we'd ALL have purple lenses...