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On a major stage race, like le Tour, the ride leader on any team, especially if he was wearing the leader’s jersey, would ride inside a protective bubble of other teammates on the flat roll in to any mountain stage. Slowly, as the road pitched up, riders would peel off until the last few climbers remained to lead up the hill. Finally, as the pace got too great for even them, it was left to the leader to pull out and take over the stage.Jane, Beth and I formed the bubble, with Melody in our center. The formation served the dual purposes of breaking the wind and keeping our designated climber out of trouble. I used my race elbows to fend off anyone we overtook, and anyone who wanted to pass had to expend an enormous amount of energy to ride around all of us in a clump. Since the objective of the bubble was to make other teams hurt if they wanted past, so much the better.As we approached the actual penultimate climb to the summit, Jane and I peeled off and started to drift back. Beth. The black bastard barely looked at me.He fucked Ana in front of me; enjoying her sexy body in all possible positions. She even begged him to take her asshole; but Jerome said that he was in the mood just for fuck her nice sweet cunt…As they were resting to continue a bit later; Jerome asked Ana about her sex fantasies. Then she told him that she was dreaming about being used and abused by a gang of filthy niggers…Jerome laughed loud saying he could arrange to fulfill her fantasy.One of his mates was going to be married soon. Jerome and other friends wanted to throw him a bachelor party next week…The point was that he wanted to hire a female stripper that also would accept some extra money to have sex with the party guests.Then he thought Ana could perform as a stripper; earn some extra dollars and get fucked for all these horny black guys.Of course Anita was delighted about hearing his dirty proposal. Jerome told her they would be at least a dozen black well hung guys, but Ana smiled.
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+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ‘Not tonight, John. Please. I’m so sore,’ I told him, half-laughing. We were lying in bed together, the candlelight casting flickering shadows across our naked bodies. His hands were trailing all over me, but I was exhausted. We had made love every night for an entire week. While I enjoyed it (a huge understatement), I was also newly deflowered, my sex not yet accustomed to the harsh, demanding pressure of his. I was sore, and I had dark fingerprints on my hips. He didn’t know about those—I hoped he wouldn’t find out. John was a great one for berating himself. His roaming hands stopped, and he rolled away. ‘I’m sorry, Eleanor. I should have thought about that.’ I smiled. ‘Forgiven.’ I leaned over and snuffed out the candle by the bedpost. ‘I want you to know something,’ said John after a few minutes, his voice sounding abruptly in the dark. ‘Hmm?’ I said muzzily, feigning sleepiness. I was, in fact, wide awake, and highly aware of his fiery warmth.

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