Without looking back, I was squirting WD40 down inside my cable covers, I said, "Hi Des." I continued bent over my bike.

"The view from here is terrific."

"Ha bloody ha. Does my bum look big in this then?" I jibed back, still playing with my gear and brake cables.

"No it looks absolutely perfect."

I felt myself blushing, then I squeaked and jumped dropping the can when he touched my bottom. "Just what are you doing?" I snapped.

Easy As Falling Off A Bike
by Angharad
part 195.

I went to bed with my head buzzing and a certain moistness in my panties. Why did Des turn me on so much? It was ridiculous. I had a lovely man already, who doted on me and of whom I was very fond. In fact I think I can safely say, I loved. Yet this ne'er do well comes along and sweeps me off my feet and leaves my heart racing like a geiger counter at Sellafield.*

I tried to go to sleep but all I could see was a certain face and I could still taste his kiss.

He was coming by at nine and it was nearly two already. I got my MP3 player and finally managed to get to sleep with the help of some music.

I awoke at eight and after washing and breakfasting got myself organised for my ride. I wore the imitation GB strip, it was the only one I'd brought. I just hoped I could keep up with my wouldbe lycra lover.

I got my Scott out of the garage and checked the tyres and brakes, put a small amount of lube on the chain and everything seemed in working mode, except perhaps the rider.

My modest mammaries were extremely noticeable in my racing skins. I had taped a certain appendage so it wouldn't be seen at the same time would be comfortable to sit on a racing saddle, which is smaller and narrower than a touring or MTB saddle. The weather was actually very mild and fine, a strange combination for middle December, but who was complaining.

Des arrived as I was wiping off my chain. The ideal in lubrication is as little as possible, but with the proviso it is enough. It can take practice and a few chain sets. I have heard commuters squeaking along on gears and chains that were crying out for oil and they don't oil them. I have also heard of more serious riders who get through a chain set a year and a can of lube about every ten years.

It reminds me of an advert I saw when I was a kid. It was displayed at the garage my dad used to use. It was very simple, 'We sell replacement engines for people who don't change their oil.'

"Hello gorgeous, oh wow! Been picked for the national team have we? I surrender now."

Without looking back, I was squirting WD40 down inside my cable covers, I said, "Hi Des." I continued bent over my bike.

"The view from here is terrific."

"Ha bloody ha. Does my bum look big in this then?" I jibed back, still playing with my gear and brake cables.

"No it looks absolutely perfect."

I felt myself blushing, then I squeaked and jumped dropping the can when he touched my bottom. "Just what are you doing?" I snapped.

He smiled in an embarrassed way, and I thought it served him right. "No VPL then?" he said.

"What?" I gasped.

"VPL you know, visible pa...."

"I know what it means. Of course there isn't, you're supposed to go commando."

"Oh are you?"

I turned and gave him an old fashioned look, "You know damn well they are supposed to be worn with no underpants, so if this was just a ruse to stroke my bum..."

"You'll what?"

"I shall think you are a dirty old man." I huffed and folded my arms.

"That looks like a useful bit of kit," he said looking at my bike and conveniently changing the subject.

"I think so."

"So you're gonna kick my butt are you?"

"Des, you are half as big as me again, I somehow don't think I have much chance against you, were we racing, not to mention that oestrogens break down muscle mass."

"Well you have two very nice muscles from where I'm standing."

I groaned, "Don't you ever think of anything else?"

"I do when I'm working, but this is play time."

"Yeah, and you should be in a school yard." I turned and placed my drink bottles in their racks, then shut up the house and garage. It was twenty past nine before we got to start our ride.

We rode up onto the downs and over the Clifton Suspension bridge, a C19th bridge built by Brunel over the Avon gorge, a fitting tribute to a master engineer. The ride went very well, we did do some sparring and he was certainly the stronger sprinter by some margin, but my smaller bodyweight helped me match him on the climbs. I reckoned if I'd managed to get back to the level I was at a few months earlier, I'd have have given him more competition, but effectively, he was riding more and in better shape.

We got back two hours later and had covered nearly forty miles, not bad given that some of it was quite lumpy. I half expected that he'd come back to my father's house again, but he rode off at the end of the road saying he had a meeting he needed to plan for.

So I rode the last hundred or so yards to the house by myself. I felt relieved and at the same time disappointed. As I put my bike away, I recalled his playful touches to my bottom and realised that it was all just flirting.

I hoped it was because he found me attractive, and restrained because he respected me and also his friendship with Simon. What would I have done if he had come on more strongly, I didn't know. Thinking about it made my heart race in a very pleasant way and for some twitches to occur quite a bit lower. At the same time I was relieved that my fidelity wasn't really questioned. I felt myself blushing. Would I have let both myself and Simon down by indulging in a fling? I didn't really know.

The phone was ringing as I got in, it was Simon. "Where have you been, I've been calling for a good hour?"

"I was out for a bike ride."

"What on your own?"

"No with Des." I felt myself blush and he went quiet for a moment.

"Oh, have a good time?"

"Yeah, it was a good ride when I could keep up with him, he is so powerful, thrusting away. I did try to match him in rhythm."

"What sort of ride are we, erm, talking about?"

"Bikes, what did you think I meant?"

"Oh that's alright then."

"What is?" I decided that he needed a wind up as it would guarantee his attention when I got home."

"Erm, nothing. You going to see your father?"

"Yeah, on the way home. Feel a bit pooped now, Des was so demanding last night." I nearly sniggered and gave it away.

"What do you mean?"

"Like last night, he is an animal, so full of energy. Think it must be all that cycling he does."

"What did you do last night?"

"You know, look I have to go, need a shower, see you later. Kiss Kiss."

He was shouting,"Cathy," as I put the phone down. I trotted up the stairs with my knees and thighs knowing they'd had some exercise, but my chuckling was because Simon's curiosity had also had some exercise.

*Sellafield - a nuclear complex which houses a power station and fuel reprocessing centre. A near by site was also the scene of the most serious nuclear accident in the UK (Seascale).