Story: Thunderbolts
posted 5 days ago
From time to time I enjoy writing the occasional gear related smut story, and thought I'd share something here. Completely fictional, but i suppose it is an "encounter". If people are interested I'll post more. I also write the occasional custom story on commission, if you're interested just let me know. Hope you enjoy!
...
It had all started with an innocent compliment. Unlike many others in the world, Liam could pinpoint the moment his life changed. As he sat in the changeroom, staring into the visor of his white, aerodynamic helmet, with its integrated, darkly tinted visor reflecting his blue eyes back at him, the tall, lanky Australian could scarcely believe this rollercoaster began only a little over six months ago.
"Mate, great kit," said Liam, directing his gaze at the man in front of him in the small supermarket in rural Somerset. "Where'd ya get it?"
In truth, Liam didn't care all that much. He just needed the other guy to notice him so he would move out of the way in the narrow aisle. But it was the other guy's reaction that piqued his interest.
"Thanks," the other young man replied, his voice betraying a hint of self-consciousness. He was around Liam’s age, clearly in his late twenties, and a similar height to the Australian, but with a build that suggested he spent as much time in the gym as he did on the bike, with a solid, athletic musculature that was perfectly highlighted by his current attire. The cycling skinsuit he was wearing clung to his body like it had been painted on, highlighting every curve and contour. It was white, with bands of red, green, blue and black stripes around the right thigh, and had another band of stripes around the torso, just under his pecs. But it was the fit of the suit, rather than the design, that properly caught Liam’s attention as the man turned to face him.
The material was so thin, and stretched so tightly over the man’s solid musculature, that the white shoulders had become slightly opaque, revealing hints of a tattoo on the man’s right shoulder through the overstretched spandex clinging to it. Lower down, Liam could see the outline of the man's abs and belly button through the white section that covered his midriff. Involuntarily, Liam glanced at the unmistakable outline of the man’s penis, pressed tightly into the front of the suit, just below where the zipper ended. The suit was evidently so tight that it had also gone slightly opaque where his sizeable manhood pressed into it, with a prominent vein visible, snaking its way to the man’s cockhead. Even from this fleeting glance, Liam could see the man was cut.
The suit itself was overkill enough, but the guy also wore matching gloves, white with the same bands of red, green, blue, and black colouring his wrists, and Liam noted that his cycling shoes were also covered in lycra covers of the same design. Throughout the whole getup, there was not a single crease or wrinkle, stretched so taught was every strand of lycra.
"It's from the local club," he said, an odd smile crossing his face. "The coach is pretty serious about their gear."
Liam nodded, trying to seem unfazed and conceal his astonishment that someone would willingly choose to be seen in public dressed like this. "Oh, really? So that’s your race kit?"
"No, not exactly," the cyclist replied, rubbing the back of his thick neck. "This is just what we wear on all our rides."
Liam's eyes flicked down the man's body. This guy looked like he’d just stepped off an Olympic podium. "All your rides?" he echoed. "Even just to the shops?" He nodded at the basket half full of groceries in the man’s gloved hand.
The cyclist smiled. "Well, yeah. It's all about unity, you know? Dress like a team, feel like a team, ride like a team. Even when we're apart. That’s what our coach says. Plus, it's pretty comfy once you get used to it." He casually rubbed a gloved hand over his lycra covered torso as if to emphasise his point. Something about the innocuous gesture stuck in Liam's head. It seemed so overtly sexual somehow, and yet he couldn't explain why. And why was he even thinking about it like this?
"What's the team's name?" Liam asked, trying to distract his own train of thought. “I used to cycle a bit back home, but I’m pretty out of it these days.”
"The Thunderbolts," the cyclist said with a hint of pride. "You should come check us out sometime. We're always looking for new members. Tom, by the way." He extended his gloved hand.
Liam took it, shaking firmly. "Liam," he replied, feeling the cool, synthetic material of Tom's glove. "Just moved here from Brisbane."
"Ah, welcome to the UK, then," Tom said. "Thought that accent was pretty far afield. You'll love it here, especially if you’re looking to get back into cycling. If you're keen, you should come down to the clubhouse tonight. It’s just down on the other side of town, backs onto the village green. We have an informal social night once a month, it’s a good chance to meet some people if you’re new in town.”
“Thanks, if I can clear my evening tonight I'll come round.” replied Liam, smiling. In actuality, he had little to no intention of joining a hardcore cycling team in his first week in the UK, especially if Tom’s attire was any hint of their level of commitment to the sport. But he couldn’t help being slightly charmed by the other man’s affable nature, and it felt rude to dismiss him immediately. Best to let it drop by his absence later.
“Cool, hope to see you there.” Tom turned, and Liam watched in bemusement as the muscular cyclist clicked along the linoleum floor in his cleats, shoulder blades moving under the tight white suit covering them as he strode along purposefully. Tom rounded the corner at the end of the aisle, and disappeared from view.
...
