Chloe's Return Pt. 03

** This is my 100th story on Literotica. it's a major milestone, but I don't intend to stop here. Let's go for 200.**

This is the 3rd part of a story which continues Chloe's timeline from "Riding With Dirty Girls," and "Chloe Rides Again." You can probably get something out of the sex scenes in isolation, but for background, you probably need to have read the other series' first.

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 Return Pt. 03

Groan. That bloody alarm! I fumbled to silence it, then snuggled close to Helen again. Oh, I really didn't want to leave this elysian bed. It crossed my mind that, perhaps I could feign an illness and quit the race...

I ran my hand over Helen's waist, sweeping up to her hip, and encountered the dressing pad covering her big bruise and scrape. One of a number of bruises and scrapes she'd been carrying since Stage 1. She must have still been quite sore, but Helen was brave and resolute. She wasn't quitting. Neither was I.

I groaned again, but now my feet were on the floor.

Breakfast at 7:30 is never a pleasant thing but, as usual, the goodies on the table brought me a little succour, and by the time we were heading out to the airport I felt almost normal.

Today, we were flying to Zaragoza and we were being ferried to the airport in taxis, as our team bus and cars had left hours ago -- in the middle of the night -- with most of our luggage, bikes, kit etc. to drive the 700 + km. A 7-hour trip.

The rest of us - all 120 riders still left in the race - would fly there in less than 2 hours, on a specially chartered plane, and would meet our team buses for the final 40km to the start of Stage 5.

Honestly, the logistics of a race like this are MAD, especially when you think that the other 20 teams in the race would all have similar arrangements. Not to mention the convoy of trucks carrying race equipment etc. MAD.

Anyway, we went through all the airport malarkey, and were soon in the air, and heading north. By 11.30 we'd be in Zaragoza, and a 40 minute bus ride would then take us to the stage start.

I was hoping to sit with Helen on the plane, but she had, of course, arranged it so that she sat with Lucy. They were the couple, after all, even if a rather loose and open couple.

I noticed Trude and Marlen were sat together. Hm, OK. Pam was sat with Stella, and Gigi with Aimée. There was a lot of potential for lesbian pairing going on, but not for me. I ended up with Selina, which was also OK. She's bright and stimulating company. An easy travelling companion.

I wondered what Licia was doing. Would she have brought Lisa into "our" bedroom again? I thought about that, a little broodily, but then decided I was OK with it. This was the kind of relationship we had, by choice, and I knew I was always her number one, as she was always mine. I snapped out of my reverie.

There was a nice buzz on the plane, with 120 girls all nattering away. It was a great feeling of conviviality. I chatted to Selina and thought to myself, Yeah, it's OK this pro cycling lark.

***

Stage 5: Gallur-Logroño. 136km

The fifth stage was just a bit of a filler really. It was a straight run along the bottom of the Ebro valley, almost completely flat and not especially long. It would probably take less than 4 hours, which was just as well with a 2pm start time.

It would take us into the heart of the famous La Rioja wine region, which was a bit of a bummer for me. A nice Rioja tinto is a favourite tipple of mine, but none would pass my lips on this occasion, despite it being promoted everywhere in the vicinity. I would have to keep the clampers on.

With such a flat and relatively short stage, the sprinters would be licking their lips at the prospect of a bunch sprint finish but, as mentioned before, we didn't really have a sprinter in our team, so our main focus would be looking after our GC ambitions; controlling any breakaway, and just staying up near the front of the peloton and out of trouble.

We had two riders on the virtual GC podium, and Zara too was not completely out of contention -- she was still in the top 10 overall - so we would take no interest in the sprint, and would simply try to make sure we didn't lose any time through silly crashes or anything.

I say we would take no interest, but I was secretly rooting for Mae. It would be great if she could take her first victory before she turned 20, and I could imagine Molly glued to the TV at home, willing her on at the stage finish.

Mae was in a slightly unfortunate position really, being in the same team as Marieke Vox (Protime Femmes). Vox was still considered the best sprinter in the world, so all the team's effort, leadout etc. would be focussed on her.

I just hoped they'd let Mae stay in the draft, and not do too much work. If she could arrive at the finish fresh, I could see her winning the sprint. Marieke had already shown signs of weakness recently. Surely it was time for a changing of the guard?

As we started to gather for the start, I sought Mae out for a good luck hand clasp, and then found her team mates Gigi and Aimée and murmured to them. 'Look after Mae.' It was not my business to tell another team's riders how to ride, but I just thought I'd put the idea into their heads, or reinforce it if it was there already.

We rolled out on another hot, blue-sky afternoon for a 4km neutralised section, and when the flag dropped at km 0 the attacks started immediately.

There seemed to be a lot of riders who didn't want a bunch sprint, and who fancied their chances of making a breakaway stick and, on a course like this, their chances were way better than on the Sierra Nevada, for example.

A break of 14 riders eventually got clear, and we were informed that the group included Leonie and Inga -- Molly's other two neo-pros -- as well as the Austrian, Franka Stellner of Vista Maxx, who was quite a dangerous rider on GC, being less than 6 minutes behind Lucy overall. This was a break that Amstel-Rabo would need to control if they wanted to defend the red jersey.

So, Molly had three hopes for victory on this stage; Leonie and Inga in the break, and Mae if it came down to a bunch sprint. For once, I wouldn't be the focus of her attention and I liked that.

The peloton ticked along at a comfortable pace, and I had a nice time, chatting to whoever happened to be alongside me. There didn't seem to be much urgency, and we'd covered half the distance before we became aware that the break's lead was 5 minutes and growing. If Amstel let them have much more, Franka was going to be in virtual red.

No other team was going to chase because most of them had riders in the break, including us; Trude was up there.

Eventually Olga got on the front (you could almost hear her sigh as she did so) and she was joined by Ariana Tolsen, Toya Rennser, and Abby Stockton - Amstel's three domestiques. The pace cranked up a few notches, and the peloton went from a kerb-to-kerb crowd to a long, graceful teardrop.

Lucy, Suzy and Pam tailed their team mates, with others in close attendance, including our team, and it was great to see Helen up here with us, doing her bit. She was obviously feeling better.

The break's gap reached a maximum of 5.20, then started coming down, and the peloton gained momentum as more riders came to the front to do some work. One of those riders was me.

As a GC contender, and one of the leaders of our team, I was entitled to stay in the bunch, drafting and conserving energy, but I had decided I wanted Mae to win, and for that to happen, the break had to be caught, so I spent a little time working to keep the pace high.

I could imagine Molly seeing this on the live coverage, and muttering at the telly, 'What the hell is she doing?' etc. Not only would she see it as knuckleheaded thing to do, but I was also helping to chase down Inga and Leonie. I could almost see her look of consternation.

From my point of view, I didn't see it as a problem. I felt super-strong, so I didn't think The extra effort would cost me much. It was good TV exposure for me, and it was much more fun than sitting in the wheels all day.

Anyway, the gap started tumbling, and by 10km to go, we had them almost in sight. It was time for me to fade back into the bunch.

I dropped back gradually, and managed to say 'Go Mae' as she moved up and overtook me. I stayed behind her, at the tail end of the Protime Femmes train, and just tried to send her positive vibes by the power of telepathy. Not really, but I was sure she knew I was in her corner.

By the 5k to go banner, the game was up for the breakaway and the peloton started its wind up for the finish. I relinquished Mae's wheel and just concentrated on staying out of trouble as all the sprinters' teams started fighting to get near the front. Go Mae.

We swept into Logroño like a host of avenging angels in full cry, building up to the crazy speed a bunch like this can achieve; over 60 kph.

I glimpsed Mae, still on the back of the Protime Femmes leadout train, then she was lost in the general melee ahead and I subsided into the relatively spacious positions at the rear of the bunch. We'd all be given the same time (ST) anyway.

We roared through the finish, and from my position it was anyone's guess who had won. Turned out it was a photo finish between four riders, and we milled around, waiting for the result to be announced. Then the display blinked into life.

1. Mae Snijders (TPF) -- 3:53.03

2. Marieke Vox (TPF) -- ST

3. Jude Choon (TIS) -- ST

4. Astrid Nistrom (TVV) -- ST

YAY!! You're not frowning now, are you Molly?

Mae had become the youngest ever winner of a Women's World Tour race, and I was so pleased for her.

She was in tears, and everyone wanted to hug her, so I had to wait my turn, but then I put my arms around her and said 'Brilliant, Mae. I'm so proud of you.'

She stopped blubbing and looked at me, meaningfully. 'Thank you Chloe... Oh, God, Molly will be so happy,' and she burst into tears again.

At the podium ceremony, I looked at her, up there on the top step, still a little tearful, and I had tears in my own eyes, especially when she threw her posy of flowers to me. This was almost as good as winning myself. I suddenly understood what domestiques get out of the sport.

It was good to see Jude up there too. After her win on Stage 2, she was really making her mark. She was an American (though quite obviously of Chinese descent) who had been doing great things on the US scene. This was her first European stage race, and she already had one stage win and a podium; not a bad first attempt.

I looked at her, with her compact, sturdy but feminine figure, and her appealingly oriental grin, and I wondered... She was on Team Insta-Schwalbe -- Licia's team -- and as soon as I was back on the bus I called Licia to see what she knew about her.

We talked about Mae's win and how I'd played a tiny part, then the subject of Jude came up, but I was to be disappointed. Licia knew nothing. 'No, I only know her by seeing her name on the team roster, and of course seeing her now in the Vuelta... Have you got designs and desires, Chloe?'

'Maybe.'

'Ooo, you're terrible. Every woman is a potential target.'

'Not EVERY woman,' I protested.

'Well all the hot ones.'

'Hey, you're not so bloody sweet and innocent yourself. I bet you've had that Lisa over again this week, haven't you?'

'Maybe ' I couldn't almost see that mischievous little grin of hers.

'Well, anyway, if you can't help me, I'll have to find out about Jude from somebody else.'

'Try Becca, she seems to know a lot... and Chloe?'

'What?'

'Good luck babe.' Oh God, she's such a find.

I called Molly, and enjoyed her excitement over Mae's win. The tiny part I'd played wasn't even mentioned, and that was fine. It was a win for Molly and Mae to savour.

Molly was fast becoming one of the most successful coaches in women's cycling, and I could see her being approached by one of the top teams, to recruit her as a team performance coach. I realised there was no question that if that happened, and it wasn't my team, I'd have to follow her, to whatever team it was.

Then an idea hit me. Molly was keen for me to renegotiate my contract. Maybe I could offer to bring Molly to the team as part of the package? It wasn't something to talk about now, but I resolved to raise the subject with her as soon as the Vuelta was over.

Next order of business was to install ourselves in our team hotel, have a shower, and then dinner. I was especially looking forward to dinner.

We were in the Hotel Siglo, which was a huge place. So big that four teams were staying there; Canyon-Zipp (us), Amstel-Rabo (Lucy's team), Insta-Schwalbe, AND Protime Femmes.

Wow. By my rough mental calculation, that meant a total of at least 9 lesbians, even without including Debbie. I could see the likelihood of multiple room swaps on the horizon.

I was with Helen again, as usual. Gabi seemed to always put us together now. She obviously realised that it was the favoured arrangement. I noticed that Trude and Marlen were regular room mates too, and that could also be a very nice arrangement, I'm sure.

Tonight was going to be a little different though. With Lucy in the same hotel, the temptation for Helen was going to be too much, and I wasn't surprised when we were getting ready to go to dinner and Helen raised the subject.

'I'd really like to bring Lucy here tonight, Chloe. Would you mind?'

I knew what she had in mind, but I decided to be mischievous. 'Not at all, I could quite fancy a threesome with you and Lucy.'

She chuckled, 'No, but...'

'It's OK Helen, I know what you mean,' I said. 'I'll see what other swaps are being suggested. It's about time you and Lucy had some 1 on 1 time together, I think.'

She smiled. 'Thanks, Chloe. You are the best.'

Dinner was a wow, with all four teams eating in the same large comedor, with a long table each. It was lively and convivial, with some good-natured teasing flying from table to table. A great atmosphere.

After the meal, a social group started to form in the lounge. Helen was there, as were Lucy, Marlen, Trude, Gigi, Pam... I quickly joined the group when I realised this was a gathering of the lesbians. We were soon joined by Aimée, Stella, and then... Jude.

'Hey girls. Hope you don't mind me gate-crashing but Maisie told me about your cool little club. Sounds like fun. Can I join?'

OMG. I didn't need to ask anyone about her. Here she was, ASKING to join our "cool little club." I didn't waste my opportunity. 'Yeh, hi Jude, of course you can. Welcome.'

'I didn't even know you were gay, Jude,' said Stella, voicing what I was thinking.

'Oh hell yeah... I have a few playmates back in the States, but I'm in Europe for the whole of this summer, so...' She gave a little smirk. 'Looks like it might be fun.'

I gave her a devilish look. 'It will be. Starting tonight if you want.'

The other girls were all chuckling at my direct approach. 'Oo, claws straight in, huh?' said Jude.

'I'm not one to let grass grow under me feet, everyone knows that, Jude.'

'Yeah, you do have a reputation.' That reputation again.

'Who's your room mate?' I asked. I'd already decided not only that I would, but also that I wanted to. In fact, that I was going to. She seemed up for it, so why beat about the bush?

'Works out well, actually,' she said. 'I was rooming with Ellen Murren, but she's gone home sick so I'm all on my lonesome. You can fill the gap if you wanna?' I think she was as bad as me, or maybe just equally horny.

I looked at Helen and Lucy and they were smiling at how well this was going, and I said to Jude, 'Let's go.' We definitely weren't wasting any time. Our pants were virtually on fire.

We left the other girls to whatever pair-ups they were arranging, and headed up to Jude's room. There was a definite sense of urgency. Partly because we were just horny, and partly because we had another tough day tomorrow, and we didn't want to have a late night. It was just going to be a quick and dirty fuck then get our heads down. That's what I thought, anyway.

'Are you a top or a bottom, Chloe?' she asked, as we were in the lift to the 4th floor. At first, the question threw me, because I don't tend to use those terms.

'What? Oh, erm...' I struggled to think of the word... 'I'm a switch. I love it both ways.'

'She beamed, 'Me too, but I'm a bit more top than bottom. Do you like anal?'

That one was easy. 'No.'

'Hmm, pretty firm on that one huh?'

'Yep.'

'O-K.. What about pee?'

I felt like I was being interviewed. She was a rare one, this girl. 'No, well... No.'

'Some hesitation there?'

'Well, I have experimented... slightly. First time by accident...' I told her about Maisie's peegasm in the shower at Brussels, and my experiment in the bath at home.

'But you didn't take to it?'

'No, not really. I can see why some people find it erotic, but not me.'

We arrived at the room and she let us in. 'You do like pussy juice though?'

'Well, yeh. You wouldn't last long as a lesbian if you didn't, would you.? Just tits and fingers?'

She burst out laughing. 'Oh, I like you, Chloe. You're dry.'

'Well, actually, I'm not,' I said, with a saucy look.

'That's good, cos neither am I... Are you a squirter?'

It was my turn to laugh. 'God, you don't pull punches you, do you?'

'No. No point. Just wastes time... Well?'

'What?'

'Squirter?'

'Errm, sometimes. It depends. I think I'm more of a dribbler, or a drooler.'

'Ha! Sounds like fun'

'What about you?'

'Oh, I'm a terrible squirter. Get me really turned on and there's no stopping me.'

I was finding this conversation immensely stimulating, especially since it was going to lead to the very things we were talking about. My nipples were like bullets, and so were hers. I could see them showing clearly through the Schwalbe polo shirt she was wearing.

Jude was turning out to be a total trip. Confident, candid, bold and vivacious. To look at, you'd say she was 100% Chinese, but everything else about her was, to my English eyes, very American. In fact, apart from her looks, she reminded me most of all of Maisie, and I never thought I'd meet someone else like her.

'You said Maisie told you about our little club. Have you known her long?'

'Oh yeah, Maisie and me... we go back a ways. Right back to the USA Junior Cup. We were best buddies. Even lived together for a while.'

'Oh, wow. So you were lovers?'

'No, I wouldn't say that. We were friends and housemates who sometimes fucked, that's all. Still do, sometimes. When I came over, last month, I stayed with her and Sabina in Zurich. We had a blast... They're up for anything, those two.'

I could imagine... The three of them... What a combination.

'Anyway, much as I like talking about sex, I'd rather be doing it.' She was already stripping, and I followed suit until we were both naked and our clothes were strewn all over the place.

She stood facing me, hands on hips, so I could look at her, so I did the same, and we chuckled.

'Always best to look the goods over before buying,' I quipped.

'There'll be no buying. All this is for free. You like?'

I did like. She was quite compact, a little shorter than me maybe, with a certain curviness to her. I guess her physique was typical cyclist in some ways, with big legs, a slender upper body, and small boobs. Not all that dissimilar to me.

'You're very cute, Chloe.' She said. That word again. I keep getting called cute. My nose is cute, my tits are cute, my pussy is cute... I guess it's not a bad thing to be.

'You're bloody hot, Jude. Your tits are perfect.' They were too. Small, but plump and firm looking, with the most scrunched up areolae I'd ever seen.

She grinned her oriental grin, which lit up the whole of her oval face and almost completely closed her eyes. It was a warm, genuine smile, the kind that spoke of her inner spirit, her joie de vivre. I was already finding that, as well as being hot and very stimulating, she was also quite lovable.

We came together for a kiss, and our tongues danced that gentle, delicate dance that's so uniquely lesbian. Her lips were plump and soft, and I felt my blood stirring. Particularly in my clitoris.

Our nipples rubbed deliciously together, firm little nubbins, remarkably similar to each other, and Jude broke our kiss and pulled her head back so she could look down and watch them sparring as she moved her body against me.

'Are your nipples sensitive, Chloe?'

'Mmm,' I murmured, 'I can come just from playing with them.'

'Me too... Let's do a tit 69.'

'OK, you on top.'

I got onto the bed, and she crawled above me, facing my feet. She took one of my nipples between her lips and started making the most electrifying love to it while pressing one of her own boobs into my face.

It was firm and gorgeous, as I'd imagined, and the scrumpled texture of her areola felt divine on my tongue. I rolled it round and round in my mouth, then swapped to the other one, and she did the same. It was absolutely sublime, and I just lay and soaked up the sensuous pleasure. My pussy was aflame. I could tell this - just this - was going to make me come.

I think it would have too, but as our arousal spiralled upwards, she reached down and placed a finger on my clit and started to trace gentle circles around it, in time with what her mouth was doing to my nipple. OMG. I reached up to do the same to her, loving the feeling of her pubes and how amazingly wet her lips were.

Her clit was small and hard. Almost like a slippery little pine nut against the pad of my fingertip, and I drew tiny circles on it, mirroring what she was doing to mine. This was gorgeous. So many exquisite sensations; Mouth, nipples, fingers, pussy... all revelling in sensual carnal pleasure.

We built ourselves up, and up, and up, until we both succumbed, almost simultaneously, to a wave of orgasmic bliss and we cried out, plaintively, in our intense primal release.

She wasn't lying when she said she was a squirter. My entire hand was covered in her creamy juice, and I could feel it trickling along my forearm. God, I love a wet woman.

We lay recovering for a time, and I licked her nectar from my arm and hand. 'How do I taste?' she asked, and I offered her my fingers to suck.

'Fucking delish,' I sighed.

She savoured her flavour for a moment, then crawled forward to lap at my own dribbling juices.

She made lustful sounds of gustation as she dropped her head between my legs, and she spread her legs wider, bringing her still-dripping pussy closer to my face, as if to say, 'C'mon then.'

Without even realising it, we were soon going at each other ardently again, this time in a full-on, juicy 69, moaning and groaning into each other's ravening pussies as we soared into the stratosphere of sex.

This time, I came first, but I only interrupted my oral attentions briefly, just for the exquisite peak of my climax, then I resumed my lust-laden licking.

She clung to me, arms wrapped around my thighs, gasping 'don't stop, don't stop,' and I lashed that little pine nut mercilessly with my tongue, flicking and rasping it, until she wailed like a banshee and erupted in a convulsive orgasm, and this time I got the full benefit of her squirt.

My body jolted in shock as the first spurt hit me right between the eyes. Hot, musky juice dribbled into my throat and trickled down my cheeks, and I shut my eyes tight to squeeze the liquid out of them. I was a little stunned, and I struggled to get my breath. I'd never known anything quite like it.

We didn't move for a while, and I lay dazed, and trying to figure out what I'd just experienced. The musky liquid in my mouth was normal, delicious, orgasm juice, but that first spurt had to be pee, surely? It was way too strong a squirt to be anything else.

I was reminded of Maisie's peegasm at Brussels, and the matter-of-fact way that Fanny had said, 'Oh, I think that happens to a lot of women.' Maybe it does.

I thought of asking her about it, but I didn't. I'd loved every minute of our sex, and I really didn't mind being half-drowned in her liquids, whatever they were.

We'd made a terrible mess of the bed, and we stripped the top covers off and hung them over chairs etc. in the hope they'd dry a little by morning. 'God, I'm such a messy bitch,' she said, and she was right, she was.

We took a giggly shower together, then crawled into the other bed. As we settled down to sleep, she gave me a kiss on the cheek and said, 'Chloe, thank you, you're a peach,' then she chuckled. 'I think I'm gonna like Europe.'

***

Stage 6: Unquera-Gijon

144km / 1950m of climbing.

I surfaced gradually as Jude's phone alarm went off. As you know by now, I hate alarms, but at least Jude's wasn't too loud, and it was a nice piece of music that I knew, but couldn't identify.

I watched her as she woke, yawned, then looked at me and broke into that beaming, squinting smile. Lovable.

'Morning Chloe. Sleep OK?'

'Oh aye. Like a fossil.'

She chuckled. 'I like you, Chloe. You're funny.'

'Just funny, hm?

'And cute and sexy...'

'Hm.'

'And a great bike rider, of course.'

'Well, you are pretty awesome yourself. Thanks for last night, Jude, it was fantastico.'

'Hey, check those bed covers. Are they dry?'

I got up and felt them. 'Still got damp patches.'

'Just bundle them up together with these, they'll just throw them in the wash. Nobody will say anything, they never do.'

'Come on, we'd better get a move on or we'll miss breakfast.'

By 8:30, we were all trooping onto our team buses for a three-hour ride to Unquera, almost on the north coast, and on the border between Cantabria and Asturias.

This part of Spain has a reputation for being wet and, in keeping with that, the sky was heavily overcast as we headed north-west from Logroño. The forecast chance of rain was low though, and the temperature was only going to be around 20c, so pretty ideal for riding, really.

Unquera is a small and unremarkable village, not even properly on the coast -- it's at the top of a tidal inlet (a "ria") about a mile from the sea. Its main claim to fame is pastries, and especially something called a "corbata," which means a tie. Now I'm a fan of pastries, but Spain is definitely not known for making good pastry, so I had to try one, just to see.

Before we went to sign-on, Marlen, Trude and I sneaked off in search of a pastry shop (pasteleria). We bought three corbatas and ate them while walking back to the bus. We were all agreed. They upheld Spain's reputation, and resembled nothing so much as a cardboard bow-tie... I won't seek them out in future.

We changed into race kit, signed on, collected our bikes, and got ready for the start.

This stage had a strange profile. The first 90km were along the coast, with some small undulations, but then, instead of proceeding directly to Gijón, it turned inland to make a loop to the south, then north again, taking in three climbs. They weren't tough climbs, but stiff enough to disrupt the sprinters. I reckoned a breakaway of decent climbers might well win this one.

Sure enough, as soon as the flag dropped at km 0, there was a flurry of attacks. The first few were brought back by sprinters' teams, but then a group of 4 managed to go clear. It was too small a number to have much chance of staying away -- they wouldn't have the power - but they persisted anyway.

The peloton kept a strong, steady pace, riding the undulating waves of the old coastal road, and the break gradually built a lead of 2 minutes. The sprinters' teams, mainly Insta-Schwalbe and Protime Femmes, made sure it didn't grow beyond that though, and by the time we passed through the picturesque Ribadesella, 60km in, it was starting to come down.

I was enjoying the ride - glimpses of surf, and little knots of cheering spectators outside bars -- and saving myself for possible action later, when we got to the hilly bit.

I was feeling good - better than good - and I could hardly wait for the race to really come to life, which it surely would once we reached the climbs. It was already a foregone conclusion that we were going to catch the breakaway.

We reached Villaviciosa, another town at the head of a long ria, and the course turned south away from the sea, and towards the green Asturian hills. I felt a thrum of anticipation.

The first climb was the Alto de La Campa. It was a steady ascent, graded as a Category 3 which strangely, is the 4th level of difficulty (there's an "Especial" category above Cat 1) and I didn't expect it to cause any drama. How wrong I was.

The 4-girl break was only 25 seconds ahead of us as we began the climb, and they were fading fast. We were confident of catching them before the top and, sure enough, by the village of Ambas, about halfway up, we had them in our sights.

This was the steepest part of the climb. It was only about 7%, but tough enough at our chase pace, and the break's time was definitely up. We reached them just as the gradient relented a little, and there was a collective mental easing as our mission was accomplished.

It was a perfect opportunity for a surprise attack, and Zara took it. We were all off-guard as she sprinted away up the left side of the road, and we all looked at each other. Once again, she had told no-one that she planned to attack. Perhaps it was just spontaneous and opportunistic.

This is Zara's style, hence her nickname, "La Petarda" (the firecracker). She can go off anytime.

We were a powerful peloton though, we'd surely bring her back, but there was a delay in picking up the chase again. This time, my team weren't going to chase -- Zara was our team mate -- and it took the other teams a couple of minutes to get on the front, during which, Zara's gap was stretching out.

Eventually, the chase cranked up, and the peloton surged forward again, but Zara had her fighting head on. She was keen to make amends for her disappointment at Granada, and to claw back some of her lost time.

The peloton started to shred as the pace wound up, with riders in ones and twos dropping off the back, yet we still didn't make any impression on Zara's lead. Over the pass, she was still well clear, and she extended her lead on the descent. By the time we began the second climb, the Alto de La Fumarea, she had over a minute.

I'm sure Lucy wasn't worried about Zara becoming a threat on GC again -- she had a deficit of 4.40 to make up, and that's a lot -- but she put Olga, Pam, and even Suzy, on the front of the group, to work on the climb. To no avail. At the top, Zara's gap had grown to 1.45. She was clearly on a mission.

We were enjoying watching Amstel-Rabo's growing discomfiture; they were throwing everything into the chase and making no impression. They desperately wanted other teams to help them, but there wasn't much enthusiasm.

The gap grew even more on the descent, as Zara pulled out all the stops. To some extent, the tables are turned on a descent, with a lone rider able to take all the best, most efficient lines, whereas a bunch of riders get in each other's way, and their line choice and braking points are compromised.

This descent was twisty and technical, and Zara made the most of it. She stretched her lead to over 2 minutes, and now, it really started to look like she might survive.

As we chased through the Peón valley, the peloton's leading group consisted of less than 20 riders, and there was just one more hill, the Alto El Curbiellu, to get over before Gijón.

The pace was now relentless, and we knew this last climb was going to be brutal. It was only short, but it averaged over 7%, with a couple of little ramps of 10%, and we hit it at top speed.

There was no catching Zara now, but we had pulled her back a little, and there seemed to be a determination to keep up the crazy pace. I was still equal to it though, and I just concentrated on staying near the front.

This climb would usually be forested, but felling had been going on, and the slope was open. At the only hairpin bend on the climb, I looked back and saw everyone strung out and grovelling. I'd been sitting behind Lucy, who had dropped all her team mates, and now I saw that the two of us were clear.

Lucy's gap over me on GC was 45 seconds, and with Tera now dropped, I realised I could take the red jersey if I could get rid of her on this climb. On impulse, I made a probing attack. She stuck with me, so I sat down again, but I looked round at her and the pain on her face told me how much she was hurting, so I attacked again, more strongly, and this time she couldn't hold my wheel.

I broke clear and kept up the pressure all the way to the top of the pass, where a boisterous crowd were gathered, waving flags and all manner of paraphernalia. I kept well clear of them as I powered over the crest and onto the descent. Now, it was a matter of how much I could increase my gap over Lucy.

The stage finish was right by the beach in the middle of the Gijón seafront, and it was 13km of steady descent to get there. I went straight into time-trial mode, but I really needed a bigger top gear. I kept spinning out and had to stop pedalling, and I wasn't increasing the gap enough.

Gabi was keeping me informed over the radio, and I was pulling away, but not by much. I was also pulling Zara back, as she began to suffer for what had been a monumental effort, but she had a big enough cushion to survive now. I was in no man's land (or no woman's rather) and it was frustrating. Even though another 2nd place was a great performance, it wasn't what I wanted. No stage win, and no red jersey.

I rolled into the finish rather subdued, with just a cursory wave as I crossed the line, and I immediately went to congratulate Zara, then turned around to greet Lucy when she came in looking surprisingly dishevelled.

1. Zara Visto (TCZ) - 4:12.35

2. Chloe Lyons (TCZ) - + 1:16

3. Lucy van Barle (AR) - + 1:49

4. Olga Avonova (AR) - + 2.40

5. Elisa Abruzzi (TVV) - + 2.54

Tera had faded badly over the last hill, and fell to 5th on GC, behind Olga and Elisa, while Zara climbed from 9th back up to 6th. She was still well adrift of the lead, but it was the stage win she was after, and now she had 2, while I was still on 0. I was now only 12 seconds off the lead though. Could I pull off the impossible tomorrow and take the stage AND the overall title on the fearsome Angliru?

Zara was overcome with joy at her win. It had been an epic solo break - more than 40km alone, with lots of climbing -- and it must have been very satisfying to make it stick. I was not expecting what she did on the podium though.

As usual, after the formal presentation and the crazy champagne spraying, we all stood together on the top step for photographs, and Zara suddenly turned and grabbed my face between her hands and gave me a full-on smacker on the lips! On the podium. In public. With photographers present.

It was very strange behaviour for a straight woman. She knew full-well that I was gay, so I was a little shocked, but I put it down to her joy and excitement at the win.

Odd that she did it to me and not to Lucy though. Still, Lucy didn't seem to be particularly fazed by it, she just descended from the podium, straight into the warm embrace of Helen.

Zara and I had a couple of slightly quizzical eye contacts as we left the podium, but nothing else was said about it until much later, when some of the less reputable social media pages posted pictures of the "lesbian kiss," and the rumour mill went crazy.

I had to field questions from various people, not least Licia and Molly, but I dismissed the speculation as nonsense. Neither Molly nor Licia were especially scandalized by the kiss. After all, kissing other women is an integral part of my metier, but they were surprised at Zara, and the way she did it, like a sudden powerful impulse.

Questioning looks -- at both of us - were rife as we sat down to dinner that night in the team hotel, but we both showed solidarity, and said there was nothing in it. It was just a moment of excitement between team mates who had finished first and second.

Everyone seemed to accept it, but I'm sure there was some speculation, and some gossip. My reputation again.

For my part, I did wonder about it. I mused on whether it was one of those momentary lesbian urges, that I think many women are prey to. I wasn't going to try to make anything of it - even though Zara was very fuckable -- and if she didn't, then that's all it would remain. A moment.

We were sharing the team hotel, the Hotel Begonia, with Amstel-Rabo again, which turned out to be fortuitous. I observed Helen and Lucy together in the hotel bar, and I made the assumption that they'd want to spend a second night together, which I was fine with, even though it presented me with a problem.

The obvious thing for me to do was to sleep with Jude again, and that was a tempting idea - I could learn more about her super-squirting, and experience it again - but I ruled it out. Two nights in succession started to look like a relationship, and that wasn't on the cards.

Jude didn't pursue it either, so I assume she had a similar ethic, if it can be called that.

I needed to sort out my sleeping arrangements though. If Helen was bringing Lucy again, that would leave me "homeless," unless I could find another bed. I deliberately and determinedly banished the thought of a Helen/Lucy threesome, damn tempting though it was. I needed to talk to them.

I walked through to the bar, and found them talking to Pam. Now that was interesting... You may recall my earlier encounter with Pam, after the Tour of Flanders. It was memorable, and I was definitely up for a redux of that.

Pam is another American -- was there a theme emerging here? -- maybe a touch taller than me, with stylish short blonde hair, a strikingly angular face, very pale eyes, and small boobs. The thing most memorable about her though was her amazingly fleshy pussy, and especially her long, prominent clitoris, which was startling.

'Hey Chloe,' said Helen,' we were just talking about room arrangements. I was hoping to bring Lucy again, and Pam is keen to arrange something with you... if you want to?'

I looked at Pam and grinned.' I'm flattered, and yes, of course I want to. Do you have a vacancy, Pam?

She grinned back. 'No, not yet. Lucy is with Suzy, and I'm with Olga, so if we can get one of them to move...'

'I'll ask Olga, said Lucy. She's always very accommodating, and I don't think Suzy will mind sharing with her for tonight. They can discuss how best to work together to keep me in red tomorrow...'

'Oh hell, could I be plotting my own downfall here?' I laughed.

Although Suzy had come into the race as Amstel-Rabo's team leader, Lucy had now firmly taken over that role, and she was now just one stage away from winning the Vuelta, and wearing red from start to finish. She still had a strong team around her, but then, so did I and there were only 12 seconds between us.

The pressure was really going to be on tomorrow, and the stage was considered the queen stage -- even tougher than the Sierra Nevada, even though it didn't have the altitude. I didn't want to think about that now though. What I needed now was some sexual escapism, and Pam, as I knew, was well-qualified to provide it.

Lucy went off in search of Olga, and the rest of us found seats and got some more drinks. We didn't talk about the race, we talked about that strange kiss from Zara, the arrival of Jude, and how special our little community was.

'It's done,' said Lucy, sitting down with us again. 'Olga is moving in with Suzy right now, so we can go up anytime.'

We didn't go up immediately though. We had a few more Cokes and sat there chatting for a while, just letting that wonderful sexual anticipation permeate our loins. Pam and I enjoyed a few little mutual glances, and I had delicious flashbacks to our night in Oudenaarde.

When we finally did head upstairs, I was fizzing with a prurient lust. I followed her up, almost salivating over how her bum looked in tight track bottoms.

'I find this so very exciting, Chloe. Taking you to bed again.'

'Trust me, Pam, the feeling is mutual.' I gave her bum a little pat.

'You looked so awesome out there on the bike today. I just had to get you into bed again, and I knew Lucy could fix it.'

'Thank you, and thank you Lucy, I'm glad she did.'

Before we reached the landing, she turned suddenly to kiss me, and we smooched deliciously on the stairs, her one step higher, stooping, and me with my head back, like I was kissing someone much taller. I was reminded of my 6ft tall cyclocross team mate, Mari Springkells and her very wet pussy.

We continued up to the room, and stumbled through the door a little breathlessly. 'Whoa, calm it down Pam,' she said to herself, and I smiled. We were in danger of boiling over.

We started shedding our clothes, trying to keep a lid on our spiralling arousal. My pussy was heading for meltdown.

'Can we watch each other masturbate first, Chloe? I need to release the tension.' I remembered she liked that, and it was a good suggestion. Jeeez, we were so horny.

We sat on the twin beds, facing each other, and let our hands wander to our yearning pussies...

Her clit was gloriously erect standing up rudely, with her long, fleshy inner lips seeming to be suspended from it like curtains. An extraordinary sight. Like no other pussy I've ever seen. She slipped two fingers down, one each side, trapping her clit in the inverted V between them, and started to wank it slowly, making her hood ride back and forth over its shiny head.

I tried to copy, though my clit is waaay smaller, trapping it between two fingers and wanking it. My little button hardly protruded between my fingers but it didn't matter. It still felt fucking amazing.

We both let out deep, guttural moans of sheer animal lust, as we sat there, knees almost touching and frigging our clits lewdly.

We were both absolutely loving giving each other this little show and my eyes were glued to her wet glistening flesh and her shiny wet fingers. Her pussy was incredibly arousing to me, and definitely worth wanking over.

Our breathing got faster and heavier, and our moans of pleasure increased as our arousal built, and we went from clit wanking to finger fucking, in fact I was doing both; still working my little bean with one hand, while I fucked my squelching hole with the other.

Our build up was beautiful; hands going faster and faster, eyes all over each other, tits jiggling, mouths open in rapture, the sounds of moaning, and squelching holes, and the powerful aroma of hot, wanting women.

I started coming first, my moans becoming a yowl of intense pleasure as the orgasmic flood engulfed me, and she followed almost immediately, her face screwed up in a rictus of what looked like agony, but I knew only too well was the most exquisite exhilaration.

We both flopped on our backs on the beds, uttering breathless expletives, and irresistibly sucking our fingers, our juices sweeter than wine at that moment. Oh my God, I love a mutual wank.

I wanted her pussy though. Wanted to feel its incredible combination of soft fubsy labia, and firm, thewy clit. To simply gorge on its luculent flesh.

I got down on my knees between her legs, which were hanging off the bed, and pulled her towards me so I could get closer to her sex.

The scent of her arousal was heavy and heady as I gazed at her. This pussy had wowed me last time; images of it, and her extraordinary clit had occupied my mind and dreams for days afterwards, and it was of course just as I remembered it.

She grabbed the pillows and stuffed them under her head so that she could watch me, and I deliberately delayed for a moment or two, just looking, and breathing, 'Oh my God.' Anticipation is a marvellous thing.

'She loves you too,' whispered Pam, as she watched me with an indulgent smirk.

She placed a finger above her clit and pulled up, making it stand up as proudly as any male erection, and just like last time, she said 'Kiss it.' I did so, eagerly, marvelling at its heat and its sinewy firmness. My own clit twitched in empathy as my lips touched her flesh. 'Suck on it,' she said, and I took it deep between my lips, sucking and tonguing it firmly against the roof of my mouth. It was delicious.

She squirmed slightly and let out a little 'Fuck,' as I rolled my tongue round and round it, making it dance in my mouth, and I turned my head from side to side, tugging it this way and that. I could get addicted to this. I could become the clit-hero.

I let it slip from my mouth momentarily, and I rolled it around my lips, as if I were using it to put lipstick on, then I trailed the tip of my nose down the underside of it until it was buried between her fat wet lips. My God, that clit was virtually as long as my nose.

Her lips were slick with her juice and I lapped at them, then sucked them into my mouth, gleaning the nectar from them.

She tasted strong and earthy, and I immersed myself in the scent and sapor of her. A heavenly gorging.

I collected more juice from her well on my tongue, and swallowed an ambrosial mouthful of sex syrup and saliva. My mouth was watering like crazy as I feasted on her femininity.

Her clit was still fencing with my nose, as I licked her lips, and I moved back up to suck on it again, rasping it with my tongue, and savouring its hot, salty, sexual flavour. Better than any popsicle.

She was quivering like a jelly now, as I coaxed her on towards her orgasm, and I reached up with my arms to tweak her nipples, because I know I love that, especially just before I come. Magical.

She groaned, 'Oh, honey, I'm coming... ahh... ahh... coming... coming nooooowwww...

Her climax bathed my chin in watery orgasm juice, and her hips jerked off the bed, again and again, fucking my face. I held on and kept my mouth on her, and the rubbery stalk of her clit seemed to pulse in my mouth as she came. I held it there, between my tongue and the roof of my mouth, savouring its extraordinary pulsing and twitching until the paroxysm passed, and I gently released her as she surrendered to limpness.

I sat back against the other bed, gently playing with my much more delicate little button, and waited for her to revive. I saw that her hand was back to her pussy within seconds of her orgasm. She didn't seem to suffer from the post-orgasmic over-sensitivity that I sometimes get.

'Ohh, baby...' she moaned. 'That was... It was... Nobody has done that to me like that. Not quite like that. It was like you were making LOVE to my clit.'

'I was. I love it.' I chuckled.

'Come up here, I want to look at you.'

I climbed onto the bed and knelt astride her hips. Her hand was still busy, gently rolling her clit in circles.

'Here, closer.'

I walked on my knees, closer to her face, so she could gaze at me, and I lewdly teased my lips apart, displaying myself to her.

'Gosh you have a pretty pussy Chloe. It's perfectly formed. Gorgeous little petals.. ' she traced a finger over them and I shivered. My arousal was still sky high.

'Masturbate for me, Chloe, I want to watch you again.' I was reminded that masturbation was a favourite thing for her. Doing it herself, watching others do it, or doing it while being watched. She loved it.

began to play with my pussy as lewdly and erotically as I could; pulling up on my mons to make my clit and inner lips pout (though nothing like hers) parting my outer lips with two fingers while circling my clit with another, spreading my inner lips to show her the glistening pink flesh of my innermost recess, and sliding my fingers deep into my hole and teasing out drooly strings of my honey.

She was wanking like crazy again now, her breathing slightly gaspy as she gazed, cross-eyed, at my sex, and I played up to her fervour, stretching my vag wide open, thrusting my fingers three-knuckles deep, then showing her the drops of white cream dripping off my fingertips when I took them out.

'You love this, don't you?' Love watching me wanking.' I moved forward slightly, making her go even more cross-eyed, and I slipped my creamy fingers between her lips, then pumped them slowly in and out, like I was finger-fucking her mouth, while rubbing my clit with the other hand.

It was too much for her. She suddenly came in an irresistible rush, sucking harder on my fingers, and that sent me into an orgasmic frenzy. I moved forward again, right over her mouth, and wanked my clit fervidly until I came, giving her the full benefit of my climactic dribble, and leaving creamy white streaks down both her cheeks.

I flopped forward, twitching with aftershocks, but then I scooted down and started kissing her and licking my salty secretions from her face.

She chuckled and said, 'I still think it's a funny word.'

'What?'

'Wanking.'

'We've had this conversation before.'

'Yeah, it still sounds weird. Not in a bad way. It sounds lewd. Brazen. It's almost like "swanking." Showing-off. I love that about it.'

'You like the showing off bit, don't you?'

'I do. It turns me on like you wouldn't believe, ever since my first girlfriend and I did it for each other... It's not my only turn-on though, and I still haven't had the pleasure. Get your ass up here again.'

'You're insatiable,' I said, as I moved up over her face again.

'Look at this pretty little peach. How could I not be?'

She kissed my petals and rubbed her nose against my hard little button. 'Mmm, sweet... Hold yourself open for me.'

I slipped a fingertip into each side of my still-drooling hole and stretched it open, and she inserted her tongue into the entrance and wiggled it while making a gurgly 'Aaaaa.' sound. This was obscenely naughty, and she was loving it.

I spread my legs wider, and sank down on her tongue, deepening the penetration. It wasn't quite as deep as Licia's amazing tongue can go, but she had a good technique, curling the tip to tease me, tantalisingly close to my spot. My clit was pressing down on her nose, and she brought an arm around me, placed a finger on my clit hood, and wiggled it. Oh my God, extraordinary.

Her other hand was pumping in and out of her hole as she tongue-fucked me AND diddled my clit, but she expertly paced her stimulation, holding off her come until she sensed I was about to. Then, as my climax inevitably rushed upon me, she abandoned herself to it and we roared through an amazing shared orgasm, moaning, and sobbing with the exquisitely intense sensations, flooding our bodies with breath-taking bliss.

I slumped forward, bent double, and shuffled back slightly to give her breathing space as we both panted to recover. Fit as we are, it doesn't stop sex from making us breathless. Not sex like this, anyway.

Eventually, I roused myself, rolled off her, and went to get a towel from the bathroom so we could clean ourselves up a little. Showers could wait until morning. What a couple of skanks we were.

Sex with Pam had been utterly scintillating, and I was growing more and more fond of her, but I didn't have the kind of relationship with her that I had with Helen, or Licia (of course). Once we were reasonably clean, I kissed her goodnight and got into the other bed.

Sleep didn't claim me immediately, as it usually does. My internal buzz was still subsiding, and I lay thinking. I thought about Licia, naughty girl, and what she was getting up to back in Ireland. I thought about Marlen and Trude, who had been sharing a room for quite a while now. I wondered whether anything was happening between them... And I thought about Helen and Lucy... Lucy, the woman in red.

Inevitably, my mind turned back to the race. Sex with Pam had been sublime, but escapism was over now. Tomorrow, the Angliru.

(To be continued)