Chloe's Sweet Pink Pt. 02

This is part 2 of a series which continues Chloe's timeline from "Riding With Dirty Girls," "Chloe Rides Again," and "Chloe's Return." You can probably get something out of the sex scenes in isolation, but for background, you ideally 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 Sweet Pink Pt. 02

Green. Why is it always regarded as the colour of envy? The "green-eyed monster" etc? Someone told me it originated from a Shakespeare quote, but why green? I still don't know.

Anyway, envy is something that lurks in the shadows when you have a promiscuous lifestyle like I -- and the other free girls -- have. The green-eyed monster stalks us all the time - we're only human after all -- and it must be avoided, or kept at a distance at least. Otherwise, the whole free girls vibe would be lost and, as any girl knows, you don't want to lose your vibe.

I think Licia and I have become quite secure and comfortable with each other now, and our little extracurricular liaisons are seen purely as a bit of frivolous fun. Insouciant and inconsequential.

That's not to say I don't have serious affection for my free girlfriends, even a kind of love for some of them, like Helen, and Molly, but I keep them in their place. My home bed is always with Licia.

I have to admit though, I was envious of her girly night out with Lisa and Sian at the lesbian rooftop party. It wasn't a green-eyed monster kind of jealousy. It didn't burn and simmer like that, it was more a feeling of missing out; I wanted to go to the lesbian party, I wanted to get to know Sian better, and I wanted to indulge in a debauched sex romp, which was how my dirty mind imagined the evening would end.

Then I walked into the dining room and saw Helen and Marlen... Well, I may have been missing out on the doings in Dublin, but I could possibly find a little compensation right here.

They were sitting very close to each other, and I could just tell there was an amorous charge passing between them. They weren't actually touching each other, but there was no mistaking the intensity of their conversation (whatever it was) or the deep affection in their lengthy eye-contacts. It occurred to me that Lucy needed to be careful if she wanted to avoid losing Helen to Marlen.

I sat directly opposite them and gave them a long and very saucy look. They stopped talking, and tore their eyes away from each other to look at me and I pouted suggestively.

'Is there something on your mind, Chloe?' said Helen, smirking.

'Oh yes. You bet there is. I have a feeling that you are going to ask if you can bring Marlen to the room tonight...' They looked at each other and smiled, and they didn't deny it. 'Well, I say Marlen is very welcome, as long as you aren't planning to kick me out.'

They chuckled and shook their heads. 'Oh Chloe, you are so cheeeky!' said Marlen.

'Of course you can join us, Chloe,' said Helen with a smile. 'That will be fun.'

We didn't take the conversation any further because the table was filling up and we didn't think the straight girls would understand, or rather, they WOULD understand, but we didn't want to put them off their dinners. Straight women can be weird like that.

I ate with gusto, as always, and I had two appetites raging within me, both of which were going to be satisfied before the night was done. I kept looking at them, and our eyes often met. The anticipation of sizzling sex was heavy between us, and I swear Marlen blushed a couple of times, just because of the fruity looks I gave her.

We could hardly wait to head up to the room, but we didn't want to make it TOO obvious, so we had dessert, then coffee, then had a drink with the girls. By 9pm, our libidos were bouncing off the ceiling, and Helen finally said 'Shall we go up?' My glass was on the bar in a flash, and I was still swallowing fruit juice as we headed for the stairs.

As you may recall, Marlen and Helen are old flames, having had an illicit fling 8 years before, when Marlen was still very young. A fling that had almost got them into trouble. Now though, at 26 and 34, there were no such concerns. In fact, at 22, I was the youngster in this triumvirate.

It was a position I relished, to be honest. I always think we only start to reach our sexual peak in our thirties, and Helen, Molly, Marianne, Lucy, Debbie - all these thirty-something women -- are incredibly sexy, and sexual. It almost makes me look forward to being that age myself.

Anyway, a threesome with Helen and Marlen was a mouthwatering prospect, and there was something especially exciting about going to bed with those two. I liked the dynamic between them. Because of their history, there was a comfort and confidence. They knew each other's likes, and they weren't bashful about saying exactly what they wanted. I guess Licia and I are becoming like that.

We got into the room and started stripping. There were no stripteases, or underwear fetishism, but we were all watching each other appreciatively. Helen's wonderfully soft and feminine form was of course very familiar to me, but it was lovely to reacquaint myself with Marlen.

She's tall and slender, yet shapely, a little bit like Molly actually, which I hadn't quite realised before. She's not quite so lean and toned as Molly, surprisingly. Her stomach is not quite so rippled, and her legs are less muscular, but her breasts are slightly bigger -- and amazingly perky. They remind me a little of Licia's; rude and firm.

I sat on one of the beds and watched them kiss. As you know, I'm besotted with Helen's kisses and it was fascinating to be an onlooker. Watching them smooching, their twirling tongues dancing erotically, was incredibly horny, and my fingers were soon busy in my honeypot.

I had two fingers writhing, deep inside, while simultaneously thumbing my clit mercilessly. There was no delaying or holding back. I wanted to come as quickly as possible, and with Helen and Marlen kissing and fingering each other right there in front of me, it wasn't going to take long.

I think they'd become so absorbed in each other that they'd almost forgotten I was there, but they were reminded of my presence when I gave a plaintive little orgasmic whimper.

'Oh my, Chloe. I guess you needed that, hm?' said Helen as they came to sit each side of me.

'Oh fuck, yes,' I gasped. 'Jeeez you two are so hot together.

I threw myself back on the bed, like I was swooning, and said, melodramatically, 'Take me, I'm yours. Do what you like to me. Use me...'

They chuckled. 'Well, if you insist,' said Helen.

'Sit on her face, Helen,' said Marlen, 'I want to watch you.'

Helen climbed on top of me, and I tucked my arms between those delectable thighs and welcomed her. It had been a while since I'd been queened by Helen and I was craving it. 'Oh, yeah, Helen. Fuck me' '

Her plump pussy, with its newly-sparse pubes, moved up onto my lips and I just lost myself in the sublime pleasure of squishy wet cunt flesh, thewy thighs, and fubsy bum cheeks embracing my chin.

Marlen lay close, head propped on her elbow, gazing avidly as she slowly pumped her fingers in and out of her perfect pussy.

We were quite close to the bed's headboard, and Helen took hold of it and moved into a squatting position, then started slowly fucking my face. This was not her usual style. It was much more sassy and provocative, and I knew she was doing it for Marlen's benefit. Putting on a show. Go Helen, I thought, as she ground her clit on my nose.

It definitely had the desired effect on Marlen, who breathed 'Ohhh, fuck,' as her hand built up speed, and Helen, encouraged by this reaction, fucked me harder, grunting with the effort as she drubbed me with pelvic thrusts.

I was loving it. I was in full sub-mode, enjoying being used like a toy; pussy-whipped, royally fucked. Helen like this was overwhelming. She was so strong, so energetic, so aggressive, yet at the same time, so, so female. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.

When she came, I was completely unprepared. She was thrusting, thrusting, thrusting, and I was trying to keep my tongue out to stimulate her clit whenever I could, when suddenly, her moans dropped by an octave and incredibly musky, sapid orgasm juice trickled into my throat, making me gag and cough until I could swallow it.

Marlen's orgasmic cry followed almost immediately; 'Yeeaaahhhhhhh' as her fingers fucked her hole rapidly, making lurid squelching noises.

Helen's taste changed dramatically, becoming altogether more acrid and piquant. The taste of pure female orgasm. It was truly a flavour to savour, and I lay there, squashed into the damp duvet lapping up her drips and licking my lips.

At length, she rolled off me and moved down to kiss me and clean up my face a little, both of us sharing that oh so carnal nectar.

It was a while before Marlen stirred, then she sat up and said, 'Phew, that was so hot I thought I was going to explode.' She brushed her crinkly hair back with both hands and puffed her cheeks out.

I lay back and beckoned her with the fingers of both hands. 'Do you want a turn? It's even better first-hand... Your turn to watch, Helen,' I beamed, and I wiggled my tongue, lewdly as Marlen climbed over me, bringing her oh, so beautiful pussy for me to gorge on...

I woke in the morning to the sound of Helen and Marlen, giggling in the shower, and I lay listening to them and smiling to myself. Our sex had been super-hot, and I loved being dommed by them. They are quite different, physically, but both gorgeous. I closed my eyes and remembered Marlen's perfect pussy. Wow.

They emerged from a steamy bathroom, looking very pleased with themselves. 'Morning Chloe,' they chimed, and I yawned and grumped about how long they'd been in there as I tottered past them.

I looked in the mirror at my dishevelled countenance; eyes bleary, hair like a haystack, and I felt at my slightly tender nose. It really had taken a drubbing.

My finger tips tasted salty, and there was still a faint residual flavour of sex fluids in my mouth and on my lips. It no longer tasted nectarous, but I still liked it because it reminded me of how I'd savoured it the previous night.

I suddenly realised how hungry I was, so I brushed my teeth and jumped in the shower. Oh boy, Was I going to enjoy breakfast today!

This morning's bus transfer was another short one, so after breakfast I had a little time to kill. I went outside to sit at a picnic table and call Licia. I was itching to hear what had happened on her night out.

'Mornin babe. Ready for the stage?' she chirped.

'Mornin. Yeh, not too hard today. Just a matter of staying out of trouble. Nobody will be fighting for GC today... How did your night out go?'

'It was great fun. Sian is a hoot, and very sexy when she's dressed up. Lisa and I were blown away when we saw her.' I could imagine that. Tall and busty is a great formula for a bit of glamour.

'Was the lesbian party good?'

'Yeah...' she chuckled. 'Bit surreal really. I've never been in a room full of lezzys before. Mostly single lezzys too. There was a lot of flirting going on. A short chubby girl with huge knockers took a shine to Lisa. They were making eyes half the night. I think Lise got her number.'

'They didn't cop off with each other though?'

'No, Lisa shared a taxi with me.'

'What about Sian?'

'She left same time, in a separate taxi. Hey, what's with the question time?'

'Oh just interested.'

'You've got nothing to be worried about, babe. We all went home seperately, and absolutely nothing happened. Yep, that's right, we went to a lesbian singles do and there was absolutely zero sex.'

'Disappointed?'

'No, it was fine. We had fun.'

I felt a little relieved, but also strangely triumphant. Despite being left out, it was I who had ended the night with a sex romp, not her. Competitive infidelity? How weird is that?

I didn't want to seem like I was crowing, so I simply didn't mention Helen and Marlen, and she didn't ask

***

Stage 3: Vezza-Trento

Moderate hill. 122km / 1400m

Like Stage 2, the third stage also had a slightly odd profile. Starting in the Oglio valley, quite close to where we'd been the previous day, it immediately made a 20km ascent of Passo Tonale at 1883m, then basically descended for 100km to the finish in Trento.

Usually, when a big climb is tackled early like this, the peloton rides it very conservatively, it being so far from the finish, and breakaways struggle to form on the downhill because of the sheer speed of the peloton. Therefore, this kind of stage is tailor-made for sprinters, who can just sit in the wheels all the way, drafting, then sprint at the end.

It's not my favourite kind of stage, for a variety of reasons, but one of them is the safety aspect. Travelling fast in a tightly packed bunch is extremely stressful. You have to have your wits about you all the time because a single touch of wheels can cause a huge pile-up.

I try to stay near the front as much as possible so that, if there is a pile-up, I'm less likely to be caught up in it, and that was my plan for today. Stay up front and out of trouble. Simple self-preservation.

Another short bus ride took us to Vezza, and soon, we were starting to gather for the start. I saw Helen and Marlen and I stuck my tongue out and waggled it in a rude reference to the previous night's debauchery, making them giggle and shake their heads at my impudence.

As always, all the jersey-wearers formed the front line before the start, and posed for photos. Elisa was in pink (as overall GC leader), but the other category points available at intermediate sprints had been shared out by the Italians during their escape the previous day. So Zara was in blue (mountains classification) and Letizia was in red (sprint points classification) but there was I on the end, in white as the best-placed young rider (under 25). The team had even provided me with a white bike, a white helmet, and white gloves to match, but I hoped I'd be exchanging all of them them for pink at some point.

We rolled out to km 0 and started the climb immediately. The gradient only averaged about 4.5% so the bunch were able to keep up a good pace most of the way, and no attacks were attempted. A couple of short ramps of 8% strung things out, briefly, but by the top we were all back together.

I spotted Mae and came alongside her for a chat. As a sprinter, this was a stage she could win. As you may recall from the Vuelta, she'd got her first stage win at Logroño at the age of 19, making her the youngest ever winner of a World Tour race. She'd turned 20 since then, and she was now considered one of the brightest up and coming star sprinters in the peloton - expected to take over the mantle of Marieke, who had been number one for over a decade.

'Are you going for it today, Mae?' I asked her.

'Yes I am. Marieke has agreed to be my final lead out, after Bella and Gigi.' I exchanged a smile with Gigi.

'Wow, generous of her.'

'Yeah, she's sort of taken me under her wing.' She smiled, shyly.

'Good luck.'

'Thanks.'

The long, LONG run down towards Trento took us through Vermiglio, Val di Sole, scene of my first cyclocross triumph in the snow, back in December, which seemed a whole world away.

I recalled that magical night in the cabin with Carmen, star-gazing and fucking in front of the log fire, and I tuned out and fell to daydreaming...

SHIT! I touched Trude's rear wheel with my front, and we both nearly fell. We went into snaky wobbles, and girls around us had to take avoiding action, leading to a chain-reaction wave that spread through the peloton as more and more riders had to brake or swerve. Our speed disappeared completely in just a few metres, but somehow nobody crashed.

FUCK, that was too close. Keep your bloody mind on the job, Chloe.

As usual after an incident like this -- sometimes even after a major pile-up - there were no recriminations. Everyone just breathed a sigh of relief, and settled back into the rhythm. It was just one of the hazards of the game. I did ride up alongside Trude and briefly put my hand on her back as an apology though.

There were no more close calls, and the peloton was soon winding up to full speed on the approach to the finish. I just sat tight in the bunch, concentrating on keeping out of trouble, and rolled across the line safe and sound.

I only found out the result by looking at the electronic display, but I did watch the "highlights," later (the near pile-up was the biggest incident) and the finish.

Mae's lead out by Bella, Gigi and Marieke went smoothly, but Katarzyn Scholz of Equipe Verso-Lab timed her sprint to perfection and took it on the line in a tight photo finish. I've nothing against Katia, but that was what's known in the trade as a damp squib of a stage.

I had to hang around to be presented with my next white jersey, but as soon as I could, I returned to the team bus to towel myself off and get changed.

Only Debbie was on board, and she peered out from behind her curtain as I was dressing and said. 'Oo, Chloe. Can I interest you in a massage?'

I didn't really feel like I needed one, but I knew that this was just her naughty way of getting her hands on me, and I wasn't averse to that. 'OK,' I said, and toddled into her cubicle with just my sports knickers on, and a tee shirt and shorts in my hand. I could feel my bare nipples hardening. There must've been a draught or something.

'Topless eh? You're not shy, are you Chloe?

'Nope. I haven't got much to show, anyway...' I looked down at my modest little mounds.

'You're kidding, right?' she said. 'You have beautiful boobs Chloe. Super-cute. And those nipples... wow.'

'They're not like yours though, Debs,' I said, eyeing them appreciatively, as they bustled beautifully under her team polo shirt.

'No, they're not like mine, but that doesn't mean they aren't gorgeous. I love 'em.' She pouted fruitily.

'Hm, well I guess it's nice to have them appreciated.'

'Hop on the bench, face down,' she said and I did so, looking forward to a repeat of the wondrous massage she'd given me in Liège after my attack of cramp. As well as being as hot as hell, she's also a brilliant masseuse. I know "magic hands" is a terrible cliché but they really are.

She began at the bottom of my left calf muscle and worked her way up, using some kind of balm that smoothed and lubricated, leaving my skin feeling pleasantly warm and tingly.

Just like in Liège, she worked all the way up to my bum creases, and down between my legs, leaving me in no doubt at all that the inner thighs are an erogenous zone. I wondered if the moisture in my pussy was showing on the gusset of my knickers yet.

'Turn please,' she said, after she'd repeated the massage on the other leg. I turned over to lie on my back, and she gave me a bolster for my head.

My boobs may be small, but they are quite firm and don't subside much when I lie down. I admired them, musing that they looked like two smooth hills with little towers on their summits.

Debbie went to work on my thighs, and it was very pleasant, lying there as her hands worked wonders on my fatigued quads, rippling the muscles with her thumbs and moving up towards my increasingly fervid pussy. There was just no escaping the eroticism of this massage.

'You have great legs, Chloe. I mean, all cyclists have great leg muscles, but yours are especially shapely. I bet they'd look great in stockings.' I smiled. Little did she know.

Others could be heard returning to the bus now, but with the curtain drawn across, we knew we wouldn't be disturbed, although Debbie must have realised she may have other patients waiting now.

We really couldn't go much further, but Debbie was about to move us beyond massage and into something wonderfully inappropriate.

When she reached the top of my femoris muscles (the ones right at the top that lift the legs) she lingered. Her thumbs strayed under the leg elastic of my knickers and teased my groins, right at the border of my outer labia. She paused and gave me a sultry look, then her hands, still slippery with that tingly balm, moved up to my breasts.

I jumped a little as she squeezed and caressed them, saying, 'Never undervalue these, Chloe, they are beautiful,' and she leaned down and planted a sucky kiss on each of my nipples in turn.

I was on fire with arousal now, but I knew we had to stop. Debbie was clearly feeling the same. We'd worked ourselves up into a pink mist of lesbian lust and painted ourselves into a corner, with the other girls milling around just beyond the curtain.

As I sat up and started to put my tee shirt and shorts on, and Debbie said in a low and earnest tone, 'Don't leave the bus Chloe. Wait until everyone has gone back to the hotel.'

Debbie was one of the people who had a key and the authority to lock up the bus after everyone had gone, and she obviously planned for us to wait until we could get some alone time. The bus was staying here all night, so there was no time limit, apart from getting back for dinner at 8pm.

We pulled the curtain back and I shuffled past Marlen and Zara, both of whom were waiting for attention. We exchanged smiles and I'm sure I must have looked pretty flushed. I certainly felt it. My face felt like it was glowing.

I ensconced myself in one of the big comfy seats and started trying to look at my phone, but I was so horny it was almost unbearable. It took a real effort of will to stop myself going to the loo and wanking my arse off. I could hardly imagine what it was like for Debbie if she was feeling like I was; massaging Marlen, then Zara while keeping the lust demon under control. Her willpower must be truly monumental.

Despite an aching pussy, and my subconscious grappling with said lust demon, I managed to watch the highlights of the stage, and a couple of post-race interviews and, one by one, people left to return to the hotel.

Debbie was occasionally peering around her curtain, but Selina was still messing about, rummaging in her bag, then messing with her hair, then changing her shorts. Even that had me drooling -- her black knickers were amazingly skimpy.

I was sitting there, ostensibly looking at my phone, but in reality, brimming with impatience and wondering, oh why doesn't she just FUCK OFF? (Sorry Selina, but I had a fire to put out.)

Finally, she said, 'Catch you later,' picked up her bag and left. Thank goodness. I jumped up and headed for the back of the bus, but I met Debbie coming the other way.

We crashed into each other, and straight into a fervid kiss. We devoured each other's mouths while ripping off our clothes desperately and sinking to the floor.

'Oh... I'm... mphh... mphh... so... fkn... horny...' she managed to say while eating my face.

In seconds, I was on my back on the floor, and she turned around to straddle my head. '69 Chloe... we BOTH need to come...' How she managed to think of it in the searing heat of the moment, I'll never know, but I'm glad she did.

A 69 is not usually a favourite thing of mine, but this one was fantastic; her wet, drippy lips, squishing down on my face as she spread her knees wide, those luscious big boobs pressing into my belly, and her ravenous mouth eating my raw, eager pussy like her life depended on it.

We bucked and thrust against each other, her hips grinding me into the coarse bus carpet, and mine jerking up against her face, drubbing her nose and making her head bounce up and down madly. 'Oh... fck... oh... oh... fck... oh... oh... jzz... fck..' On and on and on, desperately driving ourselves to the release we craved.

When it came, we roared and screeched like wild animals, backs arching, muscles as taught as steel cables... and then we relaxed into aftermath, lapping at our subsiding sexual dribbles.

Debbie was first to resurface, and she turned around to kiss me, lying on top of me with her tits like big fleshy cushions, completely subsuming mine. She stared intently into my eyes from a couple of inches away and said, in a low growly voice, 'Chloe Lyons, you are fucking hot stuff.'

We weren't done. The immediate imperative had been satisfied, but we still had the hots for each other, and there was something I wanted to re-enact. 'Do you remember when we were on the way to Valladolid, and you came to talk to me? It was the first time you suggested a little playtime.'

'Ermmm, yes.'

'Well, you leaned over the back of my seat, with those big tits almost in my face. Did you know what that did to me?' She chuckled but didn't answer.

'I've thought about it since, and imagined what it would be like if we were naked and I could actually do something about it...' She smiled and nodded. 'Well here we are..'

'Go on then, sit in the seat.'

I jumped up, and went to sit exactly where I was that day, and she came around the back of the seat. I had a wonderful feeling of sexual anticipation of a little fantasy about to come true.

She leaned over, resting her breasts on the back of the seat, just like she did, except this time they were gloriously naked, and said, 'Do you want a little play, Chloe?'

OMG. I turned my head and gazed at them. What a magnificent pair they were. Full and heavy, with nipples that were not so rude as mine, but quite obviously erect. I stuck out my tongue and flicked one of them, thrilling to its slightly rubbery feeling, and the wrinkly aroused texture of her areola.

She stood up on the seat behind so she could lean right over me, and I bent my head back and let her dangle her tits in my face. An involuntary groan escaped my lips. How fucking horny was this?

'D'you like that Chloe? Big tits in your face? Yeah, suck on them Chloe, tongue them. Mmm.

I gorged on her nipples for what must have been a few minutes, while she encouraged me with dirty talk, but then she obviously needed more, and she came around to my seat. 'Stay where you are,' she ordered, then she climbed up over me, with a knee on each armrest, spreading her legs and bringing her pussy close to my face.

I gazed only momentarily, taking in the sight of her thick dangly lips and her drooling hole before plunging my tongue into her.

She was so wet, I had an immediate swallow reflex as her creamy juice bathed my tongue and trickled into my throat, and it was fucking delish.

'Yeah, tongue-fuck me Chloe, get it right in there... uh... oh... yeh.'

I stabbed my tongue into her dribbling vag, over and over again, making 'uh, uh, uh,' sounds, and holding her to me with my arms around her thighs, and she held onto the backrest of the seat, bending her head down so she could watch me.

'Ohhh, that's so fucking hot. Yeh, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.' I looked up and all I could see was her big tits jiggling and bouncing, and her face, with a look of lustful rapture.

I could feel her arousal surging again. Her juice was oozing slickly over my chin and cheeks, and trickling down my neck, but she must have thought my tongue wasn't enough and she lifted herself up slightly and started finger fucking herself desperately..

I became a mere spectator, as she wanked herself to the peak, crying out as if in pain as she came, and sprinkling me with delicious girl goo.

I lay half on the seat, supported on my legs and my back, and waited until she recovered enough to step down onto the floor, then I shuffled my bum back onto the cushion. She bent to kiss my wet face and licked up some of her sexual residue. 'Fuck that was hot, Chloe. I want you to do that to me sometime. I want to see what it feels like.'

'What's wrong with now?' I said.

'Oo, er, nothing!'

We swapped places and I climbed up onto the seat, straddling her. She leaned forward to suck a nipple and then trailed her tongue down my belly as I climbed up over her, putting my knees on the armrests. 'Oh, God, your skin tastes divine, Chloe. Salty. I love it.'

She shuffled down slightly, and I brought my pussy over her face. I must have been dripping wet and she gazed, slightly cross-eyed, before gently lapping at my lips, savouring the taste of my aching arousal. She looked wonderful down there, her short spiky hair and multiple earrings such a contrast to the women I usually fuck. 'Tongue, Debbie,' I reminded her, and I stuck mine out as if to demonstrate.

She took the hint and, holding her tongue very stiff, she speared it into me until her mouth covered my hole and her nose was squashed between my lips. My clit was like a shiny pink bean, pressed up against her nose, and she held the position, keeping eye-contact with me and raising her eyebrows provocatively. Oh God. So hot!

She gave her tongue a wiggle, then withdrew, before repeating the action, quite slowly. This wasn't the jerky, stabbing tongue fuck that I'd given her. It was even more salacious. The sight of her, mouth wide open, sinking her tongue deep into my cunt, over and over again, was almost unbearably horny, and little whimpers escaped my lips as she pulled out, her tongue visibly bathed in my whitish cream, then thrust lustily forward again.

The visual eroticism of this was almost equal to the physical stimulation, and I clearly wasn't going to last very long... 'Don't stop,' I pleaded, but she obviously had no intention of stopping. I think she was loving it as much as I was. Her eyes had a glint of prurient lust about them as she performed this most lascivious of oral sex acts.

She held me in place with her hands on my bum cheeks and fucked me with her tongue. Slowly, sedulously, tirelessly, relentlessly.

My internal muscles contracted as my orgasm approached, as if trying to hold onto her tongue, and my bum clenched in a kind of anticipative response. 'Oh God, Debbie... I'm gonna come... ohhh jeez... fuck... I'm coming... ah, ahh, ahhh.... fuuuuuuck...' My dam burst, and my legs went into a fit of violent trembling as I came wildly.

She drove her tongue deep and held it there, and her chest was racked with a triumphalist internal laugh as my pussy dribbled its surrender into her eager mouth and she swallowed, noisily. Her tongue writhed around my inner walls until my orgasm was spent, then her head flopped back with a gasp.

My head was cushioned by my arms on the seat backrest, and my body hung limply in a kind of suspended animation until I could gather the strength to straighten my legs and stand up. I flopped into a seat on the other side of the bus, and we stared at each other, agape. 'Fuck,' I said.

There's one thing above all that has to be said about Debbie, and that is, she's an absolutely awesome fuck.

As always after sex, my mind turned instantly to food, and I looked at the clock. It was 7:30pm. Only half an hour to dinner time.

'Look at the time!' I exclaimed, and we set about making the bus ship-shape again, wiping our moisture from the leatherette upholstery, and putting our damp knickers into the wash basket, then we dressed, locked up, and headed back to the hotel.

I greeted a quizzical-looking Helen, stumbled into the shower, and finally washed all the various residues of the day from my body; three hours of sweaty cycling, and two and a half of steamy sex. God, I was hungry...

***

Stage 4: Castello Tesino-Pianezze. Mild mountain. 142km 2700m

Although it was hard to see this Giro as a real tour of Italy, given its limited scope, the beauty of it was that transfers between stages were short and easy. The bus ride to the start of Stage 4 was, once again, less than an hour, and we were able to have a leisurely breakfast before we got on board to go to Castello.

I half expected the bus to still smell of sex, but Debbie's sterilising wipes had ensured that the only evidence of anything untoward having happened was a faint hint of citrus, and nobody even noticed.

It looked like being a hot day -- maybe as hot as 34C -- and the profile looked tough. It was described as mild mountains, and it basically consisted of 131km of small climbs followed by a final big one - 11km long - to the finish.

Most of the climbs were uncategorised, but there was a cat3 and two cat4s before the final one up to Pianezze, which was a cat1, climbing over 800m at an average of 7.5%. Not exactly an Angliru or a Zoncolan, but in 34-degree heat, at the end of a stage that basically went up and down all the way, it could definitely produce gaps in the GC battle.

As I rolled out of the paddock to go to the start, Debbie came up behind me and gave my bum a squeeze with both hands. Cheeky. 'Was that some kind of pre-race treatment?' I asked.

'Yea... arse-massage. Works wonders, I've heard,' she grinned.

'In that case, thanks. Can you give me one half way up the last climb?'

'Oh, I can give you one anytime, anyplace, sweetheart,' she chuckled.

I stood up on the pedals and gave her a parting bum wiggle then rode off to join the gaggle of girls at the start.

Part way there, I caught up with Helen and gave her a hip bump, just as Marlen arrived the other side of her and gave her one on the other hip. We arrived at the start cackling like schoolkids Oh what have I done to deserve these women?

Time to focus, Chloe. This stage would be nothing like the previous one. The lumpy profile provided multiple opportunities for breaks to form, or for splits to appear in the peloton. Concentration and awareness would be needed. There would be no cruising along daydreaming today.

We rolled out on a very short neutralised section, and as soon as we passed km 0 speculative attacks began. Domestiques from all the teams were alert and diligent in chasing down anyone they thought might be a danger to their team's objectives though, and Selina, Trude, Helen, and Marlen were all kept busy, looking after our team's interests while making sure Zara, Tera and I always had someone in front of us to provide slipstream. It's a hard life being a domestique.

Finally, on a gently uphill section at around 20km, four riders got clear. They were all well back on the GC, so were not considered dangerous and the hounds let them go. The four were, Tara Truman of Equipe Verso-Lab, Kat Bohringer of Team Veloviewer, Trixi ten Dam of Insta-Schwalbe (who had been Licia's replacement on that team), and my old friend Maisie Barker of Trek-ABB.

The biggest surprise was that they let Kat go. She was a good friend, sometimes training partner, and compatriot of Helen, and her climbing ability was well-known. If she got to the bottom of that final climb still clear, she could definitely win the stage. She was only 3 minutes down on GC, too. She could even go into pink if we didn't control the break.

On such a hilly course, it was difficult for the peloton to maintain a rhythm, or any cohesion, and splits kept appearing, then closing again, as the bunch ebbed and flowed over the terrain. It was quite hard work. There were few chances to relax, and by the cat3 climb to Vena d'Oro, just before halfway, the first sprinters started to drop out of the back. They would probably end up forming an "autobus" -- a group of dropped riders who would band together and hope to get to the finish inside the time limit.

At the front, I sensed Zara was making a few probing efforts to see who was struggling on the climbs and she did open some temporary little gaps, even among the leading group. I was OK, but I was keeping an eye on her. She's La Petarda after all, and I knew she could go off anytime.

Team mate or not, with 26 seconds between us on GC, there was no way I was going to let her go if she attacked. Somewhere, I needed to get that time back and I certainly wasn't going to let the gap get any bigger if I could help it.

All the top 10 were here, with just a sprinkling of super-domestiques, and I could tell everyone was a little nervous, wondering if there was going to be an attack.

Meanwhile, we had held the break to under 2 minutes, and our pace was solid. They wouldn't get any more of a lead now. The only question was, would we catch them on that final climb?

I looked around the group. Apart from the usual suspects, and domestiques like Olga, Marlen, Helen, I also noticed Pam was here as well. Ostensibly she was a domestique for Lucy and Suzy, but I knew how strong she was (remember the battle I'd had with her and Elisa at the De Ronde classic?) and also that she was a bit of a maverick, likely to take advantage of any weakness, wherever the cracks appeared. It was shaping up into a tense game.

I decided to diffuse the tension. I came close alongside Zara and said, 'Don't attack yet, Zara. Let's work together to catch the break. Then, if you want to have a dig, do it on the last climb.' She looked at me thoughtfully. 'But be warned, I'll be ready for you '

My confidence had risen exponentially in the last few months. Back in the early classics, if I'd have made such a statement, I'd have been laughed at, but now, after Roubaix, De Ronde, and the Vuelta, I knew I was respected, maybe even feared, throughout the peloton.

Zara didn't attack. Instead, we worked with the bunch, and reeled the breakaway in, until we were within a minute of them. The start of the last climb was only 10km away when Kat made her move. Gabi came on the radio; 'Kat has jumped from the break. She's solo heading up Santo Stefano.'

Santo Stefano was the penultimate climb. It was only a cat4 blip of a thing, but Kat had used it as a springboard to shed her breakaway companions.

Make no mistake, her only objective was the stage win. Moving up on GC was a secondary goal. She would probably only claw back a few seconds in the end anyway. What she really craved was crossing the line with arms aloft.

We weren't really bothered about her now. We might catch her, or we might not, but we had the opposite objective. Time on GC was everything to Zara, Elisa, Lucy, Suzy, and me.

Elisa wanted to stay in pink, Zara wanted to take it from her, and the rest of us just wanted to take time out of our rivals. 36 seconds meant pink would be difficult for me, but I wanted to at least bring it closer.

We hurtled into Valdobbiabene, at the foot of the final climb, at high speed, domestiques drilling it on the front. Kat had only 35 seconds now. We would soon be snapping at her heels, and we were about to explode.

We swept up Tara, Trixi, and Maisie on the initial slopes, and I touched Maisie on her back as an acknowledgement of her bold effort. 'Go Chloe, ' she called as I pulled ahead. Gotta love Maisie.

The peloton was falling to pieces now, as the gradient began to bite. Domestiques began to drop, their work done, and soon only a select group were left; Elisa, Zara, Lucy, Suzy, Tera, the redoubtable Olga, the amazing Pam, and me.

Should I attack? I did need to gain some time, so the onus was on me, whereas Elisa, sitting pretty in pink, only needed to defend. Pam had lost a chunk of time in the opening time-trial, and with a mechanical on Stage 2, so she was out of contention for GC, but she'd have her eye on the stage win, and Zara was likely to burst into life at any time.

Was it best to take the initiative, or just respond to anyone else who attacked? This was only Stage 4, so there were a lot of opportunities still to come, but I sensed there was going to be a "set-to" very soon. Oh, how I wished I could have asked Molly for advice right at that moment.

We were all wary of each other, so much so that our pace had slowed a bit. Previously dropped riders like Becca Redman, and Gigi Rivers rejoined the group, and we were no longer making inroads into Kat's lead.

As expected, Pam was the first to get active. She wanted the stage, so catching Kat was important to her. She threw in a speculative attack, and opened a little gap and, because she wasn't seen as a GC threat, nobody responded. She looked back over her shoulder, saw the gap, then went again, this time a full-blooded attack meant to "break the elastic," and in a few seconds she was clear.

The rest of us continued to ride tempo and watch each other, but nobody made a move. There was clearly a lot of healthy respect in this group, and no-one felt confident enough to attack. It was only Stage 4 after all, and we all knew that the big GC battles were still to come.

I think there was a reluctance to overstretch. The temperature was in the thirties, and it was withering. We'd all been guzzling water like our lives depended on it (they did) and I had assiduously avoided the dehydration problem I'd had on the Angliru, which had cost me the Vuelta. I was, in fact, feeling great, and I was pretty much itching to attack. Patience, Chloe, patience.

Meanwhile, up ahead, Kat was dying in midstream, and Pam was homing in. Of course, I was oblivious of most of this at the time, but it was fascinating to watch it play out later on the highlights.

Pam got to Kat's wheel as they passed under the flamme rouge (1km to go) and she should have perhaps sat in for a while and recovered, but she was eager, and almost immediately launched an attack. She got clear, but she'd gone too soon, and her legs started giving out before the line.

Kat hadn't given up, and she kept grinding away and worked her way back. With less than 200m left, Pam had completely blown, and Kat crawled past her and went on to a famous victory, both of them weaving across the line at walking pace. Totally exhausted. What a battle!

It wasn't the only battle. Predictably, as the GC group entered the final 3km, Zara finally sparked into life and threw in a blistering attack. Her bid for pink! Everyone tried to respond, but I was the only one able to match her, and I took her wheel, and sat in as we recovered from the burst of energy.

I looked back to see that everyone else was sat down and grimacing. Minimising the time loss was the best they could hope for now. The battle was between Zara and me, but, unlike Kat and Pam's battle, this wasn't for the stage victory. Simply beating Zara to the line wouldn't be enough for me. She had a 26 second lead over me on GC and I wanted some of that back. I needed to counter-attack.

I noticed she was meandering a little more than she should, betraying the fact that she was starting to suffer. My confidence rose, and I decided to test her. I stood up and surged past at 80% effort, and she responded and took my wheel as I sat down again.

She'd be quite content if I towed her all the way to the finish, but that wasn't going to happen. I stood again, and this time gave it everything. It was MY bid for pink.

The elastic snapped and I was away. Zara tried to respond but then sat down, resigned to her fate. I remained standing, dancing the bike up the hill and going deep into the red until I was sure I was clear, then I sat down and concentrated on gaining time.

It was basically a 2km mountain time trial to the finish, and I was strong at first, but then the suffering began. The heat and the anaerobic efforts were taking their toll, and that horrible feeling of weakness began to swamp me.

As I entered the last kilometre, where the gradient ramped up to 11%, I was rapidly running out of legs. I could see Pam and Kat up ahead, grappling with the same feeling; smooth power evaporated, bike weaving with a mind of its own, muscles seemingly turned to mush.

A primitive fear seized me, that Zara would catch me on the line but, of course, it was exactly the same for her, and for everyone else struggling behind.

I grovelled across the line, just 20 seconds behind Kat and Pam, and Zara trundled in 20 seconds behind me. So no pink for me, but I was at least a lot closer now.

Despite her fatigue, Kat couldn't stop smiling, and Pam didn't seem too downcast about having blown it so spectacularly. A podium in the Giro is a prize worth having, and none of us begrudged Kat her first World Tour victory, at the age of 33.

When Helen finished, 3 minutes later, she ran to Kat, shouting, 'Kat, Kat, fantastisch,' and they embraced. Old team mates, rivals, and friends, they must have shared a few kilometres together over the years. It almost felt like it was Helen's victory too.

Standing on the third step was satisfying to me. I had ridden a good race, and furthered my GC ambitions, and was happy for those two who finished ahead of me. It was great to see Kat get that victory, and it will surely only be a matter of time before Pam also gets a win with the form she now has.

Standing on the second step of the GC podium, I looked at Zara in pink, but there was no envy now. I knew that she was only looking after it for me.

GC after the stage:

1. Zara Visto (TCZ) 9:25.10

2. Chloe Lyons (TCZ) + 00.04

3. Elisa Abruzzi (TVV) +00.12

4. Tera Griffin (TCZ) + 00.55

5. Lucy van Barle (TAR) + 01.07

6. Suzy Goethe (TAR) + 01.18

Back at the bus, I sat on a bench in the shade and called Licia.

'Epic, babe,' she said. 'I was screaming at the telly when you were battling with Zara and - I told you -- right now, you're the best climber in the world. Griffin, van Barle, Goethe, all great climbers, they had to form a little grupetto, just trying to limit their losses, while you were up the road, taking the fight to Zara Visto. ZARA VISTO! Oh God, I'm so proud of you babe. I want to SQUEEEZE you!'

I chuckled. Who wouldn't want a girlfriend like this?

'And what about Kat and Pam?' she went on, 'What a finish. They hardly had the strength to cross the line. Have you watched it yet?'

'No, not yet.'

'It was BRUTAL. Kat had more grit than Spready Mercury,' (my local winter road gritting lorry) 'Christ knows how she got back to win. Fantastic. Oh Chloe, I'm missing it -- and you - so much. I can't wait to get back on the tour.'

'I can't wait for that, either. Do you think they'll put you on the team for Le Tour?'

'No, I doubt that. Maybe the Tour de Romandie in August.'

'I hope so... Anyway, how's the rest of your life?'

'Oh it's good, apart from your absence... Lisa phoned that girl from the party -- Candy, she's called. They are going out tomorrow night. I might lose my playmate.'

'Or gain one,' I suggested.

'Yeahh... There's a thought... You're a bad, bad girl, Chloe Lyons.'

'Takes one to know one.'

'Cheeky bitch.'

'Hussy.'

'Slut.'

'Floozy.'

She burst out laughing at the archaic term and we ended up cackling like naughty kids. 'Ah, you don't half do me some good, Chloe. Hurry back to me, babe.'

'I will, but it's your turn to come to Scotland next time.'

'Next week, after you win the Giro,' she said.

'Hey, don't go tempting providence. You know anything can happen...'

'I know, I mean, look at me.'

'Yeah, and what nearly happened on yesterday's stage.'

'Stay safe babe.'

'I'll try... Ciao.'

'Ciao bella.'

I sighed. Talking to her always moves me.

I got onto the bus, sat in "the sex seat," and started watching the coverage of the stage. Tera emerged from Debbie's cubicle, and Zara went in.

I was a little envious. Tera and Zara are both as hot as hell, but them being straight, I'd never get my hands on them. Debbie would though. In a purely professional way, of course, but hands on is hands on and, knowing what a horny bitch she is, I admired her professionalism. I don't think I'd find it easy if I were presented with Zara's luscious brown legs to fondle, I mean massage... I tried to banish the thought and concentrate on the highlights.

Licia was right; it was an epic finish, and Kat and Pam were grovelling even more than me as they crossed the line. Both of them utterly spent. This sport doesn't take prisoners.

Zara emerged, grabbed her bag, and with a bright 'Ciao Chloe,' departed to the hotel. Debbie's mischievous face appeared around the curtain. 'Chloe, helloo... Fancy a massage?' Oh, jeez. Here we go again...