A naked girl on a bicycle. What could be more natural, on a perfect Spring day? I’m ready to ride, wearing nothing but my sneakers, my feet strapped to the pedals.
Sun streams in through the windows of the exercise studio, illuminating my mirror image, her hair shining like a halo. I raise a hand to her in greeting and she acknowledges me with a smile and a salutation.
The tranquil silence is broken as the music starts, low and melodic at first. I begin to pedal, not too fast, finding my rhythm. My body is soon attuned to the music pumping through my veins, heartbeat in synchrony. My skin tingles as a breeze sweeps over me, heightening my sense of anticipation.
The bicycle seat is hard and unyielding, pressing against my crotch, narrowing my attention to the pulsing core of sexual energy within me. As I ride, the leather grows slippery, moistened with my sweat, slick with my arousal. My thigh muscles are taut, calves strong; my abs and glutes flex, my breasts sway and bounce, nipples stiffening. My whole body feels alive with the joy of physical exertion.
The music gathers pace and I pedal faster, feeling energy coursing through me. My mirror image looks less angelic now, perspiration trickling into her cleavage, little rivulets I want to catch with my tongue. As that thought flashes into my mind, it’s accompanied by a nudging sensation against my pussy. Something is rising through the center of the saddle. It’s smooth and rounded, like the head of a cock, pushing up against my wet opening. Not breaking my cycling rhythm, I wriggle to grant it entrance. It is immediately bathed in my juices, lubricating its intrusion.
I steal a glance at my doppelganger; she meets my eyes with a crafty look, her hips rocking side to side, as if accommodating an intruder of her own. It must be so; she gasps, and I feel an answering spasm drawn from my own body as the saddle’s appendage surges deeper inside me. I’m skewered, my body held in place as my sugar walls stretch and cling around it.
The music rises again, in pace and volume, thundering through me. My pumping legs move to the beat, my heart pounding. And now I become aware that the bicycle is fucking me in time to the music, in time to my spinning feet, thrusting into me a little deeper with each circuit of the pedals.
My thighs are already shaking with the effort of rising and falling in the saddle, but now each lift is rewarded by a dragging pressure over my G-spot, and each time I sink back down I’m slammed full of cycle-cock, knocking the breath out of me. The pleasure is intense, juice seeping out to coat my thighs, endorphins rushing through me. I return to my start position, fully seated so the cycle’s dick can fill me to the hilt with each spin of the pedals. It’s wider at the base, hammering my G-spot hard, my clit rubbing the saddle with a delicious friction.
The pace picks up again. My legs are burning, but oh, the sweet ache of the penetration, the thrust and drag of each stroke as it fills me and pulls back. It slides in and out like a mechanical part, my body an integral component of the cycle, my pussy a well-oiled socket, my pistoning legs driving the mechanism.
Uncontrollable bliss begins to rise within me, duel sparks at my G-spot and clit igniting, blazing through my clenching cunt. My pace falters, coordination lost as I shudder and buck in the saddle, pinned from within. But my mirror companion keeps pedalling steadily to the beat, and now I see that she’s the one controlling the rhythm of my bike’s cock.
She flashes me a wicked smile, pedalling faster and harder as the music approaches a crescendo, fucking me furiously, the cock plunging relentlessly. I reach my peak as the music does, hips stuttering then convulsing crazily, pussy gripping and quivering on the phallic protrusion.
Now my mirror twin’s pace eases, screwing me more gently through the aftershocks. I tilt my hips to adjust the angle of penetration, grinding the shaft against my sweet spot, milking out every drop of pleasure.
The music calms to a steady tempo and we cycle in unison again, a slow comfortable screw, the cycle’s cock sliding in and out easily as my muscles relax around it. And now it occurs to me that if my mirror twin controls the pace of my bike’s cock, I must control hers… I pedal a little harder and sure enough, I see her body respond with a little jump and shiver. I go harder still, gratified by the way she flinches and rocks.
The music soars to 130bpm, then to 140, and I sprint; my quads are screaming with the effort, but my reward is in seeing my mirror twin twitch and buck in the saddle, humping up and down on the shaft impaling her, juice dripping out to mingle with the sweat pooled on the floor. As the track hits its climax so does she, bliss enveloping her so powerfully she seems to glow in the bright sunlight.
As we pedal though the warm down, I feel the cycle’s appendage withdraw slowly, leaving me slipping around in my cream-glossed saddle, flooded with endorphins, exhausted and exhilarated. My mirror image leaves the studio as I dismount, legs shaky. No doubt I’ll be feeling the burn for hours to come…
Thanks for reading! If you’re a regular reader, you’ll know I usually write about my own sexual experiences. “Wet Dreams” is something a little different — a collection of fantasies, daydreams, and writing prompts from you horny folks, all interwoven with telling little details from my real life adventures, naturally. Let me know what you think! Your comments follows and claps get me hot 😉
More confessions from me here — if you think you can handle it! Maybe take a cold shower first…
