Chloe's Sweet Pink Pt. 04

This is part 4 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. 04

Now here's a novelty. We finished Stage 6 in Bolzano, and we were starting Stage 7 in Bolzano. No transfer. Stages 6 and 7 were joined up. Like a proper tour or something.

I believe, if you go back far enough, there were no transfers in Grand Tours. Each stage followed on from the last one. They were a proper journey.

Then, at some point, the idea of transferring the whole race from the end of one stage to a stage start in a completely different location (sometimes 100s of kilometres away -- sometimes by air) became a thing, and now it's almost unheard of for there NOT to be a transfer of some kind.

Look at the map of any modern Grand Tour, or women's grand tour, and you can see, they are not tours at all, but a series of separate races, scattered around the country. It's a shame, I think, but I guess there are commercial or political reasons for it.

Anyway, no transfer from Bolzano was a welcome change, and it made the morning far more pleasant and relaxed.

I woke to bright sunshine, so the anticipated weather front had not arrived, but the wind was blowing the curtains boisterously, even through the tiny opening in the window, so there was some change happening.

Trude and I had sprawled apart during the night, but she had one leg over mine, and I lay, not moving, and just enjoying the feeling of warm thigh on warm thigh.

I turned my head to look at her, and I sighed. I really could fall in love with a lot of women. Maybe I already have.

I reached for my phone, trying not to disturb her, but she stirred as I twisted my body slightly to get hold of it. I checked the time. Only 7:30. Still 15 minutes to alarm time. I turned back towards her and put my hand on her leg, feeling that perfect combination of soft flesh and underlying muscle that I think only an athletic woman's leg can have.

I wasn't meaning to wake her, but I couldn't resist FEELING her leg, and she woke. I ran my hand up the inside of her thigh, almost to her groin, and I moved my face close to hers as she opened her eyes.

She giggled slightly. 'Oo, Chloe, what a nice wake-up.'

'Kiss me,' I said in a growly voice, and we smooched deliciously as she suppressed her giggles. She was right, this was a lovely way to wake up.

Breakfast was calling though, so we got up and jumped in the shower together. I never miss an opportunity to share a shower, and Trude was well up for it when I made the suggestion. I suppose it was just a bonus bit of intimacy that she couldn't resist.

She giggled again as I used her pubes to make a lather with the shower gel, and I got a new perspective on her body as I spread the suds all over her.

Her tits seemed even more impressive that morning. Rude, firm and shapely, they were quite like Licia's, but her body was way more slender and sylph-like. An extraordinary combination. I confess that I spent far more time on them than I needed to, but she didn't seem to be complaining.

By the time we exited the cubicle, the atmosphere was steamy in more ways than one. We looked at each other with hungry eyes and, to use a Licia-ism, I could have jumped her bones again right there and then, but we resisted. Hungry as I was for her, another kind of hunger was calling me downstairs, and I needed to conserve a third kind of hunger for later, on the ascent of the Stelvio.

As we dried ourselves and got ready to go down to breakfast, I was struck once again by how lovely her hair was. When we emerged from the cubicle, it looked dark brown, just like mine, but as she towelled it, and then it began to dry naturally, that golden-bronze sheen re-emerged. Really beautiful.

We arrived at the breakfast table glowing, as Helen later told me. Maybe we were just a bit flushed.

As always, I was figuratively rubbing my hands at the prospect of another transcendent Italian breakfast; crostatas, biscotti, plus stuff borrowed from the French (not daft, the Italians) like brioche, and cornettos, their special take on the croissant. All delicious, and all perfect for fuelling an ascent of a big Alpine mountain pass.

I do have a soft spot for an English bacon and eggs breakfast, but it would be THE WORST thing to eat just before a mountain stage like we were about to ride.

I was like a kid in a sweet shop as I perused all the wonderful high-carbohydrate delicacies on offer, but I became aware that there was a subdued atmosphere around the table. There was a serious feeling of foreboding about the stage, and a lot of apprehension about how we'd do.

The top of Stelvio was at 2700 metres -- pretty much as high as the finish in the high Sierra Nevada in the Vuelta, though the Italians and the Spanish would argue endlessly over which was higher. It had no really steep gradients, but many of the girls were fearful of how the altitude would affect them, having had a hard time on the Spanish stage.

I suddenly had an attack of guilt. There I was, stuffing my face without a care in the world, and I was suddenly aware that some of the girls had real fears. Even Zara and Tera didn't seem to be exactly brimming with confidence. Was I just displaying the naivety of youth?

I wondered about it but then I thought, nah... I'd finished a strong 2nd on the Sierra Nevada, and won on the Angliru. Why should I fear Stelvio or Zoncolan? I carried on blithely with my carbo-loading.

I looked at Helen and Marlen, who still seemed joined at the hip, and I thought about Lucy. What was going on with her and Helen? They seemed to have something good going for a while, but then... Was it the resurgence of Marlen, or Lucy's cold-feet need for space that had thrown a spoke in their wheel? Lucy obviously didn't want a committed relationship, and I thought that was probably going to cost her Helen completely.

I looked at Zara, who was talking to Debbie. Zara's demeanour was earnest and serious, whereas Debbie had an air of mischief about her. I thought, if there was any hint of a curve or wobble in Zara's straightness, Debbie would be the one to exploit it. I thought about "Maisie's Law," and I wondered. Was Zara on the turn? Would she succumb to Debbie's ample charms?

***

Stage 7: Bolzano -- Passo Stelvio

High Mountain. 110 km / 2600 metres

We had some unaccustomed free time before we needed to head to the start, and I sat in the lounge and familiarised myself with the stage again.

It was not the most imaginative route, it simply followed the valley of the Alto Adige upstream for 80km to Spondigna, then turned left to make the monstrous ascent of the Passo dello Stelvio; 30km long, with 1900 metres of ascent, containing no less than 48 hairpin bends. It was sure to wreak havoc on the GC standings. There would be casualties, and I had to make sure I wasn't one of them.

Helen, Marlen, Trude and I set off to walk (!) to the start, while Tera Zara and Selina got a lift with Robbie and Gabi in a team car. Trying to save energy, or just avoiding the lesbians?

We strolled along, discussing how tactics might pan out. We thought the peloton might let a break go, and that a strong climber might win from the break, but the GC group would probably try to stay together until, maybe Trafoi, where the final climb really begins, with 14km to go. From that point, it would just be survival of the fittest.

'I have an idea,' said Helen. 'What if we had someone in the break who could provide some help to whoever gets to them first on the climb, Zara, Tera, or you, Chloe.'

She was being diplomatic, but I knew she was hoping it would be me.

'It might not be much more than psychological help by that point though,' I said.

'Yeh, but that can be important. You know that, Chloe...' I nodded.

The three of them looked at each other. Trude was like a rabbit in the headlights. She knew she was most suited to a climb like this. She was an ex mountain bike champion, and less than 55kg in weight. Her physique was made for climbing. We all knew it.

'Would you be up for it, Trude?' I asked.

'Ermm, yeh... We will have to ask Robbie or Gabi though.'

'Nah, we won't...' my maverick was coming out. 'Team orders are all well and good, but once we're out on the road, it's a race, and we're the racers, not them.'

Helen and Marlen were grinning and shaking their heads. I was being bad, but I liked it. We were hatching a plan. I suddenly found my enthusiasm for the stage soaring.

'Hey, help on the climb would be great,' I said, 'but if you get the opportunity to go for the win yourself, you should. You don't have a grand tour victory yet, do you, Trude?' she shook her head. 'Well imagine what winning on the Stelvio would do for your value...'

She looked at me with a twinkle in her eye. Her dimples appeared. We were all grinning and giggling, like naughty kids planning a jolly escapade.

We arrived at the team bus. Although it wasn't taking us anywhere, it still served as a base, changing room, command centre etc. and it was a hive of activity, with girls getting their kit on, and soigneurs buzzing about, making sure that everyone had the gels they needed etc, and that Gabi and Robbie had everything they needed to have in the lead team car.

We set about getting ready, and said nothing to anyone about our plan. We'd agreed that Trude wouldn't join a break until it looked certain to get away, and that would hopefully be some distance into the stage. Surviving the whole stage in a small group would be difficult, so getting 50km or so out of the way first would be a good idea.

Trude looked nervous, but I squeezed her leg and said, 'Don't worry about it, Trude. It will be fun... This could be your day.' She smiled, and those adorable dimples appeared again.

We formed up for the start, and I managed to fist bump Maisie and Jude as I made my way to the front. Lucy was on the second row, and I fist bumped her as well, and got a little smile.

The neutralised section was 5km, and we rolled along easily, following the commissaire's car to km 0 and the official start.

It was a bright day. Not hot, but with a lot of blue sky, and fluffy white clouds overhead. It was blustery though, and I could see darker clouds forming over the hills.

The flag dropped, and some attacks started immediately, but I watched Trude and she wisely didn't go with them. It was the right decision because they all got brought back quite quickly.

We bided our time. 20km came and went as we ticked along gently. Then 30, then 40. At around 43km, the road encountered a little rise, and that's where Maisie attacked. Maisie! Go girl!

She was joined by her teammate Jenna Schmitz, and Inga van Touren (yes, Molly's Inga) but Trude still waited. She was, quite rightly, being cagey. Seeing what would happen. The peloton didn't react, and when it was clear they were going to escape, she launched her attack and jumped across to them. They were away. Perfect.

I heard Gabi on the radio. 'What's this, Trude? We didn't talk about this.'

'Ignore her, Trude, ignore her,' I mumbled to myself. She did, and the gang of four continued to ride away. YES! Go Trude.

The gang of 4: Maisie Barker (USA) age 29. Equipe Trek-ABB. World Tour wins: 3. Jenna Schmitz (Austria) age 27. Equipe Trek-ABB. World Tour wins: 1. Inga van Touren (Netherlands) age 20. Team Veloviewer. World Tour wins: 0. Trude Falskog (Sweden) age 27. Team Canyon-Zipp. World Tour wins: 0.

They were an interesting quartet. A mixture of experience and youth, all with decent climbing pedigrees, all capable of great performances, and all hungry for a stage win. Maisie, by far the lightest of the 4, had proven climbing ability, and Jenna already had a win on the prestigious Alpe d'Huez on her palmares. Inga was a bit of an unknown quantity on a big climb like this, but I was sure Trude could match any of them, with the right mindset.

The peloton rode tempo for the next 50 kilometres, while the break's gap grew to over 3 minutes. We made the turn into the Val di Solda, and the road started to gradually ramp up. Lucy put Olga and Pam on the front, and the work was shared with Helen and Marlen, as well as Kat, and Romi Wilde, both of Team Veloviewer. The pace began to increase, inexorably. The climb, and the final battle, was looming.

It was interesting that Veloviewer had let Inga go in the break. With Elisa lying third overall at 12 seconds, I'd have thought the whole team would be working for her, but they obviously had an eye on stage wins as well as GC, and Inga had proven at Fleche Wallonne that she was formidable in a break.

For our part, nothing more was said about Trude's escape. I think Robbie and Gabi knew, if they wanted to keep her in the team they needed to let her have a dig. It was all shaping up to be a fascinating finish.

I knew I was going to attack at some point. I wanted that pink jersey, and If I only took it tomorrow, I wouldn't get the chance to wear it on a stage because the race would be over.

The domestiques were doing sterling work, cranking up the pace to discourage attacks, but that was a double-edged sword because it made it hard for ME to attack.

The peloton was shrinking all the time as the pace took it's toll, and I think we were all finding it pretty hard as we passed through Gomagoi, with less than 20km to go. Snow-capped mountains loomed ahead, and it was hard to imagine that the road went up there, somewhere, let alone that it did it without going much above a 10% gradient at any point. That's where those 48 hairpins came in.

Predictably, Zara was the first to get active. She launched an attack, but it somehow lacked her usual explosivity, and Lucy and Elisa were straight onto her wheel, with Tera in close attendance. I noticed that Suzy seemed to struggle a little to follow though. She was definitely suffering a slump in her form.

I didn't respond. Obviously, I didn't want Zara to escape, but as long as Lucy, Elisa, Tera and Suzy were willing to chase her down, I was happy to let them burn their matches. I sat tight, for now.

The group re-formed, but I noticed that the domestiques were losing touch now, their earlier work catching up with them. Helen, Marlen, Kat, and Romi had all dropped. Soon, it would be Olga and Pam's turns.

As we approached Trafoi, Lucy attacked. She very nearly got away, but a huge effort from Zara and Elisa closed her down, and the three of them sat down and rode together for a while.

Tera, Suzy and I slowly worked our way back to them without ever getting out of the saddle. In Suzy's case, and maybe Tera's, I think it was because they didn't have the spare energy, but in my case, I was conserving my power for an attack. I could tell by their faces and their body language that all five of them were suffering now, and they were all watching me, warily, for the attack they knew was coming.

At Trafoi, right outside the Hotel Bella Vista, the road does a little zig-zag, a short right-left switchback, and it briefly ramps up to almost 11%. These are hairpins 46 and 45 in the countdown sequence, and from here, the summit is 14km away.

It was a long way to solo, especially on a climb like this, but I wanted to grab a decent chunk of time, to make the next day a bit of a formality. I had Trude up the road to give me a psychological boost. I felt strong, I felt confident. It was time to make my bid.

As we rounded hairpin 46, in front of the crowd that had gathered outside the hotel. I took a deep breath, gripped the bars like it was the start of a cyclocross race, and BOOM! Off I went.

There was a cheer from the crowd as I attacked -- another psychological boost -- and I ripped up the incline, throwing all my weight and power into the pedals, dancing the bike up the hill in a joyful burst of exuberant energy.

As I rounded hairpin number 45, I already had a decent gap and the others were all looking at each other to chase. I was away.

Gabi came on the radio. 'Nice move, Chloe. COME ON!'

I settled back into the saddle and concentrated on turning the pedals as smoothly and powerfully as possible. I Iet my heart rate recover to 175 beats, and then held that pace. It seemed to be enough.

Gabi kept me informed about my time gaps. The gang of 4 were just over a minute ahead, but they were coming back to me rapidly, and my advantage over the chasers was increasing, second by second, relentlessly. I was too good for them! I couldn't believe it.

I cranked on, holding my speed, and counting down the hairpins; 30, 20... by number 15 I was closing in on the break, and then Trude attacked. She knew I was coming, and she wanted to position herself further up the road, and alone, when I caught her.

When she attacked, only Inga could follow, but Trude sustained the effort until even Inga cracked. When I watched the highlights later, I was impressed by how long she maintained the pressure. Inga was determined, but Trude was relentless.

Gabi came on the radio. 'Trude is clear in the lead. Your gap is 30 seconds to her, 44 to Zara behind.' I was 40 seconds into virtual pink.

The remains of the break were close enough for me to be able to see them now, and I reeled in Maisie and Jenna, then Inga shortly afterwards. Nobody spoke -- not even Maisie. I assumed they were all suffering too much.

On the next incline, I caught a glimpse of Trude, but then we entered a dank mist that had settled on the top of the pass and all was suddenly grey and gloomy. Even the crowds of spectators seemed more subdued.

And then, there they were! Molly, Mari, and Fanny. Team Lyon. Standing at the side of the road chanting 'GO-EE, CHLO-EE,' accompanied by a fair few others.

It couldn't have happened at a better time. I was boosted to a new level, and on the long incline to hairpin number 9, Trude loomed out of the mist ahead of me. Another fantastic fillip. I was on a roll. I was on a high.

She was ready for me and increased her pace as I approached, and I tucked in behind and took her wheel. At these speeds, there isn't much drafting advantage, but even runners will tell you that you get a psychological "tow" from being tucked in behind someone.

After we rounded the next hairpin, I came through to the front and let her take my wheel, and we alternated like this, sharing the lead, and sharing the tow. Working together seamlessly like a team. Oh, that's right. We were a team.

My gap over Zara and Lucy (who had dropped Elisa, Tera and Suzy) continued to grow, to over a minute. With Trude's help, I was riding myself into a handsome lead. Pink was mine. YES!

My work was almost done. Mission accomplished. There were only 5 easy hairpins left, and the stage win was also there for the taking if I wanted it. I couldn't be that selfish though. I wanted Trude to have the stage, as a thanks for her help... and because she didn't have a grand tour win yet... and because she's just lovely. I wasn't going to just gift it to her though - and she wouldn't want it like that, anyway. I had to make it look good.

As I came through to take a turn on the front, I said to her, 'Attack me.'

'What?' she said, looking nonplussed.

'Attack me Trude. Go for it!'

She sat in behind for a few pedal strokes. I thought perhaps she wasn't sure what game I was playing (come on Trude) but then she got out of the saddle and attacked. It was a good attack too. She looked great, dancing away up the road ahead of me, slender hips rocking rhythmically. I didn't respond. I just dropped my head and continued to churn the pedals.

I kept the gap fairly small though, so that I could see her reaching the finish with arms aloft. When I watched the highlights later, the grin of pure exaltation on her face as she crossed the line was fantastic to see. Go Trude! I think I enjoyed it more than if I'd won myself.

I rolled in a few seconds behind, well satisfied, and I was especially happy to see that Inga had escaped the chasing hounds to secure third place. Wow. Two of her girls on the podium, and me into pink, Molly was going to be so happy.

Next to the line was Lucy, having attacked a fading Zara, while Elisa, Tera and especially Suzy, had lost chunks of time, and with it, any realistic chance of winning the Giro. Mountains are cruel.

It was damp, dank, windy, and pretty chilly at the finish, and when Zara came in she looked in a bad way. She wobbled across the line and immediately stopped and put her foot down. She looked just about ready to drop, but Debbie was there like a shot, wrapping her in a down jacket, helping her off the bike and ushering her away into shelter.

James took her bike away, and Adam gave me a down jacket to put on, and took charge of my bike. As more riders came in, all the teams' soigneurs were buzzing about, making sure everyone's needs were taken care of. I honestly don't know what we'd do without the soigneurs sometimes.

I found myself in a large tent with Trude, Inga, Lucy, Zara, and others as they came in. Trude and Inga fist bumped me, then Trude must've thought, 'what the hell,' and she threw her arms around me for a heartfelt hug.

Lucy came and kissed me on both cheeks, and Tera mimed doffing her cap to me from across the tent. It was all quite emotional.

On the podium, I looked up at Trude on the top step, waving to the crowd, and wearing a beaming smile, showing off her dimples, with her golden bronze hair stylishly swept over one shoulder, and I felt a massive burst of pride. Not just for what I'd done, but also for Trude.

Stage Result:

1. Trude Falskog (TCZ) 3:41.10

2. Chloe Lyons (TCZ) + 00.19

3. Inga van Touren (TVV) + 00.51

4. Lucy van Barle (TAR) + 01.12

5. Zara Visto (TCZ) + 01.26

6. Elisa Abruzzi (TVV) + 02.23

7. Tera Griffin (TCZ) + 02. 32

8. Maisie Barker (ET-A) + 02.46

9. Jenna Schmitz (ET-A) + 02.47

10. Suzy Goethe (TAR) + 03.05

The top step of the GC podium awaited me, and it was a heady experience, pulling on that pink jersey, something I had dreamed of - even more than the red of Spain, or the yellow of France, somehow.

New GC:

1. Chloe Lyons (TCZ) 19:16.03

2. Zara Visto (TCZ) + 01.03

3. Lucy van Barle (TAR) + 01.56

4. Elisa Abruzzi (TVV) +02.31

5. Tera Griffin (TCZ) + 03.03

6. Suzy Goethe (TAR) + 04.04

I had taken control of the race. There was no-one within a minute of me. It felt like I was in a dream.

Spraying champagne seemed a mad thing to do in the driech, blowing mist of a mountain pass, but we did it anyway, trying to avoid wetting each other -- it was way too cold for that.

In fact, I didn't stop shivering until much later, when I was travelling back to Bolzano in the team car. I was really looking forward to a hot shower, and dinner, not just because I was hungry, but also because it was sure to be a big celebration; 4 in the top ten on the stage, and 3 in the top 5 on GC. This was unprecedented success for Team Canyon-Zipp.

Among the multitude of congratulatory messages I got while travelling back to the hotel was one from Molly: 'Hi Chloe, congrats on a super super ride! Well done. We are going for a drink in the Stilfser Bar later. Join us, but no alcohol.'

It was a typical Molly message; congratulations, and social warmth, but then the firm rule. I always know where I am with Molly, and it's right where I want to be.

I had to look up the Stilfser Bar, and it was quite close to our hotel, which was a bonus. It was said to be the best cyclist's bar in Bolzano. Where all the hip pedallers hung out, apparently.

Bolzano (also called Bozen) is in the South Tyrol, a part of Italy where a lot of people speak German, and "Stilfs" is the German word for Stelvio. I prefer the Italian.

Anyway, we arrived back at the hotel, where two team cars were already parked up. Trude had travelled back with James, Tera, Debbie and Zara, and they'd arrived just ahead of us, so she was in the room when I went upstairs.

As soon as I opened the door, she flung herself at me, hugging me tight... 'Oh, Chloe, I love you, I love you, I love you!

Ooer... 'Steady on Trude,' I said.

I don't think she was actually declaring her love for me -- I think it was just a figure of speech -- but it was mildly unsettling all the same.

'Today, I was expecting to have an ordinary day of domestic duty, working for you and Zara and Tera,' she went on, excitedly, 'but, thanks to Helen and you, and your crazy idea, I've had a brilliant day, and won my first grand tour stage. It's fantastic!' She grabbed me and kissed me again.

'It did work out well, didn't it?' I grinned.

'I'm still waiting to see what Robbie and Gabi have to say over dinner,' she said.

'Well, they can hardly say anything negative after you won the bloody stage, can they?'

They didn't. Dinner was all positivity, toasts and good cheer, and hopes for final success tomorrow. If we'd had a disastrous day, I'm sure It would have been all recriminations about lack of discipline and teamwork, but our little escapades all paid dividends, which illustrates two things, to my mind: 1 - actions tend to be judged solely on whether they turn out well or badly, and 2 -- sometimes, just sometimes, fortune favours the brave.

After dinner, I talked to Licia, who was super-stoked to see me in pink ('Ooh, I love you in pink, babe') then headed for the Stilfser Bar, taking Helen, Marlen, and Trude with me.

We had a wonderful couple of hours, full of fun and laughter, and it was great to socialise with Molly and co -- it seemed like ages since the last time. Trude and I were both showered with congratulations, and I was recognised by some local people. It was brilliant and it would have made a perfectly happy end to the day, but then something quite surprising happened.

We were all getting ready to go back to the hotel, but I needed a pee, so I excused myself and went to the loo. I was sat there, sighing with the pleasure of released pressure, when someone else came in. They didn't seem to go into a cubicle, so I assumed they were just washing hands, or touching up makeup or something.

A near-silence fell. Even the sound of me ripping off a piece of toilet paper seemed loud.

I pulled up my shorts, clicked the bar back and stepped out, and there was Marianne.

'Oo, Mari, hello. Why do I have a feeling of deja vu?'

She grinned. 'Gent-Wevelgem?'

Yes, I definitely recalled the night before that race, when she'd come at me like a wild thing, overcome with lust and longing.

'I hope you're not planning to try to break my back over the washbasins again,' I said, smirking.

She looked sheepish. 'Sorry, I was a little rough that night, wasn't I?

'Yes you were. I quite liked it actually, but a LITTLE bit gentler would be nice.'

She made a move towards me, but I turned to wash my hands, teasing her a little. She turned to the adjacent basin and stood looking at me in the mirror, leaning on her hands and squeezing her tits together, deliberately, I'm sure. She had a nice black top on, and her cleavage looked mouthwatering.

Her agenda was obvious, and I wasn't averse to it at all, but Molly and Fanny were outside, so there'd be no hiding from them. I wondered what Molly's attitude would be, but I decided to just play it by ear.

I must admit, I found Mari's advances very arousing, just like that time in Ypres, and the more recent occasion when she'd seduced both Molly and me in her house. I never think I have a "thing" about older women, but perhaps I have. I do seem to have a lot of thoroughly scintillating sex with women who are more than 10 years older than me.

Anyway, I was definitely up for whatever Mari was offering. 'So, are you wanting a redux of that night in Ypres, Mari?'

'You bet I am,' she growled, 'I have a hotel room all to myself, and it's just waiting for you and me to have some fun. She leaned close to kiss me and I turned my head towards her, but then someone else came in and we had to stop.

I dried my hands and we returned to Molly and Fanny in the bar. My team mates had all departed for the hotel, but I sat down with them for another drink. I wondered how we were going to play this, but Mari was completely up-front and unabashed, in that healthy, unrepressed way that Belgian and Dutch people tend to have.

'Chloe's coming back with me tonight, for a fuck,' she announced with a smile, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world to say. My eyebrows must have shot up because they all burst out laughing.

'Don't you think you should ask her coach first?' said Molly.

'OK, coach. Can I please have your permission to fuck Chloe tonight?'

'Hey,' I protested, mock-huffily, 'I'm not property. I'LL decide who gets to fuck with me, if you don't mind.'

'OK,' said Mari. 'Please can I have the pleasure of a fuck with you tonight, Chloe dear?'

We were all cackling wickedly. Not a drop of alcohol had passed my lips, but I think those three were all a bit tipsy. Molly isn't usually so ribald.

Mari though, seemed to be getting more and more like that ever since she came out, and I decided I liked the new, more feisty, risqué version of her. I was looking forward to spending some more time with her.

Molly took on a more serious tone. 'You mustn't burn yourself out though, Chloe. I know you have a nice lead now, but you're going up the Zoncolan. You can easily lose that minute and more if you get there tired.'

'I know,' I nodded.

'And you, madam,' she pointed a finger at Marianne, 'don't be too demanding.' She looked at me and murmured, ' She's so horny these days.'

'I know,' I nodded.

Molly smiled warmly, and she took on that air of indulgent benevolence that people sometimes do when they are a bit tipsy. 'You're a rare find, Chloe. One in a million. All our lives are better since you came along. The WORLD is better...'

I'd never seen her so emotional. There were tears in her eyes, and I noticed that Fanny was squeezing her hand.

'Thanks Molly. What a lovely thing to say.' I could feel myself blushing.

'Come on, let's get home to bed,' said Fanny, and we all got up to go.

As we walked up the street to their hotel, Molly said, 'We'll be on the Zoncolan tomorrow. I've got permission to drive the car up to the top with the advance vehicles.'

'Great,' I grinned. I loved the thought of the Lyonmobile driving up past crowds of fans, just like another team car, but with "Chloe Lyons" emblazoned on the side, like it was announcing my imminent arrival. And I would be riding past them in pink, and hopefully staying in pink. I was bursting with happiness.

We stopped outside Fanny and Molly's hotel room door, and I flung my arms around Molly for an emotional hug. I didn't say anything. I just tried to transmit my love telepathically.

We clung for long moments, while the others waited, smiling indulgently. Then I let her go and turned to give Fanny a much shorter hug. When it was Mari's turn, I said 'You're not getting one. You're going to get something even better in just a minute or two.'

'Oo, yes please,' she chuckled. We said our goodnights and headed for her bed.

I felt a momentary pang of... I don't know, ruefulness I suppose, when I thought of Trude, probably in our room, wondering where I had got to, but my reputation was well-known, so I thought she'd probably reach the inevitable conclusion.

This was only a fleeting thought. I was, as always, fizzing with lust and anticipation as I followed Mari along the corridor to her room, admiring her bum in the well- fitted jeans she was wearing.

As I've mentioned before, Mari is a "strong girl," tall and well-built. During her pro cycling career, she was a time-trial specialist; powerful, and fast on the flat, but too heavy to be a mountain climber. Her physique is impressive, with thunderous thighs and bum -- her powerhouse -- and surprisingly large breasts for a professional athlete. I love her breasts.

She hasn't ridden a bike competitively for a while, but she's kept herself fit. Not quite as fit as Molly -- I think she could still win a race tomorrow -- but fit. She's still very, very sexy, and my heart was thumping as she let us into the room.

Strangely, there was a slight hint of awkwardness as we started undressing, but it was soon dispelled when she revealed those succulent tits, and started wriggling out of her tight jeans.

I took her around her waist and kissed her, feeling her big fleshy boobs squashing against my décolletage. She's a good few cms taller than me and my head was tilted up to kiss her mouth. I felt small and almost vulnerable next to her, and I liked the feeling.

I found her sheer physical presence, and her maturity, very alluring. Maybe I do have an older woman thing going on? I certainly have a big boobs thing...

I backed up and fell back onto the bed, bringing her with me, and urging her upwards so I could suck her nipples, and she smiled. 'You like those, don't you,' she said as she dangled them in my face.

'Mm mmm,' I murmured as I pulled her down and gorged on them. Loving the feeling of their weight and their warmth. The extraordinary contrast between the softness of her boob flesh and the crinkled rubberiness of her erect nipples was just divine, and I spiralled into a boob adoration reverie.

My pussy was crying out for attention, yearning for stimulation, and I slipped my hands between her legs, to rub my clit. 'Are you playing with yourself while you suck my boobs?' she asked, completely rhetorically.

'Mmmmm,' I moaned, with a mouthful of tit.

'Do you like it?'

'Mmm mmm'

'Do my boobs turn you on, Chloe?'

'Mmmm mmmm'

Are you going to come?'

Mmmm MMM'

'Yeah, come for me Chloe... ah ahhh.'

'Mmm MMM MMMMM...'

She was loving this as much as I was, and our voices mingled as we revelled in pure sexual indulgence.

'Mmm... oh, oh, mmm mmm.'

'Ahh, ahh, ahh...'

I came in a rush, and my whole body fizzed with pleasure. Goosebumps broke out all over my skin, and she pressed herself down on me, amplifying the feeling of being enbosomed in warm woman flesh, and driving the peak of my climax up to stratospheric heights.

The intensity of the orgasm surprised me. Just from sucking her tits and wanking. Somewhere deep inside me, special buttons had been pressed.

She hadn't touched herself at all yet, so she hadn't come, but she was raging with arousal, and despite my near-insensibility, she walked up on her knees to straddle my face, spreading her legs wide to bring her hairy pussy closer.

The musky aroma of her hot yearning sex hit my nostrils like smelling salts, and my eyes opened wide as I inhaled a huge lungful of her sexual essence. I was instantly back in the moment.

Her hairy pussy was right there, crowding me, dominating my view, flooding my senses, and she teased her lips apart with her fingers, revealing her hot engorged flesh, radiating heat like she was more than just sexually aflame. I was engulfed in her sexual aura.

'Kiss me, Chloe,' she said and, given my rather compromised position, it was obvious that she didn't mean on the mouth. I raised my head slightly and planted a succulent sucky kiss on her pink pudenda. She tasted delicious; all salty and sapid. I could taste her arousal.

I kissed her again and she groaned. 'Ohh, that's so hot. Kiss me again.' I did so, rolling my head against her and smooching with her pussy like it was her mouth, opening my mouth wide and using my tongue to explore her wet, syrupy folds and her drooling hole.

'Oh, oh, Chloe, that's... oh.. oh... make me come.... oh... yeh... yeh... yeh...'

She grabbed a handful of my hair to hold me against her, and I could feel the sexual spasms growing in her pussy as her orgasm approached. Jerky little thrusts racked her body until, finally, her thighs squeezed my head, and she let out a yowl as she erupted, dribbling hot watery, and oh-so musky orgasm juice into my eager waiting mouth.

She fell back on top of me, her head between my legs, and violent aftershocks made her involuntarily fuck my face, my chin buried between her more than ample bum cheeks, and more of her piquant ambrosia trickled onto my lapping tongue.

I was struggling to breathe as she lay with her full weight on me, and after a little while I took hold of her by her hips and turned so that she slipped off me, her thigh sliding deliciously across my wet face as she went.

We lay, almost side by side, moaning and panting for a minute or two, and then Mari stirred herself and turned around to lie next to me. She turned my head towards her with her hand and kissed me. 'Oh, Chloe, you are a wonder.'

'So are you, Mari. You have no idea how fucking sexy you are.'

She chuckled slghtly, and I jiggled one of her boobs, playfully, then kissed her again. A wonderful pussy-flavoured kiss.'

I reached for my phone, and she said, 'What are you doing '

'Setting an alarm. I need to be back at the team hotel for breakfast at 8:30.'

She touched my bottom lip with a finger. 'Can I have a good night treat before we go to sleep?'

'Name it.'

'Can I eat you?'

I giggled. 'That's the kind of request I'm happy to indulge...'

She wriggled down between my legs, and gazed at my sex, parting my lips with her fingers. 'Oooh, what a pretty pussy, Chloe. It's precious.' I recalled her calling it that once before. It's perhaps not a word an English person would use, but I liked it. I liked having a precious pussy.

We made a lingering eye-contact, then she bent her head to taste me...

Marianne had only acquiesced to her Sapphic desires a mere four months before but, like a lot of women who come out later in life, she had embraced it with gusto. She had, by her own admission, become a real devotee of pussy.

On one occasion, I found myself in a discussion with her about the relative properties and qualities of different pussies; Molly's, Fanny's, Licia's, and mine. A strange conversation, but not an unpleasant one.

'I'm amazed by the variation,' she said. 'I had no experience. I thought they'd all be pretty much the same, but I was so wrong.' She went into a long oration on the differences, and I listened, my mouth noticeably watering as I recalled them. She ended up with, 'but yours, Chloe... it's perfect. A pearl of a pussy,' with a snigger at her alliteration.

And now, here she was, enjoying it again. I looked down at her face, buried in my neatly trimmed little bush, her eyes closed in pleasure that bordered on rapture. Her relish was palpable, and I loved to see it.

When it comes to cunnilingus, I can never decide which I like best, giving or receiving. When two women do this to each other, there's an extraordinary empathy at work. A deep understanding of the sensations, both your own, and your partner's, and it's a trancendent joy either way round.

Quite apart from the sensations Mari's hungry mouth was conjuring up from deep in my loins, I got a lot of gratification from seeing how much she was enjoying herself, and I almost felt what she was feeling, tasted what she was tasting, like I was, at the same time, giver and receiver. No sex act is more beautiful than this.

I moved my fingers down and teased my outer lips apart, exposing myself more to her eager tongue, and she responded with a moan of approval as she swirled her tongue over my clit, which was zinging with exquisite sensations.

I lay there, passively, just holding myself open and soaking up the stimulation, as Mari gorged on me like I was manna from heaven, and I felt another intoxicating orgasm welling up inside me. I'll never tire of this feeling. I could easily become addicted. Perhaps I already am.

I closed my eyes and savoured the rise of orgasmic pleasure. Mari must have sensed it, and she redoubled her efforts, tongue-lashing my clit, faster and faster, drubbing it this way and that, mercilessly, drawing me inexorably up to the peak, until that incomparable rush of carnal exhilaration swept through me.

Mari made piggy noises as she greedily guzzled my orgasmic taille, and I released my labia and let my arms flop limply at my sides and just lay there jerking and jolting in an exquisite aftermath.

Mari lapped up every last dribble of my orgasm, then moved up to kiss me with her oh-so-sapid mouth, making my body jolt again with the sudden explosion of taste.

'Oh my, you are so good to eat, Chloe,' she said. 'Your pleasure can be felt. It's very gratifying.'

I sighed, blissfully, and kissed her again. I couldn't speak.

She rolled over and lay beside me. 'I could eat you all night long...' she mused, and I murmured approvingly, '... but Molly said I wasn't to tire you out.' I murmured again, drowsily. 'Get some sleep now, liefje. You have another big hill to climb tomorrow.'

***