Maddy's New World Pt. 04

This series is a sequel to "Maddy on the Move," so it might be best to read that series first, to get some background. It's the latest in a suite of stories about horny lesbian cyclists, which began with "Riding with Dirty Girls."

This is a work of fiction. A figment of the author's imagination. It is not meant to be big on realism. It's a fantasy. The culture around world-class women's cycling probably isn't a hotbed of lesbian lust, but wouldn't it be fun if it were?

All characters are fictitious, and any that are involved in sexual activities are over 18.

***

Maddy's New World Pt. 04

Once again, Equipe Trek-ABB had produced a dominant display, placing 4 riders in the top 10 on Stage 1 of the Tour de Suisse, and taking the top two steps of the podium.

Portia was overwhelmed with her win and the media melee it produced. After the finish, she was pursued by a plethora of cameras, phones, and mics wherever she turned. The clamour for interviews and photo-calls was endless. Before the podium, after the podium, even ON the podium she was prevailed upon to give a speech to the crowd, which she could hardly manage, she was so overwhelmed.

Of course, it was almost as bad for Anna, but she's way more experienced, and she controlled it like the consummate pro she is.

Our young soigneur, Onna, tried to shield Portia to some extent, but she wasn't very effective, and Runa and I felt the need to step in as minders. We called time on all the attention, and chaperoned Portia back to the safe haven of the bus.

'Uffa,' she exclaimed as we closed the door behind us. 'Basta, basta.' She shook her hands in a very Italian gesture of vexation.

'It's a shocker, this stardom, isn't it?' I said, a little tongue-in-cheek, and she puffed her cheeks out.

Of course, part of Portia's problem, if it is one, is that she's very photogenic and, as always with the media, women's sport is not just about what you do, but also how you look. There's a bit of that in men's sport too, but not nearly to the same extent.

Portia was fast becoming the darling of the Italian press, with all the pressures that came with it, and it occurred to me that she should really have someone to manage that for her. I made a mental note to mention it to Jo-Jo, because that was something the team should have been helping her with.

Anna arrived back at the bus, and hugged Portia, saying, 'Super ride, Portia, you were very strong up that final climb. I thought I had you in reach, but I couldn't catch you. Chapeau.' She grinned, magnanimously.

She could afford to be magnanimous because Stage 2 was a mountain time-trial up what was basically the same climb as the Stage 1 finish. It was a course almost made for Anna, and she was firm favourite to win the stage and take the yellow.

We were all happy with the situation after Stage 1, but ours was not the only dominant performance that day.

I sat in my seat and opened Pro Cycling Stats on my phone. 700km away, in l'Aquile, Italy, the Giro Donne had just finished, and I saw that Chloe had clinched her second consecutive pink jersey in imperious style.

She was on a different level, but our team had done pretty well, with Gracie 3rd, and Libby 6th. I was sure that Gracie would be quite happy to take the third step of the podium behind Chloe and Lucy, and in front of Zara Visto.

The final stage had been a gnarly affair, with a series of categorised climbs and a punchy uphill finish, and the transcript from Cycling Weekly's live coverage told me that Chloe had attacked on the second climb of the day and romped away on a 75km solo adventure. By the finish, she had extended her already handsome lead by a further 2 minutes, making her overall winning margin 6.17, the biggest in the history of the women's Giro.

I put my phone down and shook my head. She's just awesome - and inspirational; I couldn't help noticing the similarity between the profile of Stage 8 of the Giro and Stage 4 of our race, and it set me wondering...

The other girls all arrived back, and the bus rumbled into life for the return to our hotel in Aigle.

Dinner was of course a jovial affair, and there was a toast to Portia and a proposed one to Anna, but Anna said, 'Don't toast me yet. The mission is not complète,' so we drank to "La Mission" instead.

Portia was absolutely buzzin to be in yellow, but she knew she'd be unlikely to keep it on the mountain time-trial the next day. That was Anna territory, with perhaps only the Canadian Jenny Lenet a likely rival, and she was already almost 3 minutes down on GC. Yellow was there for Anna's taking.

A time-trial is a whole different kind of race to a normal road stage. Obviously, there is no team work or tactics, and drafting is strictly forbidden. It is simply each individual against the clock, which is why only those who are chasing a position on GC are really interested in going full gas.

I'd never ridden a mountain time-trial at this level, but I thought I could probably put in a decent ride if I put my mind to it.

However, I didn't intend to do that. I was more interested in having the opportunity to join a breakaway on a later stage and possibly get a win, and I wouldn't be allowed to escape if I was still a GC contender. So, I planned to deliberately lose time, so that I was no longer a threat to those chasing the GC. It's a surprisingly common tactic for stage-hungry super domestiques; lose time and remove yourself as a GC contender, then go for a stage win.

I was quite open about my intentions at dinner, and Marthe, Runa and Anna were all OK with it. My position on GC was immaterial really, and I could still work for Anna on stages 3 and 4, until an escape opportunity presented itself.

We retired to the lounge/bar for a social chat, and had a couple of Rivellas, a Swiss soft drink that Anna had introduced me to and which I'd developed quite a taste for.

We chatted about the coming stages and whether Stage 3 or Stage 4 was most suited to a break, and Runa, in her infinite wisdom, said 'You cannot plan these things too much. Sometimes, you just have to see which way the wind blows and be ready to take your chance.'

This was very true. Some meticulously planned attacks fail because they didn't correctly read the mood of the peloton, or properly take account of the myriad forces at work among the teams. If I was going to make an escape, I'd have to be very astute.

Some time after 9pm, Anna and I went up to our room. We weren't planning anything sexual, we were just aiming to have an early night and grab some sleep before the next stage.

I was first in and out of the bathroom and I was in bed when she emerged and started doing her last little tasks before joining me; putting some aftersun on her slightly sunburnt nose, doing a light massage on her quads, picking up her satin scrunchy and putting her hair in a loose ponytail, setting her phone alarm, kicking off her flip-flops...

I lay watching her, with an unavoidable smile on my face. She was a vision, and she was mine, all mine.

Every time I gaze upon her, I notice something else exquisite about her. Her more obvious assets were very familiar to me by now; her wonderfully soft, jiggly breasts, her full, rounded bum, her marvellously-muscled thighs, her beautifully toned arms and shoulders etc, but now, I noticed how perfectly-formed the two ridges of muscle in her lower back were, picked out by the light from the bedside lamp, and the sheer grace of her movements.

She climbed into bed beside me, wearing only her black Odlo sports briefs. We kissed and I said, 'Oh my, Anna, you are so beautiful.'

She chuckled, 'Toi aussi, ma chérie.

We kissed again and I ran my hand over the curve of her waist and her hip, feeling the wonderfully long shapeliness of her. The kiss deepened, and I felt a surge of carnal desire. Once again, we were tumbling headlong into a sea-swell of sex.

Our relationship was in that phase where just the sight of each other, or a simple kiss or touch, was enough to ignite the flame of our passion. It was a phase that couldn't and wouldn't last forever, but which was sheer magic while it did.

I flung the covers off the bed. We didn't need them. We weren't cold. We were flaming.

I wanted her to be passive. To lay and just let me explore her, and I said, 'Let me love you,' and began kissing my way down her neck.

'Mm mmm,' she murmured. 'ma plaisir.'

She had already told me that this was one of her favourite things; to lie and soak up my attention as I made love to her. I had the impression that it wasn't something she'd enjoyed much of in her earlier love life.

I went on a voyage of adoration; roaming, kissing my way across her sweet-smelling skin, tasting her, inhaling her. Savouring her textures; the smoothness of her stomach, the crinkles of her areolae, the rude firmness of her nipples, the subtle, underlying muscles of her legs, the gooseflesh at her groins...

Her sporty knickers were not meant to be sexy, but they were. Designed to be invisible under tight lycra shorts or skinsuit, they were so thin as to be almost sheer, and the sheen of her tawny skin showed faintly through the black fabric. The curly fuzz of her pubes, and the fubsy ridge of her inner labia were quite clearly visible, and the way they stretched over her tensed groin tendons was delectable.

I slipped the fingers of both hands under the elastic each side of her gusset and pulled the fabric away from her wet flesh, then I reached out with my tongue to taste her essence.

She was lost in a world of sighs and moans, as I pulled harder on her gusset and she lifted her bum to allow me to pull her knickers down. As they came free, I took hold of the waistband and pulled them off her helpfully-bent leg.

Her pussy was bared and beautiful, and I teased her outer lips apart, stretching them until her inner ones followed suit and the gooey strands of her arousal were revealed. OMG, so hot.

I moved in and slipped my tongue between her fleshy flaps, gathering her sapid goo and savouring it, and pressing my nose hard up against her hot, tumid clit, and she let out a low-pitched groan. Almost a growl.

Fuck, this made me so horny.

While continuing my avid cunnilingus, I went up on my knees, bum in the air, deftly got rid of my knicks, and slipped two fingers into myself, then I thrust two fingers of my other hand into her, and began flicking my tongue back and forth across the underside of her clit while pumping my fingers in and out of her hot hole, using a curving motion to tease her spot.

I maintained the same rhythm in my pussy and hers, gradually increasing as I felt my orgasm rising and sensed hers doing the same.

She got there before me, and she let out a plaintive cry as the climax burst upon her, and my fingers went faster and faster, making lewd squelching noises as I drove myself towards my sexual summit.

It was the sudden little spurt of her girl cum that sent me over the edge, and I lapped at it hungrily as my fingers took me to a wonderfully sustained, multi-peaked orgasm. Each time I thought it was over, another delicious spasm swept through me, and I continued to gather her dribbling juice on my tongue and swallow it, fervidly. Oh, lesbian sex. Where have you been all my life?

In the aftermath, I remained lying between her legs with my head pillowed on her thigh. I turned my head back towards her pussy, and gloried in the warm, steamy, sexual smell of her as she lay enjoying her blissful recovery, then I tore myself away and went into the bathroom to rinse my face and freshen up a little.

We passed each other when I came out, and she gave me a cheeky little smile. Be still, my heart.

When she joined me, back in bed, she said, 'Turn your back to me, Maddy. I want to do the spoons.'

I turned, and she curled her arm around me and snuggled up tight to my back. I love the feeling of her spooning me -- or I her, actually.

Before we began to drift off, she nuzzled her face into my hair and murmured in my ear, 'I love your hair, chérie. It's so wild, so free, so untamed, so very YOU.'

I smiled and wriggled my bum back against her.

***

Stage 2 -- The mountain time-trial.

The route of Stage 2 almost mirrored the last climb of Stage 1. Almost, but not quite. The route started at the World Cycling Centre, headquarters of the UCI (Union Cyclisme Internationale, the world governing body of cycling) which is just to the west of Aigle, on the banks of the Rhone river.

The course passed through Aigle, then headed further south to an airfield called the Aerodrome du Bex, before turning north-east to join the route of Stage 1 and repeating the same final climb to Villars sur Ollon. Well, at least that part would be familiar.

It measured 19.7km, and had almost 900m of climbing.

That morning, Anna had her serious head on again. I'm learning to recognise it now. She's quieter and less smiley, and she sometimes seems distracted, as if she's not really hearing what I'm saying.

We all have to have a racing head, of course, but I think mine is a little less intense, and this particular day, I wasn't wearing it anyway. I was looking forward to an "easy day out," so I hadn't a care in the world as I tucked into my breakfast.

There was a lot of talk about bike strategy. On a flat time-trial, everyone would use a TT bike, but this one had 8km of flat, then over 11km of climbing. Some riders are more comfortable than others on a TT bike, but I don't think they are good for climbing, and their aero advantage would be pretty much nullified on the climb, anyway.

It was no surprise that almost everyone in our team, including me, was opting to use a normal road bike. Only Anna was choosing the time trial bike, and she was even planning to wear the full aero helmet as well.

It was a measure of how serious she was, but I also reflected that her seated climbing style suited the TT bike better than some climbers (like Portia) who would spend more time standing. A TT bike just doesn't dance like a road bike.

I could imagine Anna getting into a tuck, straight off the start ramp, then just pouring watts into the pedals all the way up to Villars. She is a former Swiss champion, after all.

Down at the start, there was talk of some riders using a TT bike as far as the aerodrome, at 8km, then having a soigneur waiting with a road bike for the climb. Perfectly legal, but it seemed a mad idea to me. The advantage of the TT bike over 8km surely wasn't enough to make up for the inevitable time lost changing bikes. I decided that the tactic was purely a psychological thing.

As usual, we started in GC order, at 1 minute intervals, and since I was lying 5th overall, I had to wait for 115 riders to start before me. A wait of almost 2 hours.

I didn't like it one bit. I didn't have any angst about the race, but it was just boring. After I'd watched some riders starting, most of them on road bikes, there wasn't much to do until the last hour before my start time, when I could get on the rollers to warm up.

Anna was already turning over her legs and I didn't disturb her as she just sat there, staring straight ahead and spinning the pedals.

I didn't really need to warm up - I wasn't going to go hard -- but I went through the motions, sitting there spinning, and daydreaming about this and that to pass the time.

Finally, my time approached, and I headed to the start house along with Runa. We queued behind Letizia and we all gave each other fist bumps and good lucks.

Letizia moved up into the booth and got ready. I heard her countdown beeps: beeep, beeep, beeep, BEEEP, and she was off. It was my turn.

I pushed the bike up to the start line, and a marshal grabbed the seat post to hold me steady while I clipped in and gripped the drops. I watched the countdown clock ticking away the last few seconds, and then: beeep, beeep, beeep, BEEEP... I pushed off down the ramp, adopted a racing position, and wound the bike up to speed. Fast, but not too fast.

I would have Runa a minute behind, followed by Linna, Anna, and finally, Portia, and I expected them all to pass me at some point.

I made it look good as I passed the crowds in Aigle, but then settled down to a steady pace. The numbers on my speedo meant little, likewise my power numbers, but I judged my effort by my heart rate, which I kept under 80% of my max.

When I reached the aerodrome without being caught, and could still see Letizia ahead, starting the climb, I thought maybe I was going too fast, but there was a lot of climbing ahead, and I would take it very steadily.

I began the climb, and started changing down through the gears. I moved my hands onto the hoods and settled into an easy rhythm. At km 9 I was caught and passed by Runa, and shortly afterwards, by Linna. This was no surprise, but what did surprise me was that close behind Linna, already, was Anna. Just after km10 -- about the halfway point -- she passed me -- having already gained three minutes on me -- and I was able to watch her catch and pass Linna before they were out of sight.

As I'd imagined, she was sat there, still in an aero tuck, churning the pedals like a machine, as if the 8% gradient didn't exist, and her speed was startling. God knows what her power numbers were.

It was another 4 kilometres before Portia caught me, and I enjoyed watching her, dancing the bike up and round the next hairpin bend ahead. She was, of course resplendent in yellow and she looked fantastic, her bright skinsuit a perfect contrast to her deeply tanned legs, which were shiny with sweat, accentuating the sinewy muscles of her calves. I hope I look half that good on the bike.

The rest of the climb was a lonely toddle for me. I was last on the road and had only one camera motorbike and one police motorbike for company, plus the team car, some distance behind.

I reached the flattish finish in Villars and coasted across the line, feeling like a fraud in a way. I had to remind myself that this was part of a bigger plan.

Despite my "easy day out," I had managed to finish mid-field (61st out of 120). I had managed to lose over 8 minutes though, putting me completely out of GC contention, which was of course the whole idea.

Anna, meanwhile, had absolutely blitzed the field, beating Jenny Lenet (the Canadian time-trial champion, no less) by almost a full minute. She was firmly in yellow, and had completely taken command of the GC. Her overall lead was now more than 2 minutes.

I watched her pull on the yellow, and it was good to see her big smile back. I mean, the serious Anna is OK, and I understand that she needs to adopt that persona when she's preparing for a stern test, but I love to see her smile. I was glad she'd had such a storming ride.

I finally caught up with her on the team bus, and I grabbed her for a squeeze. "Hey, what a brilliant ride. Putting nearly a minute into Lenet... Woow.'

'Yeah, thanks. I felt GOOD. I don' think I have felt so good for a very long time. Thank you, chérie.' She hugged me again.

'Don't thank ME, Anna. That was all you.'

'Yes, but it was a better me, because of you.'

'Aww, C'mere' We hugged again, emotionally. All the others on the bus were smiling indulgently at us, but I stepped back and waggled a finger at her. 'Better not get too mawkish though because la mission is not yet complete.'

The bus took us to our new hotel, which was in Neuchâtel, where we would stay for the next two days. Anna was very excited by this, because Neuchâtel is her home town, where she was born and raised.

'Oh, I love to come back sometimes,' she said with a beaming grin. 'There are so many places I want to show you, chérie, but we won't have time. We must come back another time, for a holiday.'

'Yeah, I'd love that,' I said.

At dinner, we were joined by Jo-Jo, newly returned from the Giro d'Italia. We congratulated her on Gracie's podium and she said, 'Yes, it was the best we could expect really. No-one can get close to Chloe now, and Lucy... She may be past her best, but she is still formidable.' She pronounced "formidable" the French way. 'Gracie is content to be on the podium,'

We were all nodding. A podium at the Giro would be a dream for most riders, including me.

'But the Giro is over,' Jo-Jo continued, 'We have this race to win now and it has been a super, super start. A very impressive win for Portia, well done...' she looked at Portia, who blushed and looked a little bashful, '... and a great time trial today by Anna. We have the maillot jaune in our hands, but we still need to be prudente. We have two hard stages to do, and we know that still a lot can happen.'

We ate dinner, drank to "La Mission" again and then I went into the lounge to study the next day's stage.

It was 126km long with just under 2000 metres of ascent, and it started in Vevey, on the shore of Lake Geneva, and headed north-ish over hilly terrain to Champagne. Not the French Champagne, this one is by the Lac de Neuchâtel.

The stage had four categorised climbs; two cat 2s, and two cat 3s. The first climb was just 5km out of Vevey, and the last one just 14km from the finish, but there were two in the middle of the stage which would be tempting for anyone thinking of a breakaway. I was sure I wouldn't be the only one with that in mind.

Anna came and sat next to me. 'Planning your move?' she said.

'Mm, maybe. The second climb looks best, but it's 90k from the finish, a long way to go if I end up solo.'

'I think you will not be solo. Everyone looked at the stage and said it's the one for a break.'

'Well, as Runa said, we'll have t'see which way the wind blows.'

'I think I will go up to bed,' she yawned. 'I am very tired. Would you mind?'

'Of course not, I'll join you.'

We went up and got ready, stripping to just knickers as is our habit, and as we slid under the covers, I said "Your turn to be the spoonee, tonight.'

***

Stage 3 -- The breakaway.

It was a 1-hour bus ride from Neuchâtel to Vevey, and I spent it, initially, doing some visualisation, imagining the stage, and then having a little doze. The route went along the shore of the lakes of Neuchâtel and Geneva, but there was little to see from the main road, which was either in tunnels, or screened by buildings or trees. I noticed I wasn't the only one getting a bit of shut-eye.

We were enjoying a bit of rest and relaxation before the rigors of the stage, but as soon as the bus pulled into Vevey, we were all up and going through our pre-race rituals.

I was a little distracted by the sight of Anna squeezing her luscious tits into her sports bra, and pulling on her brand new yellow skinsuit, but I gave myself a mental slap and told myself to get my mind back on the race. I did allow myself to say to her, 'You look good in yellow,' though, earning me a gorgeous little smile.

The neutralised start of the stage was only 1.5km, and then there were 3.5km of flat road to the foot of the first climb. Km 0 came and went, and there was a curious calm, with the usual attacks absent. The steepness of the looming climb obviously had an inhibiting effect, and the peloton cruised out of town very gently, just waiting for the uphill to begin.

The Chemin des Curnilles isn't much more than a kilometre in length, but it averages 13%, and had a couple of pretty brutal ramps, it was a good springboard for a climber or two to have a dig and, sure enough, when we hit the first ramp, two of them attacked.

They were Tara Zanette of Vista Maxx, and Cedrine Viseaux of Team Pro-Fast, both decent young riders, but they'd need to survive 120k out in front if they were going to make this escapade stick. I sat tight for now.

We concentrated as a team on protecting Anna, keeping her up near the front and out of trouble, and for the next 25km the peloton cruised along, not worried about the break, just having a nice day out.

Then we approached the second climb, the cat 3 Route de Thierrens which I knew had a steep descent immediately after it. I knew by now that descending was very much my forte, and the peloton was seeming rather sleepy. It was the perfect opportunity.

I decided to make my attack near the top of the climb, press it home on the descent, where the peloton had little advantage, then just do my best to survive a 90km solo to the finish.

It was a brave move, but that would give it the element of surprise, and if the bunch decided to have a steady day, I thought I might just make it stick. I was no threat on GC now, being 8.28 behind, so they might just let me go. It was worth a shot.

The bunch rode the climb pretty conservatively, and as we approached the last kilometre to the summit I dropped back, next to Anna, and murmured to her 'See you later.'

However, I wasn't quite discreet enough and I was overheard by Letizia Marchionni. As I moved back up through the bunch, she tracked me, sticking to my wheel as I positioned myself for an attack, and she sat there, just watching and waiting.

I left it until we were 500 metres from the top, then threw in my acceleration. There was no reaction from the bunch, and as I crested the summit, I looked around and saw just my little hanger-on.

So, I was away, but I had a companion, which wasn't a bad thing. We could work together and increase our chances of survival, and If we came to the finish together, I was pretty confident i could take her in a sprint. She's a pure climber and very slightly built. She wouldn't have my outright power.

I threw myself into the descent, swooping through bends, and out-pedalling my top gear on the straights, and I dislodged Letizia. Descending was another area where her slight build was a disadvantage, and by the time the road levelled out she was 40 metres adrift.

There was a small uncategorised climb immediately after though, and I allowed her to chase back on, so that we could work together, which we did very nicely for the next 20-odd kilometres.

During this stretch, we caught and passed the early break, Tara and Cedrine, and they either couldn't stay with us, or didn't try to. Shame. A group of 4 would have been handy.

We drove on, and our lead over the bunch grew to 3 minutes. But then it started shrinking again. The sprinter's teams had obviously decided we were to be brought back.

With almost 3 minutes lead and 50k to go, it would be a tall order to stay clear, but I thought we had a chance if we continued to work as a team. The two remaining climbs would impede the peloton's chase to some extent, and having a climber as my breakaway companion, even if only a single one, was no bad thing in the circumstances.

Letizia ruined all that though, by attacking me on the next climb and trying to go solo. I understood why she did it. She didn't want to take me to the finish just to get out-sprinted, but it spoiled our momentum.

She did succeed in dropping me on the climb, but on the flat 10k that followed I got into time-trial mode and pulled her back.

As soon as I reached her wheel, she eased... We were no longer a team working together. We were now rivals, warily watching each other, and expecting attacks.

She gave a flick of the elbow, signalling that she wanted me to come through to the front, but I shook my head. I wasn't playing that game. She attacks me on the climb, and then when she gets caught she wants me to do a turn? No thank you, missus.

I'd already established that I was faster on the flat and downhill, and the next few kilometres trended downhill, all the way to Champagne, so I spent a kilometre recovering from my chase and gathering my strength, then counter-attacked.

She tried to go with me, but after the initial acceleration we both sat down again and then I simply rode her off my wheel. She couldn't match my speed, even in my slipstream.

I was alone now though, and I couldn't help grousing to myself; 'Oh why did ye have to do that Letizia?' I grumbled inwardly, 'We might have survived.' Now, the peloton were coming fast and I knew I wouldn't survive on my own.

As I approached Champagne for the first time, I still had a final loop of 19km, and one more climb, to do, and Jo-Jo came on the radio to tell me I now only had 45 seconds over the bunch. It wasn't enough, but I wasn't giving up. Not yet.

I attacked the climb out of Champagne, which was called Vaugondry. It was a cat 2 -- 4.4km at almost 7% - and certainly enough to blunt the peloton's chase, and I still clung on to a tiny glimmer of hope.

I spent a lot of the climb out of the saddle - which is not like me -- dancing the bike up the hill, digging deep and going far into the red, throwing all caution to the wind. This was, literally, my last-gasp attempt to stay clear.

I looked back from one of the hairpin bends, to see if Letizia or the peloton itself, could be seen, but there were only the motorbikes of the entourage. I drove on, willing the summit to arrive, reaching out with my mind for the downhill I craved.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity of toil, I passed under the QOM gantry at the high point and started moving up the gears again.

Jo-Jo's terse voice on the radio: 'Twenty-seven seconds.'

They would have me in sight now, but I didn't look back. I just careered into the descent, squeezing the last drops of defiance out of my aching body and mind.

I held them off until the road began to level out, but it was only a final fling of resistance. I knew the game was up.

With just 5 kilometres to go, I was caught by the elite leading group. The group that had shredded the peloton in pursuit of me. This group contained all the main GC contenders, including Anna and Linna, and Anna just had time for a momentary touch on my bum as they swept past.

They were all having their own private battles, and there would be a small bunch sprint finish, but they were fighting for scraps. Anna's 2-minute lead would hardly be dented, even if she didn't win.

I was spent now, and had no chance of keeping up with this group so I just sat up and rode steadily to the finish, rolling in with the battered remnants of the peloton.

The stage was won by Katia Sholz, with Tarja Aaltonen second. Anna wasn't even on the podium, but she was safe in that elite group and only lost a handful of bonus seconds. Her lead over Linna remained intact.

I caught up with her, back on the team bus, and we embraced. 'Bad luck out there today,' she said, 'it was a good try.'

'I'm not done yet,' I said, with a determined look. There's still tomorrow.'

Over dinner, there was a big discussion over whether I should be allowed to make another attempt at a stage victory, or whether I should put my personal ambitions aside and just work for Anna the whole stage.

Anna said she was fine with me going for the win, in fact she said she'd love it if I won, but Jo-Jo thought the rest of the team should also have a chance, and I, of course, agreed with that. It was thrown open to the team, but nobody expressed a desire to go for the stage, not even Portia. Well, she already had her stage win, and her day in yellow, so she was probably quite satisfied.

As a team, we were sitting pretty. Anna was comfortably in the lead, and she seemed strong and in control. She also had her stage win, so she didn't need to chase anything, she just had to follow the wheels and stay on the bike and she'd comfortably win the GC.

I pointed out that, if I could win the stage, Equipe Trek-ABB would have won three of the four stages, and the GC, and I didn't think any team had done that before.

'That is a very big IF,' said Jo-Jo, and she was right, but it was something worth pursuing, surely?

Straight after dinner, Anna and I went up to our room, to lay on our beds, chill out, and look at the online write-ups and highlights of the day's stage on our phones.

I think we were both feeling pretty pleased with ourselves, and why not? We were at the height of our powers, and both of us were blitzing this race (I actually got the "most combative rider" prize after Stage 3).

It was a heady feeling - a natural high -- and it was almost surreal, seeing myself on TV, resplendent in my purpleness, and completely out-riding Letizia.

'I can't believe that's me,' I said, looking at the screen.

Anna rolled off her bed and came to peer at the phone with me. 'Oh yes, that's definitely you...' she said, 'aren't you gorgeous?'

I laughed and smacked her bottom as she skipped into the en suite for a pee.

I lay with my head propped up on my elbow and the phone lying on the bed, watching the inevitability of the elite chasers, catching me with just five kilometres left, and I sighed.

The TV camera caught Anna's little touch on my bum as she passed me, and the commentator, Jo Dawes, said 'Oo, Cheeky.' They actually replayed it in slo-mo! They were the cheeky ones, if you ask me.

Anna emerged from the en suite, and I did a double-take. She was completely naked.

She walked, slinky, around the bed, with a fruity smile on her face, and I said, 'Now who's gorgeous?'

She came and stood directly in front of me, and put her hand on my head to pull me closer. 'Mmm, someone's feeling frisky,' I murmured.

The phone was completely forgotten about as the warm, fragrant, closeness of her completely monopolised my senses, crowding out anything other than her and her sexual aura.

She moved even closer and pulled me to her, burying my nose in her pubes, and I let out an involuntary gasping sigh; 'Ahhhh.'

Her scent was dizzying. Dominated by her arousal, of course, but also with a hint of her Swiss Perfection body lotion. It was inescapably, exquisitely, her. She was MY Swiss perfection.

'Eat me, chérie, eat me as only you can.'

OMG, she was horny, libidinous, ardent, and I absolutely love that. I pulled her to me by her peachy bum cheek, and she climbed over me, onto the bed, straddling my face, as I pulled a pillow under my head. My phone clattered to the floor but I obviously ignored it. Only Anna, her desire, my desire, and her succulent pussy mattered at that moment.

She spread her legs wide, pressing me into the pillow, and she pulled her clit hood back with one finger while rubbing her hot little bean with another, and I drove my tongue into her syrupy hole, swirling it around in her dribbling honey, which I swallowed as best I could as it mingled with my saliva and trickled into my throat.

This became an epic and transcendent queening; the surprise of her emerging naked from the bathroom, her direct, almost predatory approach, and her sheer sexual fervour, all heightened my senses to fever pitch, and I simply couldn't stop myself from pushing down my pants and plunging my fingers deep into my pulsating pussy.

I finger fucked myself violently, as Anna shamelessly maximised her pleasure with a lubricious combination of my cunnilingus and her masturbation, until she came with a hoarse cry of pure primal pleasure.

As her piquant orgasm juice trickled deliciously into my mouth, my hand became a blur, driving me up and over the soaring climactic peak, and I made strange gurgling groans as I tried to swallow and moan out my sexual pleasure at the same time.

We took a little while to float back to Earth after this tumult, and then she scooted back down my body and bent to kiss me. She spent a LONG time smooching with me and salaciously licking her essence from my face, and I was happy to let her go on, and on, and on. I really could kiss her for hours.

I'd made a terrible squishy mess of my pants, so I took them off and dumped them in my washing bag, then we took turns in the shower.

It was still early, not even 10pm, but Anna said, 'Shall we just go to sleep? It's another big test tomorrow, and you need to be fresh if you want to chase that win.'

I smiled. I could definitely sleep. I can always sleep after sex. 'OK,' I said, 'Who is going to be spoon tonight?'

(To be continued)