(story) Max gets motivated (F/m, inline skaters)
Encounters
posted 1 week ago
It was always a risk, getting changed into my speedsuit. The act of pulling the slick tight fabric over my dick was still a fantastic thrill, especially if anyone else was nearby. Zipping up and being enclosed from my wrists to my thighs made me feel like some kind of smooth alien who'd come to conquer Earth only to have my plans waylaid by the discovery of delicious skin-on-lycra friction.
Yeah, I was little weird. But once we started skating I'd forget about all of that nonsense. Most of the time it was just enough of a distraction to get me out to the training session without having to wait for yet another erection to finally shrivel up. I'd leave it until the last minute before getting changed to reduce the risk, so that a little time pressure would keep me on task. Everyone else thought I was shy.
I was in a relatively chipper mood, though. If I was the fastest in my age group in the club today, I'd be allowed to compete in the lowest of the senior divisions for the first time. That was pretty much a sure thing, given that my personal best was nearly a minute better than anyone else in my cohort. As long as I didn't get distracted.
I immediately got distracted. She walked in, sports bag slung over her shoulder, and clocked me from across the changing room. I got an instant tent in my lycra. "Waiting to watch the girls change?" she asked, and I blushed like a tomato. My tongue was tied in a knot, and I couldn't look away.
She was a compact, lithe looking girl of around my age. I'd never seen her before but I was getting a massive eyeful now. Dirty blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail, scruffy sneakers and a colourful tracksuit that had seen a few washes, but not recently. Her green eyes bored into me. She laughed at my continued silence. "You must be Max," she said, dropping her bag at her feet.
I nodded. "Hi," I croaked out. "New?" I asked. Aliens have a limited vocabulary, but it turns out you don't need to be good with words to fit in on this planet.
She had kicked off her shoes and was dropping her trackies, watching me all the while. I couldn't look away. She was wearing a club speedsuit, not like mine, a nifty number in blue, white and black. She had the heavy hard thighs and slight forward posture of a confirmed skater. I let out a small sigh as she unzipped her tracksuit top. Her upper body was tight under the lycra suit, lean yet curved. She had her skates on and buckled in a flash, and then she was in my face. "I'm Cass," she said. "I hear you're the one to beat if I want to race with the seniors."
"Um," I said, and that was all I said, because she had her hands on my lycra. One on my shoulder and one on my crotch.
"Thing is," she explained, as she stretched the lycra around my dick, and got her fist more or less around it, "these twats in my old club wouldn't let me race." She slid a handful of lycra up and down my shaft. "So I've come over here, and I'm going to show them, alright?"
"Unh," I said. My hands covered hers loosely, not exactly pushing her away, not exactly stopping her from doing what she was doing to me.
"And you're not going to stop me, are you Max?" she said. She tightened her grip so that I moaned in something that wasn't quite pain. "Are you?"
"Nuh," I said.
"Good boy." She wanked me off quickly and efficiently through my lycra, and I was beyond caring about wet spots or wondering if this was me finally losing my virginity. It was better than anything I had ever felt, the slick lycra and her confident grip on my dick were too much for me to resist. In less that thirty seconds she had me coming so hard my knees were wobbling.
I don't know how long I stayed curled up on the bench. I eventually got myself moving. I hadn't missed the time trial, although I had missed most of the warmup. Cass streaked away at the whistle and I had to push hard to get close to her, burning energy that I would need later in the race. My knees felt weird and floaty, my dick had shriveled up almost completely to avoid the wet spot, which I hoped no-one had had time to notice. I'd cleaned up what I could before coming out.
My efforts were paying off, and I closed the gap to her, although I could never quite manage to overtake. Her form was beautiful, her thick thighs and lycra-clad arms in perfect synchrony, and her line around the bends was perfect, leaving me no opportunity to pass.
I found myself close enough to have an excellent view of her rear end. She was bent over so far I swear I could see the outline of her pussy lips through the tightly stretched shiny lycra. I was so close I convinced myself I could smell her. I don't think I consciously did anything to make it happen, but a couple of laps before the end, as we tucked in tight to the curve, me right behind her and matching her rhythm to avoid clashing, the tip of my nose brushed the cleft between her legs. I was momentarily stunned, but I used the burst of adrenaline to swing out wide to try and pass her.
Cass looked over her shoulder and grinned. "Max," was all she said, shaking her head slightly. Then she powered away from me, and I gave everything I had left, but she reached the finish line before I'd even come out of the final bend.
I collapsed on my back, chest heaving. She stood over me, doing the same, looking down her nose at me with a smirk. I wondered what kind of sports bra she wore that would hold her so tight but still let her breathe like that.
The coach came over and told us our times. I'd beaten my personal best by two minutes. Cass hadn't even come close to hers. She'd done just enough to beat me without wasting her energy. I knew when I was outclassed.
She helped me up, but my legs were still wet noodles and I nearly staggered. "Two minutes off your PB," she said. "Not bad." She kept a supportive arm around my waist as we skated back to the changing room. "I think I'll wank you off before every race."
"Uh," I said.
"And maybe after, too," she added, her hand at my waist sneaking around to probe my crotch. My cock twitched, seeking out her touch. Lycra slid across my skin.
"Oh, fuck," I said, in a small voice.
"Get used to it, Max," said Cass. "Winning gets me going. Hope you're not too tired for a bit more training." She brought a hand up to my chin, squeezed it gently. "Let me see that tongue." She smiled at me coyly. "You're gonna lick my sweaty bumhole, cute boy."
She had a pair of kneepads in her bag. Just for me.
