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#81
08-12-2017, 01:23 PM
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29: Refreshed and Ready
Allen rejoined state route 11, just north of Masardis, a tiny little collection of homes tucked against the river. The general store, the last real business in town had burnt down a year ago, its charred cement pad the only remains. The old green bike topped 32 miles per hour coming off the steep descent into town, well above the 25 speed limit. Allen pushed hard on the pedals, as he glided through town. He was a third of the way through the ride, feeling really strong. Heading the opposite way, a guy on a stealth looking BMC was coming fast. He was dressed in a white cycling kit with various red, blue and green logos. Allen watched as he approached, dropped down on aero bars and cutting the wind like a knife in soft butter.
As they passed, the cyclist nodded acknowledgment to Allen, who quickly recognized him as one of the two triathletes at the ice cream stand. "Hey Sky," Allen called out. If Sky heard him, he did not respond. Allen glanced back to watch as Sky ascended the steep hill with ease. Allen's veins filled with adrenaline, his competitive ego kicking in. Sky had been out for five hours and already had 110 miles behind him and 15 left to go. His white cycling kit, a one piece skin suit was soaked and looking a bit sheer. From a distance, the sheerness not visible, but up close his features were slightly visible. In a flash, Sky was up the hill and out of sight. The climb to Oxbow is killer. A steep 9% grade out of Masardis becomes a steady grade for three or four miles. The road narrows, the lungs gasp, the quads burn, any arousal withers to a sweaty mess inside a Lycra grip. "This f.cking sucks," a gasping Allen said under his breath as every ounce of energy left him. He was hard pressed to push ten mile per hour. The easy ride became long, with a longer way to go. He sucked water from his bottle, the last few ounces that remained. "He is almost here," Ricky called out to the group, which now numbered seven guys, all of them in some type of tight swimwear, and two girls, both in very skimpy bikinis. The group lined up, along the right side of the road where Oxbow Rd meets route 11. It had to be an unusual sight as seven guys in nothing but skimpy, bulging swimsuits created a rainbow of colors, interspersed with the two girls wearing barely there bikinis. Was it any wonder the bulges were so on display. The best part was each guy had a black letter painted on his smooth, hair free chest, which now spelled out GO ALLEN. Even Stormy was in the mix, his colorful square cut revealing his very prominent package. A car drove past, an older couple, who looked surprised and amused at the younger folks. Allen rounded the final curve as the narrow road began a slight downhill toward the Oxbow turn. He had arranged with Ricky to meet, and he was ready for a refresh. His flashing front light was the first thing the group saw. "There he is!" Yelled one of the girls. A Bluetooth speaker blared a mix of sports jams, as the group lined the road, chanting "Allen, Allen...". Allen's heart raced with excitement as he saw his teammates. He could not believe all of them were out there cheering him. As much as he was drained from the climb out of Masardis, his cycling shorts bulged with his arousal at the image of the hot guys in their swimsuits. He pumped one hand as he road toward the group. They surrounded him, cheering so loud every Moose in a ten mile radius heard them. "You are doing awesome," Jake told Allen as the two guys hugged. Allen grew hard as their bulges touched. Jake did too, both showing in their tight Lycra gear. "How do you feel? Half way there?" "Well, everything still works," Allen smirked as he said it, a direct reference to the aroused bulge he was sporting. Jake knew what he meant and they both smiled. "Not looking forward to the rolling hills after 212." The guys refilled his water bottles, acting as a pit crew. The two girls got Allen energy bars. "Hey Stormy, hot looking suit," Allen complimented him. "Thanks for coming out," he added. Stormy still felt awkward with the group, but everyone was welcoming, even Jake, who had the most reason not to. Stormy gave Allen a thumbs up. He really did look hot in the suit, while a far less revealing suit than the briefs the rest of the guys wore, he was rocking it well. The music started. The group lined up. Seven high fives later, Allen pushed off on the second half of his journey, his bulging shorts revealing his continued arousal as he bent over the bars of the old green bike. He still had a long ride ahead, through the segment known as Moose alley. He was still hard a mile into the ride. 
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#83
08-13-2017, 01:22 PM
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STS,
Another nice chapter. I love that Allen has his own pit crew. Normally those are not provided unless he's in a race. Keep up the great work!!!
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#84
08-21-2017, 04:34 AM
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30: A Secluded Moment
Ricky started the pick up, and headed South on Route 11, one of the nations hidden gems as a scenic byway. To his right, Stormy took it all in. A far different world from the affluence of his Phoenix and Scottsdale upbringing. Ricky loved his truck, an older F150 from a year that started with a 1, a far cry from the sporty $25000 MX 5 Miata sports car Stormy took for granted. The love of car, or truck, was no less deep. Ricky, like Allen and most of the team, was a farm kid. Modest upbringing filled with family values, love, and acceptance. Stormy's paradigm was being shaken. In a good way. If nothing else, he had never ridden in a truck. Stormy smirked, old habits die slow, when playing music meant a CD in the slot, rather than Bluetooth streaming from an iPhone.
The ride started awkward all the way back from Ashland, where Stormy left the Miata behind. Here he was, in an old truck, with a tank top and skimpy square cut swimsuit. No shorts. Stormy was actually nervous, feeling vulnerable, a far different disposition than the cocky swimmer he had been to this point. He did, however, find Ricky to be cute, really cute. He was lean, muscular, and kind. Ricky had the most handsome smile, and the way he filled out his swimsuit was making Stormy hard. Ricky was equally turned on. "I figure the team must hate me," Stormy finally broke the silence as the truck bounced down Route 11. "Not really," Ricky replied, looking over. "Some think you can be a real dick, but I think the team actually likes you." "I know Jake hates me," Stormy continued. "You'd be shocked. Jake is the nicest guy on the team. I am sure he does not hate you. He probably just wants to know what your problem is," Ricky answered. "That's cool," Stormy replied. He adjusted his erect anatomy. Ricky was making him crazy with desire. They faded back to silence as Kenny Chesney played. Stormy started thinking of AJ, wondering what he was doing. "Must be hard moving your senior year," Ricky resumed the conversation. Stormy's eyes wandered in exploration over Ricky's body. Especially the way Ricky's bulging package displayed as he drove. Stormy's erection grew harder. A few see pages of wetness released into the material of his brand new suit. "Yeah, it does," Stormy replied,Ashe swiped away the wet spot that had formed on his suit. He could feel that if he wasn't careful, that spot could get explosively bigger. Maybe it was already too late, he feared. "So, you must have a girlfriend," Stormy asked, "Me, no," Ricky replied. "A few dates, but I guess I have just not gotten into the whole girl thing," Ricky continued. "I mean they are cute and all, but I am more into swimming and the guys on the team." It was an elusive answer that raised more curiosity than answers. Ricky glanced over at Stormy. "You and I sound alike," Stormy replied. Stormy rested his left hand on Ricky's right leg just above the knee. Ricky did not pull away. ------ The ride south of Oxbow for the next 25 miles winds through dense woodlands and low wetland. It is perfect Moose habitat, as evidenced by the warning signs and the skid marks. The road winds and rolls, passing only an occasional cabin. One by one, each car carrying Allen's swimsuit wearing support crew passed by. Allen was feeling great, energy stores back up. He was rolling at 18.5 mph. The trees provided some cover from the sun. Only his balls were feeling the impact of the ride, in every sense of it. He was twenty miles from the next rest stop when he hit fifty miles. As he rounded the downhill curve, his speed kicked up to 23.2 mph, he heard a rustle. He caught sight of the massive beast just before the bull moose bounded onto the road in front of him. Allen locked the brakes, the bike skidded left. The moose stopped and was staring straight at Allen. Thankfully, Allen stayed upright, stopping just 25 feet from the six foot tall animal, so close he could hear it breath, or maybe it was Allen gasping for air. "Holy shit," Allen said, as he stood frozen, the crossbar of the old green bike between his legs. Allen was not sure what to do next. The moose seemed more curious than threatening, as they both watched each other. "Go on," Allen said, as if the moose would understand. Finally, after a short stare down that felt like an hour, the big, clumsy animal continued across the road. "No one will ever believe this story," Allen thought to himself as he remounted the bike. ------ "Hey, I know this really cool swimming spot along the river," Ricky said to Stormy as he made a right onto a dirt logging road. "We got some time," he added. The truck bounced through the unkept dirt road's ruts. A mile in, Ricky turned onto a smaller lane, following it half a mile to a clearing along the river. The river bend had created a wide soft sandy shore. It was a secluded, secret spot most folks, even locals, didn't know existed. Ricky stopped the truck just short of the shore. "This is it. The water is shallow and it will be cool." "Sweet spot," Stormy replied, as both guys got out of the truck. It was isolated,private, and very bucolic. "I am going in," Ricky called out as he walked out into the water. Stormy grew hard again as he watched the muscular, swimsuit only masculine body venture into the river. Ricky had the perfect swimmer's butt, matching what he offered up front. "Come on Stormy," Ricky called out, now turned to face his new friend. Stormy was gorgeous, he looked so hot in the form fit of his print square cut. His bulge was perfect. Both guys were getting hard. Stormy darted toward Ricky, grabbing him as they both fell into the cool river. They stood, Stormy behind Ricky, arms around Ricky's waist, Stormy's bulge hitting against Ricky. Neither guy fought the moment, instead they turned and embraced, feeling their frontal bulges touch and rub. "Maybe I should have asked if you had a boyfriend," Stormy whispered. "I do now," Ricky replied, as they both held tight, close. "You got me all turned on," Stormy said. He could feel urges rising in his anatomy. Ricky was feeling the same. Ricky slid his hand down, feeling Stormy in the tight grip of the suit. "Oh man, Ricky," Stormy moaned. Stormy pressed hard into Ricky's grip, the full outline of his erect manhood being held in Ricky's palm. Ricky grew so aroused, his tiny swimsuit hardly able to contain him. He gently caressed Stormy, feeling him grow with uncontrollable arousal. "Oh man," Stormy pleaded as Ricky felt him grow firm and rigid. Stormy was breathing hard, his pelvis shaking. Ricky held him tighter, feeling him. The orgasm was massive and intense, as Stormy thrust into Ricky's hand. Six or seven hard thrusts, followed by several softer releases. "Oh man, I can't believe I just did that," a winded Stormy whispered. "You were amazing," Ricky replied. His own erection seeking a similar outcome. Stormy kissed Ricky. His hand ventured the same as Ricky's did before. Ricky was ready. It didn't take long. -----
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#87
09-03-2017, 01:55 PM
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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.
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#88
09-06-2017, 01:12 AM
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I liked the way the officer interacted with the boys in their suits. And the fact he himself was/still is a swimmer! And Chris - we haven't seen him for a while now - glad to know he may re-enter the story. I really liked reading about his exploits on the European trip.
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#89
09-08-2017, 01:40 PM
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Nice chapter
STS
Loving the story. Please continue!!!
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#90
09-11-2017, 02:24 AM
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32: Fresh Water
"You like wearing those tiny swimsuits," Stormy asked more as a statement than a question. He was still wearing the MP square cut he started the day in. Ricky was in the hot looking Q Swimwear suit, still showing a nice package, both guys were. "I have never worn one," Stormy added.
"Yeah, I think they are really cool," Ricky replied. "Not for everyone, I guess." The two guys passed Allen as he rolled down a steep hill, he looked authentic cyclist as he tucked low on the bars to take advantage of the speed. "Look at him go," Ricky shifted the subject. Ricky's eyes wandered from Allen to Stormy, the way he looked all aroused in the tight suit. Stormy's hand somewhat masking the erection he was still sporting. "You look great in that suit, you would rock a smaller suit," Ricky shifted back to the topic at hand. "Maybe," Stormy replied. "All the guys on my old team wore jammers, but seeing all of you in those racer suits..." Stormy gave Ricky a smirk. He never finished, Ricky knew what he was going to say. "Well, I like you in jammers, too," Ricky replied. "You look wicked hot in anything." "Thanks, man. So do you." Stormy replied, blushing and more aroused. He felt himself get full on hard, even a little wetness seeping out. If they kept talking he was going to loose control right there. Ricky slid his right hand onto Stormy's leg. Up high, very high. Stormy reclined back in the seat. "Oh man," he moaned. Ricky knew he was going to make Stormy go crazy. Exactly his plan. ------- The climb through Mount Chase was brutal. Mount Chase was the last big hill, an endless climb that came late and long in the ride. Allen was beat, his Spandex cycling kit was soaked, clingy, and feeling grimy more than comfortable. His legs screamed for it to be over, so did his mind. He was pushing hard in the small ring up front and the big ring back, the old derailleur system grinding at the extreme setting. Top speed was 6.5, but Allen did not care. He was happy to be upright and moving. A car full of girls, probably tourists, came by and honked and screamed. About caused him to fall. In his agitation, Allen mustered a hand gesture back at them. "Bull shit," he yelled. The sun was hot, the day was long and he still had the hardest of the hill to go, a half mile 12% grade that would about do him in. He looked down at the road, watching the white line slowly move beneath his front wheel. He was up, off the seat, pushing all he could to keep enough momentum to stay upright. Sweat filled his eyes and poured from his face. The crossbar of his bike soaking in the sweat dripping off him. "You got this!" The voice pushed adrenaline into Allen's veins. He pushed harder. "Keep going, you are nailing it!" the voice called again. Allen was just a few hundred feet off the crest. He finally looked up to see Chris, standing outside his handsome F150 wearing nothing but his white Zumo California Republic brief, the one Sherie liked. It was like seeing a mirage in the desert. Allen smiled, a big grinning smile. He finally crested the hill. Chris grabbed the bars holding the bike upright. Allen was too tired to even unclip the pedals. "Wow, that was an impressive climb!" Chris complimented Allen. "You rocked that!" Chris held the bike steady as Allen caught his breath. The salt was caked on his face, the remnants of his hard climbs the last few miles in the heat of the day. "That f..king sucked," Allen gasped out. "But, I made it!" Allen slowly I clipped his left foot, then his right and stood over the bike. His shorts were dripping with the sweat that had drained off his face and arms in the 72% humidity. His masculine odor permeated the air. Allen was totally drained. If he could get off the bike now, he would. Chris raised up a gallon of water. "Ready?" He asked. Allen nodded as the water came streaming over him, a welcome relief of fresh, cool, clean wonderfulness. A second gallon followed, as the spandex kit clung to Allen's body, wet and refreshed. The feeling was awesome. -----
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