31: A surprise note
The flashing blue lights went on as the Maine state trooper came upon the cluster of near naked, swimsuit wearing gang of now ten clustered at the weigh station just north of the intersection with Route 212. The weigh station was hardly ever used, except as a meeting point and a spot for the police to take radar. It mostly sat empty. "What's going on here?" the middle aged officer asked. He scoped them out with a stern, scolding stare.
"Our teammate is riding to Patten," Jake started to answer. "We are his support team and cheering him on."
"Riding what?" The officer asked.
"A bike, you know, the kind you pedal," Jake replied, not intending for his answer to come out as sarcastic as it did.
"You getting smart with me?" The officer asked.
"No sir," Jake quickly assured him. "I said that to distinguish his bike from a motorcycle." The explanation made sense and seemed to ease the tension.
"What is with the swimsuits, speedos?" the officer asked.
"We are all on swim team together," Devon took over answers. "It seemed like a fun idea, but I guess it does look weird."
"Certainly raises an eyebrow," the officer replied, now grinning. "So how far away is your buddy?"
"We guess he is pretty close," Devon replied.
"Well, let's give him a real welcome!" The reply took the team off guard, as the police officer pulled his cruiser out to the side of the road. When he got back out of the car, he motioned for the team to line up on the pull out road. "I was on swim team back in the day, still do swim, too," the officer replied. "What is your friend's name."
"Allen," replied the whole team. Just as they said it,Allen's flashing front light came into view. "There he is!" Everyone yelled. The police car maneuvered diagonal in the road, lights flashing.
"Way to go Allen," the officer called through the car's intercom. The team cheered and yelled as Allen approached. The officer got out of the car and directed Allen into the left turn to the weigh station. He then followed behind. The team surrounded Allen as he dismounted the bike.
"You all be careful," the officer said as he wheeled the cruiser around and blew the siren. He left as fast as he showed. "Gotta love swimmers," he said to himself as he headed north up the two lane road.
--------
Chris was sitting on the back porch of his rented two bedroom house in Fort Fairfield, near where he grew up. He was wearing a very colorful Bang swim brief he had just bought on line. He loved how the suit fit him, and made him feel aroused. He was scanning his iPad, reading the latest tweets from swimming world on some world class swim meet. The chime of a new email did not startle him, but who it was from did. The subject line read "memories and mistakes". It was from Sherie, the girl he dated for three years of college, starting with band practice before his Europe trip, at the college he would eventually swim for. The college his attraction to Sherie pulled him to. The break up wasn't ugly, rather it was sudden. Sherie said she wanted something different, something more. She was cute, the romance was hot. When the breakup happened Chris was devastated.
Sherie attached three photos of the two of them, at a lake right after they met, in Paris, and at a college meet. The common thread in all of them was how hot she looked and how hard he was in his swimsuit. He smiled at how much she drove him wild. The images and the memories caused him to grow hard in the tight and tiny swimsuit. Even the thought of her drove him horny. "I think about you everyday, how sweet you are, how stunning you look, and how you made me feel," Sherie wrote. "I hope you are happy. If you ever want to get together, know I am willing."
Chris read the note several times over. He smiled at the idea of a rekindled romance. He wondered what brought on the inquiry. He laid back in the lounger and closed his eyes. A response would come later. He had to think it through.
---------
"Twenty miles left, how do you feel?" Jake asked Allen, hand on Allen's sweaty Lycra wrapped shoulder. Allen looked hot, salt residue from his sweat lined his face. It was clear the ride was getting long now, and taking its toll. Allen gulped down water as if he had been stranded in the desert. He even poured half a bottle over his head.
"I am good," Allen replied, confidently. He knew the next segment would be the hardest. It was the last one, and by far the hilliest portion. He ate an energy bar, feeling the blood start flowing into his male parts, causing him to grow the bulge showing in his bib shorts. He rubbed himself with the free hand.
Ricky and Devon reached between his legs, slipping the refreshed water bottles into their holders, sixty ounces of diluted replenishment fluid that would be long gone by the time he hit Patten. "Thanks," Allen said.
After a fifteen minute break, Allen mounted the old green bike, his seat pressing into his crotch. He did a slow rolling u-turn and headed back out to route 11. The team cheered and yelled encouragement as Allen made the left onto the main road. He was off on the last leg of his journey, his energy raved by the support of the team. As he passed the 212 intersection he began a long and winding downhill, his speed pushing near 30 between braking for the curves. The downhill run was nice, but it hinted of the tougher climbs to come. For the first time in the ride, Allen was ready for the end, the chance to get off the bike, and free of the tight grip of the spandex outfit. Maybe even get into a very skimpy swimsuit for some post ride fun.
|