Girls on Bicycles Smile as They Remember Their First Orgasm
Girls on bicycles present a picture of both unsullied innocence and deep sexuality.
I remember when I was young watching other girls on bicycles and admiring the way their bottoms shifted and danced as they moved up and down, up and down. Did I look the same: stylish and chic, wild and a little wanton?
My first sexual experience wasn’t with the gardener, as Mother always suspected, but with the tip of the triangular-shaped seat rubbing rhythmically against my groin and sending sensations I didn’t know existed up through my developing body. There is no feeling in the world better than building up speed on your bike, then rolling down hill with your legs spread out and your cleft on the monorail of a hot leather saddle.
It is not an urban myth that men surreptitiously sniff the seats of girls’ bicycles. The boiler man at school spent hours in the bike sheds leaning over the saddles when he thought no one was looking.
Girls walking down the street often attract whistles, hissing, lewd comments, the occasional grope. One man actually slapped my ass once as I passed. Girls on bicycles gliding by with their skirts billowing like sails on a windy day don’t hear the comments and are going too fast for itinerant hands to reach out and touch them.
Are their knickers showing as they ride by? Of course they are. That’s half the fun. Girls on bicycles wear flared skirts to reveal cheeky peeks of all that is normally hidden. We are the daughters of Eve with temptation in our genes. Girls like being naked. Get over it!
Girls on Bicycles Time Machine
Girls and cars form a bond that is macho dominated, as if the automobile is holy object demanding that we go down on our knees to anoint with our little pink tongues. Some girls I know, not mentioning any names, have an instant urge to reach for fly buttons and give head the moment they hear a car engine roar.
It’s not the whiff of gasoline that drives girls on bicycles, but the free clean air of the open road. They are not controlled by the machine. They control the machine. It runs through the power of their strong calf and thigh muscles. A bicycle without a rider is a useless heap of rubber and metal. With the rider, it its a two-wheeled gypsy queen from planet Lust, the ninth star in the Erotic Galaxy.
The bicycle is a time machine. It takes you back to who you were. When one sense is diminished, the others burn more brightly. In a blindfold, you feel every minute motion of your lover’s hand as it crosses your body. Girls on bicycles feel a tension in their thighs and remember their first orgasm. That’s why girls on bicycles are always smiling.
“I am never disappointed when I read a Chloe Thurlow book. More than the story for me, it is the way Thurlow links sentences and words and images together that astound me. She creates vignettes and scenes that are literally alive with literary genius. I mean this sincerely. I find her to be one of the best contemporary writers of our day. And a champion for the sexual freedom of women at its best and most gritty.” R.B. O’Brien, Amazon