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ME AND MY BICYCLE

No doubt about it. The clitoris is by far the best invention in the world. Unlike men, a woman can pleasure herself on just about anything that goes bump. For me, the bump of choice was my mountain bike and a good ‘ol fashioned trail ride.

I love my husband. He’s not only a great father to our two children, but he’s also a wonderful lover. He knows how to read my body. Sometimes I just want to fuck. Other times I really want the whole nine yards, from candles and romance, to as much foreplay as one can squeeze between sunset and sunrise.

But then there are those times I want to pleasure myself, at my own pace and with my own fantasies. Today I was in one of those moods. It was Sunday. The kids were at their grandparents, and my husband was up to his ears in a last-minute project. I could either stay home and watch television, or hop on my bike and find a bumpy trail.

I got into my bicycle gear, packed a small lunch, and kissed my husband goodbye.

“See you later, sweetie,” I said.

“Where are you going,” he asked, not noticing my clothing.

“To take my vagina for a bike ride,” I joked. There were no secrets between us, and he knew I took the occasional ‘self-pleasure’ tour.

“No bruises this time,” he shot back with a wink.

“No promises;” I giggled as I blew him a kiss.

I was out the door and on my two-wheeled toy in a jiffy.

When I bought the bike, I made sure I also picked a seat that was firm, but not hard. I set in such a way that when sitting up straight my clitoris could rest, but when leaning forward, it was getting the massage of a lifetime.

I decided to go to a park about a mile from the house. There were plenty of nature trails, a place to sit and enjoy a snack, and watch the other women cyclists, many of whom were probably up to the same shenanigans. Their faces weren’t just flushed just from the peddling. While nobody ever outwardly admitted to jerking off, an exchange of smiles and polite salutations was just another way of saying ‘I’ve had two orgasms so far. How many have you had?’ I don’t think there was a dry seat in the park.

God I love being a woman.

By the time I arrived I was all warmed up. I took a short break under a nice oak to sip some water, eat some fruit, and watch the people. Being Sunday, a number of families were there, along with some puppy-love couples and plenty of people on their own. I actually preferred it a little crowded. It was a safe place to be.

In all, I counted a good seven or eight women out on their bikes. One or two were probably here just for conventional exercise, but the rest were definitely taking their little ‘pets’ out for day in the park. If only the men knew what all these women were up to. Maybe they do, and maybe that’s why in the old days they made us ride side saddle. Just a bunch of poor sports pissed off because they can’t do it. Jesus, get over it.

Okay, time to ride. One final adjustment to my riding shorts and I was perched on my seat. Contact was just right.

First place I wanted to go was a flat trail that meandered under a canopy of oaks. It was peaceful and well maintained so the vibrations were minimal, perfect for just getting started.

A good five minutes into the ride, and I was feeling pretty good. Fresh air, the sweet smell of oak, and a nice, slow pussy massage. Life was good.

Up ahead another woman cyclist was riding toward me. We both smiled and waved as we passed. Off the top of my head, I guessed she was on her third or forth. A flushed face, heavy eyelids, and a satiated smile pretty much gave her away.

‘’Morning!” I said.

“Good morning,” she replied with a straight face. I didn’t buy it for a minute.

I headed for some of the more challenging trails to turn up the tempo a little. The few short hills that are less-maintained are the perfect place to grab your first orgasm. Lots of sticks, a few ruts and a few stones, set a nice rhythm against my clitoris, that bump, bump, thump I so truly cherished.

While enjoying the trail, my mind was on making love with my husband in some remote cabin. This would be one of those extended foreplay weekends where neither of us climax until the last hours of the get-away. Two days of almost getting there would build up quite a release. In all honesty, the pleasure is so powerful it makes me cry.

It’s something we did only a few times per year, but something I like to roll around in my head during my rides. In my imagination I was teasing my husband by sliding just the opening of my pussy over his penis. One inch, no more. I knew his tip was on fire, and I would clench and release my muscles over and over. He said it was like my pussy was sucking on him, like a hungry kitten to a mother’s teat. Whatever, honey!

Back in the real world, I was climaxing. This is the dangerous part, as a woman’s natural instinct is to close her eyes. Obviously that’s not an option here, so I rode and came and kept my eyes wide open. When the spasms subsided, as they sadly always do, I stopped for water and a rest.

As I got my wind back, another woman, quite beautiful and athletic, rode by. She wasn’t whistling Dixie, that’s for sure. We exchanged a friendly wave, like two wet, happy pussies passing in the night!

That got to thinking. My husband once told me about what goes in those peep shows. Apparently men wander around dark rooms with their hands in their pockets, look at posters of silicone women, and wait for a cubicle to open so they can go in and masturbate to some bimbo behind a glass wall - for a fistful of coins of course.

Well here is where women win hands down. We can have as many orgasms as we can handle, at home or in the great outdoors, and not spend a single cent. We can orgasm on a horse, a motorcycle, or a skidoo. Positioned right, we can orgasm on a subway, a bus or a train. The power jets in a sauna work as well.

And, we can ride our bikes under clear, sunny skies. Five women, ten women – didn’t matter how many – none of us were relegated to the dark and dingy peep-show thrills. Sorry guys, but it’s our revenge for menstruation.

Enough philosophizing. I got back on my bike and headed for the treacherous trails, or Orgasm Alley as I liked to call it. The ladies weren’t coming here for Olympic tryouts.

Once on the trail, my clitoris was bumped and tickled and rubbed to one spectacular climax. I’m sure anyone within earshot knew what was going on. At this point I simply didn’t care. I rode it out until my pussy gave up its final squirt and relaxed. Whew, god bless sticks and stones.

I hate to end a day’s ride with so much drama, so I figured I needed another slow one before going home, and headed back to the oak groves.

Nothing erases tension like good, hard cum, and I was feeling pretty relaxed. Once I was back on the flat trail, I just rode around enjoying the fresh air, massaging my pussy, and thinking about my husband – naked of course.

I finished off my ride with one last, delicious orgasm. Not a strong one mind you, but one of those ‘Ferris wheel’ ones; gentle, long-lasting, and definitely worth the price of admission.

When I arrived home, my husband was still hard at work. He looked up and smiled when he saw me enter. I was flushed, sweaty, and ready for sex. Like I said, he can read my body, and was on his feet and pulling me into the bedroom before I could even get my helmet off.