Caroline's Naked Ride

She had to. She wouldn't forgive herself for chickening out again. Quickly, she shimmied out of her shorts and was naked from the waist down (as far as her shoes, anyway), right off a usually busy London street. Just as quickly, she pulled her T-shirt up and over ... damn! She had forgotten to take her helmet off first. Her T-shirt was up and over her head, covering her face, but her arms were tangled in the sleeves and she couldn't get her helmeted head through the neck hole. She was flailing about, virtually stark naked on a busy London street, and she couldn't even see if the smoker or another pedestrian came by!

It seemed an eternity but was probably only half a minute, but she finally managed to unbuckle her helmet and remove it and the shirt together. She extracted the helmet and put it back on. She looked down at her naked body and felt a surge of excitement tinged with fear. She was really doing it! But what if someone did see her? What if someone recognised her? She fished out her large sunglasses and put them on, hoping that would be enough of a disguise. The streets were well-enough lit that she could see even in sunglasses, but it was dark enough out that her shadowy naked figure wouldn't be obvious to anyone from a distance, or so she hoped.

She looked at her bike and asked herself, for the first time that it was particularly relevant, whether she should lift her leg forward and over the bar or swing it back and over the seat. There was no one around to see either way, so she did what she usually did and swung her leg back. She planted her foot on the pedal and pushed off. She was hardly a hundred metres from Victoria Station and cycling starkers, all by herself. For the first half mile or so along her usual daily commuting route, she saw no pedestrians or cars on the road.

Then she saw a pedestrian ahead on the opposite side, walking in the same direction with his or her back to her. Feeling a bit giddy with the thrill of riding naked (and perhaps still with the wine), she simply sped up and zipped past. She was close enough that the pedestrian must have noticed a cyclist passing, but had he or she noticed that she was naked? Would an average pedestrian even bother to look up at a passing cyclist? Given that Caroline herself couldn't tell if the pedestrian was male or female, what would the pedestrian have noticed even if he or she had looked up? Caroline certainly heard no reaction, so she assumed she'd got away with it and let out a little sigh of relief.

She soon arrived next to the small triangular park where her quiet side street merged into a much busier road. Caroline suddenly panicked that the upcoming stretch would be too exposed. Quickly, she hopped off her bike and ducked into the park to give herself time to think. She often visited the farmers market there on weekends, and it felt strange and thrilling to be standing there naked. Though there were a few trees, the park did not really provide any shelter to speak of other than being a bit darker than the roads. Caroline tried to think of the most suitable back streets to divert into, though this would mean leaving her direct commuting route. A car passed, but Caroline did not think the driver could have seen her.

After that, though, it was quiet again, and Caroline realised the main road was much less trafficked at that hour than she expected. She was enjoying not just the marvellous sense that she was cycling stark naked, but that she was doing so on the route she followed daily, and she didn't want to leave it. So she mounted her bike again and charged straight ahead along the main road. There were still no cars or pedestrians. Wow, she thought.

She approached a junction. She had a green light, but there was a taxi stopped at the red light on the crossing street. Caroline would either have to cycle straight on and right in front of the taxi, or stop and wait in hope that it would move on without the driver seeing her. This would mean, however, waiting by the side of the road for a minute or two for the lights to change, and it was just as likely another car (or more than one) would come along either on her road or the one crossing. She decided that flying by one taxi was better than the risk of standing around in view of several, so she dashed across the junction. The driver must have seen something as it flashed through his headlamps, and this time Caroline was less sure he was unlikely to notice that it was a naked woman. Still, the world did not come to an end.

She was soon past the junction and speeding along the usually busy but now deserted road and approaching a turnoff she often took on the way home if she needed to stop by a minimarket along the way. Her 'usual' daily route therefore actually had two alternative versions. It was definitely quieter to go past the minimarket -- which would be closed now -- so Caroline turned and found herself in a quiet residential street. She slowed her pace a little and caught her breath. Though the market was closed, there was a pub this way and it would still be open. She just hoped she would pass before closing time, when all the customers would be filing out.

She did make it before closing time, but as luck would have it there were two customers coming out anyway as she passed. They saw Caroline and cheered. Slightly embarrassed, she pointed to the WNBR posters on the back of her bicycle, hoping that would explain what she was doing cycling naked. In fact, though, the men weren't even wondering what her motivation was -- they were just happy to admire the view.

Once past the pub, Caroline took the opportunity to look down at her naked body properly for the first time since she'd started cycling. She looked particularly at her crotch to see what was visible above her bicycle seat.

Caroline's bike was configured between the very upright stance of some of the women she'd seen in Brighton and the nearly horizontal racing stance of some others. Her torso leant forward when her hands rested on the handlebars, but not very much. A spectator in front would have a full-on view of her breasts and tummy (and she noticed with pride how flat and toned the latter looked). Below that, Caroline could see virtually all of her sandy-blonde pubic hair, which obscured her own view of what was underneath. She could only just see the nose of her saddle with its bright green cover sticking out between her thighs as they moved up and down. Caroline had a lady's seat, so it was shorter in front than the 'men's' seats even some women used. This meant there was not a long expanse of seat for her vulva to rest on hidden from view, though with her semi-upright posture it wouldn't have done so anyway unless she had rolled her lower torso very far forward.

Curious to see how much was potentially exposed, she reached down and gingerly parted her moderately sparse pubic hair with two fingers, exposing not only the entire top half of her labia, but also her two-inch long clitoral hood. Both were enlarged and flushed dark pink, and her hood was partially retracted. Oh, my! she thought. Then she reached down with her middle finger and felt the mouth of her vagina, which was sopping wet. Oh MY! This isn't supposed to be about sex, it is supposed to be about cycling and independence. Why am I so aroused? She was glad at least that the pub wasn't her local and that she hadn't recognised anyone.

After another half mile winding through side streets, Caroline was nearing home. Between her and her front door was a street to cross that was usually busy, and beyond that lay her street, which was apt to be even busier despite the late hour, not to mention the bus stop just along from the door to the a block of flats where she lived. Though she knew the street and bus stop would be less busy late on a Sunday than at other times, there were still bound to be some cars and people around and she didn't dare run the risk of being recognised by a neighbour or even seen entering her block by someone who might recognise her later. Reluctantly, she brought her mad, naked ride to an end about a quarter mile from home. She dismounted in a deserted street, retrieved her clothes from her pannier and put them on before finishing her journey.

While she was riding that last, clothed quarter mile, though, there were far fewer people and cars than she had feared -- probably no more than had seen her fly past already that night. Even more surprisingly, there was actually no one in sight when she arrived at her front door. As she unlocked it and pushed her bike into the block, she realised she could have made it all the way completely naked without being seen by more than a couple of people and that she would not have been recognised or even seen entering her front door. Oh, well, maybe another time, she thought with a laugh, as if that will ever happen.

She wheeled her bike to the back and through the door to the light well where bicycles were stored. Looking up, she saw that the windows of her flat were all dark and realised that Mike must have gone to bed early as he had to get to work very early the next day. Still flushed with the thrill of having been naked in unaccustomed places and disappointed it had all ended so soon, she had another mischievous idea and slipped her clothes off again. She felt a tingle of excitement over every inch of her bare skin, especially those most sensitive areas of her nipples and sex. What if someone catches me on the stairs? she thought. She thrilled at the danger.

This time she removed her shoes and helmet as well and stuffed everything into her pannier along with her long-neglected knickers. She added her sunglasses and the little gold pendant she usually wore, locked the door to the bike storage in the light well and padded silently and breathlessly up the stairs to her flat, as completely naked as it was possible to be, her pannier in one hand and her keys in the other. Even though she had spent twenty minutes cycling naked outside and now that she was inside the building she was unlikely to meet a neighbour on the stairs at that hour, it somehow felt more naughty and dangerous. If she heard anyone coming, her only refuge would be to duck around a corner on one of the landings out of sight -- as long as it didn't turn out to be the landing the other person was headed for. The thought of that felt dangerous ... and thrilling.

When she got to her flat door several flights up, she peeked through the letter slot and, seeing no sign of lights or movement, she very quietly turned her key in the lock, opened her door and slipped in. Closing the door silently behind her, she leant against it and realised she had been holding her breath. She breathed out and in a few times. There should have been nothing remarkable about being naked in her own flat, but if Mike suddenly found her like that he would wonder what the hell was going on. Quietly, she put down her pannier and hung up her keys and then tip-toed down the corridor, past her closed bedroom door. She went into the bathroom, closed the door and turned on the light. Her eyes were overwhelmed by the sudden brightness, but also by the sight of herself in the full length mirror. Being stark naked in her own bathroom was even less remarkable, but thinking back to what she had just done, she was exhilarated. She also thought her naked body looked stunning. Maybe I should let more people enjoy the sight sometime, she thought. One step at a time, though.

With that, she turned off the light and crept across to her bedroom door and silently turned the handle. Inside, she could hear Mike gently snoring. She tip-toed up to the bed, lifted the covers and slipped under them. Mike felt her arrive and mumbled something, half asleep. Caroline had no intention of going quietly to sleep, however, and she reached under the waistband of Mike's boxer shorts and took his penis ... his cock in her hands. As she slowly massaged it with her fingers, it seemed to stir to wakefulness faster than Mike, though he soon grunted something inarticulate and vaguely appreciative. Caroline took her hand out and with both hands pulled his boxers down and off. He was now awake and wondering what was going on. Then she straddled Mike's thighs and resumed massaging his cock until -- in very little time at all -- it was fully erect. Caroline moved her pelvis forward and slowly lowered herself down onto his now throbbing cock. She was still sopping wet, so it went in easily and Mike, though surprised, put up no resistance.

Caroline moved up and down on Mike's cock, slowly at first, and then with increasing speed. Soon she was slamming up and down, Mike's rock-hard cock slipping in and out of her sodden cunt -- there was no better word for it now -- with a slopping 'smack, smack, smack.' She imagined she was on her bicycle, pumping furiously, speeding stark naked through the crowded streets. She closed her eyes and remembered all the feelings stirred up when she first saw the ride participants naked and getting painted, then the terrifying thrill of stripping to her bra and knickers. She saw the man with the lovely, perfect cock. She relived all the remarkable moments of the ride itself, the fear of the pushy spectators at the start, then the free fun as the ride took off and especially when she shed her bra. She felt the sun, air and sea caressing her bare skin. Finally, she remembered her daring, mad naked ride through London -- the fear of being seen, the playful challenge of avoiding it, and then the rush of finally being seen by a handful of bystanders.

She cried out and came faster and stronger than ever before, but still she kept pumping. She ran her fingers through Mike's chest hair and leaned forward, as if straining uphill on her bike. Using Mike's cock as a guide, she tried to imagine how her change in posture affected what she would expose from behind -- especially as she rose up so that just the tip of Mike's cock was in her before it was rammed into her again and again. Every time she slammed down her clitoris rubbed against his pubic bone, sending a rhythmic electric surge through her and accentuating the continuous stretching and stimulation of her vagina. Her head swam with conflicting recollections or embarrassment and pride, a swirling mix of anticipation, fear, excitement, exhilaration and arousal. Every bit of her sex burned with pleasure that radiated throughout her body. She was well on her way to a second orgasm -- it would have been the first time that had happened -- when Mike began groaning and then, with a grunt, exploded inside her. She felt the warm jet of his semen as it shot up into her before slowly seeping back out over his softening cock, which she kept riding as long as she could. Finally, she rolled off him and onto her back beside him, spent. She could just reach over to grab some tissues and clean herself up as best she could without getting up, as she no longer felt capable of doing so.

"What was all that ab--" Mike started to ask, but Caroline just touched his lips with her finger.

"I'll tell you tomorrow." What on earth will I say tomorrow? she wondered, but soon she drifted off into a blissful sleep.

* * *

The sun was streaming in the window by their bed the next morning when Caroline looked up to see Mike, fully dressed and buckling his cycle helmet.

"I was afraid you'd oversleep," he said. "That was some surprise last night. You'll have to tell me tonight what you spent all your time talking about with Becky and Prudence. Bye." And he headed out the door.

As Caroline heard her flat door close shut, she sat bolt upright and threw off the covers. "The posters!" she cried. She had just remembered that her bicycle, next to Mike's in the rack, was still covered with World Naked Bike Ride posters and the green seat cover. She could never explain those to Mike! She jumped out of bed and ran down the corridor, grabbing her keys and dashing out the door and down the stairs. She was startled to meet her downstairs neighbour, Mrs. Lawton, a widow of sixty, on the landing below. Mrs. Lawton was even more startled, as Caroline was still stark naked.

"My goodness, dear. Look what you've done!" she said, with a tone of sympathy. Caroline suddenly realised what she meant and tried covering herself with her hands, though in her flustered state she kept switching the hands trying to cover her breasts and her groin and so didn't do a very good job of covering either. "Oh don't bother with that -- you don't have anything an old woman like me hasn't seen hundreds of times before. And don't be embarrassed. It's happened to all of us at one time or another. Have you locked yourself out? Come have a cup of tea while we sort you out."

"Oh, no, thank you. I've got my keys," replied Caroline, extremely relieved to find that was the case. There was no way she could have tea in her neighbour's flat completely naked. And what about Mike and the posters? Oh well, it's probably too late now, and I can hardly go down to meet him like this. "Thank you for the offer, though. Maybe another time. When I've got clothes on!"

"As you wish, dear. You're welcome any time. I hope you'll always feel as comfortable in my home as you do in yours!"

What did she mean by that? Caroline thought. Does she think I run around my own flat naked? And did she mean ...?

"Thanks," was all Caroline could say as she dashed back up the stairs, hoping not to meet another neighbour on the way. She fumbled with her keys at the door, first inserting the wrong one. It seemed to take ages, but finally she threw open the door and ran in, slamming it safely behind her. Catching her breath, she ran to the bathroom to throw water in her face, which was hot with embarrassment. In the bathroom, she caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror again and was horrified to see her pubic hair matted and encrusted, and even worse a big, white blotch of dried semen on the inside of her right thigh. Oh my god, she thought. Did Mrs Lawton notice that? She grabbed a flannel and began feverishly trying to rub it off, before realising there was no urgency any more. What was done was done. With a sigh, she turned on the shower and thought to herself, That's it. I'm never going to be naked again! But it wasn't going to be that simple.

THE END

From the Author

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed it, please leave positive feedback, and watch out for more.

Kelsey d'Eligny, author or 'Caroline's Naked Journey' and 'Naked Student Tales'