Old Green Bike

[SwimTeamSpeedo]

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.