Pace booty, is what the triathlete community calls it. that delectable piece of appropriate sexy ass that you chase notionally because they're ahead of you, but in reality, you're thinking about what's under the lycra or spandex in totally inappropriate ways.
I had been in serious training for a half iron man for almost 7 months now, and my training routes had become fairly set after the first month. The longer I used those routes, the more familiar people became. I would pass by the same group of walkers or runners or other cyclists and wave hello or chat a little as we converged. It becomes a rare treat that someone new arrives, and a source of uneasiness when someone you expect to see isn't there.
This is about the former: the new person, and her being my pace booty.
I was into the 7th month of training, and was on my long ride. 56 miles is the distance I have to cover, and I was doing 60 miles because it just worked out better that way. I was at about mile 30 of the 60 I was planning when away in the distance, just past the traffic lights I was going to have to stop for, I saw a cyclist pedaling away at a reasonable clip. I kicked the cadence up a little on the restart after the traffic lights; he was new and I was interested in a new person to chat with and integrate into my routine. As I got closer, the he turned into a she. "Alright!" I said to myself, and fell in line about 100 yards behind her and began to take stock. Nice bike, nicely shaped calves, bike shorts but not a bike jersey. So she fell into the category of "not a new rider, but not a committed road biker yet". I could see the blonde ponytail at the back of the helmet, and the hint of a bust line that was more than the usual A or B cup that I found on the triathlon circuit. It really was a shame that the C and D cup are an endangered species on the circuit, as they're much more interesting (and motivating!) to look at.
Having scoped her out, I pull up along side and exchanged idle chat with Tricia, as she turned out to be named. She was, as I expected, a gym exercise biker that had taken the opportunity that the good weather offered to get out on a road bike and break up the monotony a little. Recently divorced, she had decided that her approaching 40th birthday was going to be a good one for her: new life, new status, new body. I did notice that she was checking me out, and undoubtedly as I slid in front of her to pull the train for a while, she was checking my body out. Once we got back into less windy territory, I ended up next to her, and could see that she was struggling a little with the pace. "There's a park up ahead that has a nice grassy knoll with a water fountain we could stop at". She accepted the idea gratefully and we ended up taking a breather there. I really didn't need one, but I really didn't need her falling off her bike at some point.
"You ride pretty darn fast.." was her first sentence after stopping and getting a drink of water. I was about to respond when I saw her face contort with pain as a cramp hit her right calf hard. Stifling a scream, she started pounding the ground and cursing a blue streak. Recognizing it for what it was, I pulled my sports drink out of the seat cage, handed it to her and then grabbed her shod foot and started to stretch out the calf muscle. Slowly, the cramp subsided as the electrolytes and the stretching took effect, and the pain mask slowly left her face.
"I'm partly to blame," I offered, as I continued to stretch her calf out, a calf on a very nicely shaped leg that i was busy perving on.
"How so?" she asked me. "it's my calf that's cramping.."
"I ride at a pretty fast clip, and should have slowed a little more. I just get in a groove and it's hard to slow down." I generously offered, taking the blame for the pain she was in.
"You're far too generous," she said, "If I hadn't been concentrating on your ass I would have noticed the pace we were at way before it became a problem. And now, here I am, stuck. I'm pretty sure I'll just cramp right up again if I try to ride."
A brief discussion ensued as to whose house was closer, whereupon it came known that we lived only a scant half mile from each other. I offered to zip on home, grab my truck and it's bike carrier, return and transport her home.
"It's the least I can do," I offered, gentlemanly.
"My hero!" she gushed playfully.
The interval workout I got was certainly worth it. I made it home in about 15 minutes, a ride that would normally take 20 minutes, and it was partially driven by my overactive imagination that I might be fucking that cute blonde within the day, and worse, that I might be doing unspeakably kinky things to her, if my radar wasn't off.
I changed into cargo shorts and a t-shirt and jumped into my F-250, and in no time had backtracked to the park where she was lying down, trying to keep her leg straight. I quickly had her bike onto the bike rack on the trailer hitch, and then was helping her gingerly walk from the knoll to my truck. Helping her into the cab, I mentioned that she was welcome to the sports drinks in the console, and that I'd need her help in finding her house. In between gulps of drink, she directed me to a street close to my own house, and in no time, I was unloading her bike into her garage and helping her into the house.
It was a very nicely appointed house; comparable to my own, but much better decorated. Apparently the divorce had worked out for her. She cramped again as she was walking into the kitchen, and it was with a little persuasion that I convinced her to lie down on the chaise and let me massage out the cramp. She directed me to the lotion bottle, and in no time at all, I was busy with my hands, massaging calves and hamstrings. there were more than just moans of discomfort going on as I worked my magic. When you're a triathlete, you learn the value of and tricks to giving a good massage. Her breathing was turning deeper and deeper, and almost before I'd assented, she was up grabbing a towel to place over her buttocks so I could massage her whole back.
As you can imagine, one thing led to another, and soon I was massaging her front in the shower. A deft suggestion that I'd only been able to change clothes but not shower led her to offer the use of her shower. That was followed up by a passionate kiss and almost dragging me to the master suite, where we both stripped quickly and attempted in vain to keep our hands off each other.
The shower was awesome, both for the fact that it was nice and hot and relaxing, and that there was a big-breasted blonde soaped up in front of me and me "washing" her assets. She was fascinated to learn that I shaved pretty much everything below my pectoral muscles, but saw the sense in not inviting chafing anywhere. She did, however, feel it necessary to run her hands over all parts of my body to inspect my work. Finding it satisfactory, she suggested we adjourn to the bedroom proper to continue our acquaintance making.
Her bed was a California king, and she perched herself on the side of it, breasts rising and falling as she breathed, and reached out for my cock. I had risen to attention, and she began to slowly suck on my cock. It became evident that her oral skills weren't the reason for her divorce, and I found myself getting close to cumming. It was almost a ball-emptier when her finger traced it's way over my balls, past my perineum to my asshole, tickling and probing it as she expertly sucked my cock down her throat. It was not lost on me that her gag reflex must have been on vacation; I'm not the biggest cock in the world, but she was easily taking my 8" down her throat and grasping me in ways that I hadn't experienced in a long time. Detaching her mouth from my cock, she first took one ball, and then the other into that warm, talented mouth, and when she had sucked on them enough, slid to her knees and forcing mine apart, proceeded to rim me while jerking my cock off with her hands. She's a dirty one, screamed my brain, and I barely managed to stop her rimming me to orgasm. Instead of shooting my wad there, I reluctantly stopped her and had her lie on the bed, reassuring her that it wasn't that I didn't enjoy it, it's that I wanted to make sure we both enjoyed it.
I extended my massage skills to her pussy, massaging around her lips, on them, tickling her clit, and discovering that she too was an anal fan. Her first orgasm came as my thumb was buried deep in her ass, and my tongue fucking her pussy. Her second orgasm came as I fucked her ass with my tongue, and had 3 finger deep in that pussy. Filing away her ability to take 3 fingers for future reference, I waited out the orgasm and then ended up next to her, holding her as the reverberations of such a powerful orgasm subsided.
"Fuck, how did you know I'd be into that?" she breathlessly asked.
"Oh, I had you pegged as Ms Ready-to-Play from the moment I realized that you were going to invite me back here." I replied, teasingly.
"You have no idea. My ex-husband was Mr Vanilla.It was a once-a-year thing if I got it doggy, and it turned his stomach to think of licking my ass, or god-forbid, pounding me in it." she related, bitterly.
"A man who turns down his wife offering him anal is... a rarity, and clearly insane", I soothingly said, "especially when it's an ass as fine as yours." This was accompanied by a gentle spank and fondling of one of her cheeks.
A moan resulted. As we were spooning, I whispered "have you been a bad girl?"
Breathlessly, she moaned back "you have no idea how bad I've been... or want to be." she then motioned to the chest at the end of the bed.
Opening it, I found a cornucopia of sex toys, restraints, paddles, a riding crop and bondage clothing. I wasn't surprised, but I certainly was amazed at how open she was about this with me.
"Hrm," I mused out loud, "I think you deserve a good spanking, or maybe a cropping..."
She whimpered a little, but made no moves.
"on your knees, my dirty girl, and hands against the headboard" I ordered.
As she complied, I used some of the restraints to secure her hands to the headboard. She trembled slightly, but complied. I took the opportunity to ask her what her safeword was, and whether she was sure she wanted this. Obtaining both the safe word, and her assent, the game was afoot!
The first strike from the crop came as a surprise, as she had been enjoying my cupping and kneading of her ass-cheeks, as well as the teasing of her lips and asshole. I heard the intake of breath and then the loud moan as the sensation hit her, and she obliged me with a "I've been naughtier than that, Sir" comment that got her a second, third, fourth and fifth smack on the ass. A nice pattern was beginning to form, and the redness of her ass was pleasing to my eyes. I found a makeup mirror close to hand and offered to show her how delectable her ass looked, which she willingly took me up on. As she saw the welts and the redness, an extra dose of wetness appeared in the palm of my hand that was cupping her sex, and she was ready.
The sex was as awesome as the foreplay. I freed her hands, and she used them to pull me in, rake my back, cup my balls, finger my asshole, as I used my tongue, hands and cock to pillage her. I fucked her pussy hard, I slid into her ass repeatedly, I choked her with my cock, until finally I couldn't hold it any longer, shooting jet after jet of cum from deep in my balls into her ass, as her latest uncounted orgasm of the afternoon shook her.
Spent, we lay together in silence, not wanting to break the spell.
"At least you didn't cramp," was the line that broke the ice, and the laughter flowed.
"So, what time are you starting training tomorrow?"