“Fuck me,” he mumbled. The movement of his lips sent a bead of sweat cascading through his moustache, across his upper lip and into his mouth – the saltiness a testament to the heat and humidity. He knew better than to brake – with a flat tire, braking was a recipe for losing control – but he stopped pedalling and let himself coast to a stop.

Evan held his bike by the saddle as he pressed his fingers against the rear tire, which was now well deflated. In one smooth motion, he flipped the bike upside down on the saddle and the handlebars in the grass next to the bike path. He crouched and rested on his haunches as he unzipped the saddlebag to fetch a spare tube and his handheld pump.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he said, closing his eyes in disgust, his voice louder now. He removed the handheld pump and stood up, remembering that he hadn’t replaced the spare tube in his saddle bag after his last puncture. He was immobile for a few seconds, his hands on his hips. In his cycling kit, Evan looked particularly slim and tall – his cycling shoes made him an inch taller, nearly 6’4”, and his black bib shorts and white jersey clung to his sinewy frame, highlighting his muscular thighs and trim, toned upper body. He removed his helmet, setting it down next to the bike, before running a hand through his brown hair. Normally wavy, it was slick with sweat.

Evan tried to think about the last person he had passed. On a Saturday morning, he wouldn’t have to wait long, but this was a Wednesday afternoon – middle of the day. If he were lucky, someone would come through in the next half an hour, but he’d need them to have a spare tube for him. He didn’t love his chances. He got to work removing the wheel from his bike and prying the tire off the wheel. He hated changing flats. He thought to himself that he should just bite the bullet and buy tubeless run-flats next time.

After removing the tire and extracting the tube, he began to run his fingers over it, trying to find the puncture. If someone didn’t come along soon – and he didn’t have his hopes up – he’d have to stuff the tire with grass. It would make for a miserable ride back.

“Need a hand?” Evan was so focused on trying to find the puncture that he hadn’t heard someone approaching. He looked up and was greeted with a pleasant sight: a woman, maybe in her early thirties, in a light purple cycling jersey that, despite its compression and the sports bra he was sure she was wearing, did little to conceal her feminine figure and a white helmet. The woman still had her sunglasses on, so Evan couldn’t make out the expression in her eyes, but he detected the faintest teasing tone in her voice.

He offered up a soft laugh and shrugged his shoulders. “I could use a spare tube if you have one by any chance,” he said. “Guess I forgot to double check before I left.”

The woman took off her glasses and slid them into her helmet. Evan was immediately struck by her green eyes. As she stepped off her bike, Evan couldn’t help but watch as her ass jiggled, compressed by her bib shorts. “Yeah,” she said, unzipping her saddle bag, “I’ve got a few spares. Do you need a pump, too?”

“Ah,” Evan said, holding up the small black pump and waving it side to side, “that I remembered somehow.” He flashed a smile. “Thanks for stopping, by the way, I wasn’t sure if I’d come across anybody else on a weekday.” There was a moment as she fished out the spare tube, but the silence was filled with the sounds of cicadas and birds from the woods to Evan’s left and the faint sound of the river beyond that.

When the woman looked up, she had a tube in her hand. She walked over and gave it to Evan and he could smell the sunscreen on her skin. “Don’t mention it,” she said, “I’d hope you’d stop for me if the roles were reversed.”

Evan smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I think I’d stop.” He started to put the tube into the tire, working his way around the circumference. “How much further are you headed along this way?” He nodded ahead, in the direction he had been headed. “If you can wait five minutes for me to get pumped up, happy to take turns in the wind.”

“Yeah,” she asked, watching Evan’s hands move and flex as he forced the tire back into the wheel, taking note of the veins in his hands, running up along his forearms, “you think you can keep up?” She unzipped her jersey a bit, revealing her collarbones. “Or are you just going to stare at my ass the whole time?”

Evan was taken aback. He looked at her and then looked back at the tire, stammering a bit. “If I say I would never, that’s kind of insulting, but if I don’t deny it, that makes me a bit of a creep?” He struggled to get the last inch of the tire squeezed back into the well, forcing it in with his hands, exertion visible in his voice and the slightest grunt audible as he managed to get the bead in.

Cassidy raised an eyebrow at this – not that Evan could see. “I’m just messing with you,” she said, “but I wouldn’t blame you if you did, strenuous physical exercise makes people horny.”

Again, Evan fumbled the wheel as tried to line up the opening of the pump with the cold, hard metal valve. “Is that so,” he asked, looking up from the tire and making eye contact with Cassidy. Suddenly, he felt a bit daring. “I thought that was just me.” He flashed a quick smile before turning back to the tire and began to work the pump, holding it steady with his left hand and moving the right up and down. It only took a few seconds before he started to feel the burn in his forearms and biceps.

Cassidy watched intently as Evan pumped the tire. She realized that she didn’t know his name. “I’m Cassidy, by the way…” her voice trailed off.

“Evan,” he replied, his breathing a bit more pronounced, cutting off the end of his name tersely. “Shouldn’t be much longer,” he managed to say.

“Take all the time you want,” Cassidy said, “I don’t mind the breather, honestly.” She reached for a bottle on her bike and held it aloft, tilting it towards her mouth and squirting the water onto her tongue. “Do you often ride alone?”

Evan could feel the sweat beading on his forehead again. He stopped pumping for a second and wiped his brow with his shoulder before looking at Cassidy. “I’d say I almost always ride alone – hard to find compatible partners, honestly.”

Cassidy took a step closer to him so that her shadow lingered over his back. “And what makes a compatible partner for Evan, I wonder?”

He glanced up – the curves of her thighs, the flatness of her stomach in her compression jersey, the way her chest was seemingly trying to escape from it.

“Someone who doesn’t mind when I stare,” he said, deadpan. From his point of view, he could see a mischievous smile creeping across her face. “What about you, do you usually ride alone?” He gave a few final pumps before standing up.

Cassidy ogled Evan’s legs and his rear, with his frame slightly bent at the waist and flexed as he fastened the quick release axle. Again, she ignored his flirtatious comment. But she was glad that he was warming up a bit. “Didn’t used to. But then I found out my boyfriend was fucking a girl on our group ride, so now I’m single and ride alone.”

Evan stood up and placed his hands on his hips, considering what Cassidy had said. It was disarmingly honest. “That sucks, I’m sorry to hear that,” was all he could muster. He noticed, for the first time, how her hair was braided into a long ponytail, draped over her shoulder. He could feel himself getting slightly aroused and, considering he was wearing lycra bib shorts, he knew that there was a non-zero chance Cassidy could notice his bulge growing. “Not to be that guy,” he said, emphasizing the last two words of the phrase, “but nature calls, give me, like, a minute and we can head off, yeah?”

Stepping in the forest, making his way through the cover until he couldn’t distinctly make out Cassidy or their bikes. Still, he decided to turn around, facing a small tree, with his back towards the bike path. As he urinated, he could make out the river flowing beyond the trees. He was about halfway to the water from the paved path. He waited a few seconds after emptying his bladder, hopeful that his shaft would soften ever so slightly before he pulled his bib shorts back up.

“Playing with it?” Cassidy’s voice was playful but it startled him.

It wasn’t easy to pull his bib shorts back up, so he turned around, with his hand covering his member. “Jesus Christ,” he said. She was closer than he thought, only a few feet away. “No, I’m not. How long have you been there?”

“Few seconds,” she said, taking a step closer, brushing the low shrubbery out of the way, twigs snapping under her cycling shoes. “Don’t be shy.” Her voice was softer and lower and Evan could almost feel the slight vibration emanating from the base of her throat. She reached out and put her hand on Evan’s wrist, moving his hand away from his sex. Evan took note of the fact that she wasn’t wearing cycling gloves and of the fact that she had manicured nails, cut short, but well-rounded and painted black. Her fingers were delicate and her hand was hot to the touch. He could feel his shaft swelling with blood and made a concentrated effort to ignore the sensation.

“So,” he said, his own voice raspier, “is this what you do? Just prey on unsuspecting guys with flat tires?” He was suddenly acutely aware of the sound of rushing water, the way the leaves were brushing against one another in the wind.

“Only the cute ones,” she said, matter of factly. “Looks like you’re enjoying it, though.” She released his wrist, gently and tugged on his bib shorts, freeing his hardening cock and his scrotum. She ran her fingers along his shaft, almost tickling it until her index and middle finger reached his balls. “Cute cock, too.”

Evan thought about what would happen if someone came upon their bikes, his was upturned, but hers was either lying on its side or leaning against a small tree next to the path. Would someone wander into the woods and see them? Did he care if they did? No, he didn’t. He stopped ignoring his hardening manhood and allowed the feeling of warmth to spread from his prostate into his balls and shaft, feeling it grow in Cassidy’s hand. He reached his hand out and unzipped her jersey more, revealing a tight white sports bra underneath. Her nipples were poking through the fabric. He ran his fingers over them, bringing his own index and middle finger closer together on either side of each one. He could feel her breathing change, just as he was sure she could feel his. He leaned in and kissed her neck, tasting the saltiness, feeling with his tongue the small crystals that hard formed from the sweat beading on her skin. He bit on her sun-kissed flesh gently, tugging on it playfully. He felt her hand tighten its grip on his shaft and his balls, cupped in the palm of her hand. She let out a little moan.

“I guess it’s fun to be the one getting action on the ride,” she said, quietly.

“Yeah,” Evan asked as he ran his hand from her covered breasts, along her slim, toned stomach, his long fingers working their way between her tight lycra shorts and her pelvis. “You like being the one getting felt up when you’re all sweaty?” He kissed her neck again and moved to her mouth, his tongue darting between her lips and wrestling with her own. She started to move her hand along his shaft, now thick and throbbing, and already a bit wet, covered in musky sweat.

“I do,” Cassidy moaned, “I want you to fuck me right here.” She stroked his cock faster. Evan’s fingers made their further into her shorts and he could feel her bare pussy was slick, part sweat, part arousal. His fingers deftly circled her clit, pressing down on it as he bit her lip. Their breathing getting heavier, no words spoken, the sound of nature the soundtrack to their tryst, the cicadas hummins, the water running, the leaves rustling, their orgasms building, quickly, in the heat of the moment. He pressed his long, dextrous middle finger down along her labia, parting them. Cassidy moaned. Evan pushed his finger inside her. “Fuck,” she said, her voice muffled by his mouth, her tongue wrapped around his, the words never making their way into the forest air, hanging in limbo between their mouths. He worked his finger around inside her, feeling her walls, letting her pussy envelop his digit.

Everything felt tight – her pussy clenching his finger, her hand gripping his shaft, her lycra shorts pressing his forearm against her stomach, holding his hand between her parted legs, even the air around them felt tight, as if it were compressing them together. He moved his finger deeper, faster, pressing against her walls.

Evan pulled his hand from her shorts, bringing his fingers to her mouth, letting her taste herself on his long fingers, then sliding his hand back down into her tight shorts, finding their way back inside her – this time both his middle finger and index. He brought his mouth back to hers, tasting her on her tongue, enjoying it. He moved his fingers inside her more forcefully, pressing tightly against her inner walls until her felt her tighten. He bit her lip. He groaned into her mouth. He could smell her everywhere around him, drowning out the odorous flowers and trees that surrounded them.

“Right there,” she moaned, pressing her chin into the crook of his neck, biting down on his shoulder, her hand no longer moving on his shaft, but, instead, gripping it in turn more and less firmly and, to Evan, in this situation, that made him pulse with envy and desire and pleasure. He wanted her. All of her. And he barely knew her. This felt primal, though. As nature intended. He didn’t think about how he was moving his fingers anymore. But he could feel that Cassidy’s body approved. That it was as if his fingers were controlling her body, puppetting her being from deep inside her pussy. And with a few subtle motions, he could feel her tightening around him. Her voice lost to moans. The birds and cicadas seemingly aware and suddenly eerily silent.

“Fuck,” she let out, half gasp, half declaration, entirely honest, though. “I’m going to cum.” And she did. Evan could feel it. The way her pussy tightened around his fingers. So tight he could feel her pulse. And soon he felt as if his own was mimicking hers.

When she opened her eyes, Cassidy looked at Evan with a primal hunger, dropping quickly to her haunches and taking him her mouth before he knew what was happening. She slowly pulled her head back, making sure to keep it wrapped tightly between her lips and, as she pulled her mouth away, she stuck her tongue out, a long, thin strand of spit bridging the gap between his shaft and her mouth. She pushed the tip of his manhood back into her mouth, bobbing her head back and forth slowly, but with an increasingly quick tempo. Cassidy looked up at him and grinned — or at least, to the extent that she could with his cock in her mouth. As they made eye contact, she began moving her head back and forth more quickly, making an effort to leave more spit on his hardened shaft, the sound of her throat welcoming his cock filling the forest. Evan brought his fingers, still damp with her wetness to his mouth and licked her juices off his hand, savouring the taste of her on his tongue, swirling it around in his mouth like a fine whiskey before swallowing it.

Cassidy pulled her head back for a second. She licked her lips. There was saliva on her chin. “I want you to cum for me,” she said, before she swallowed his cock again. Evan was overcome with pleasure — the tip of his cock was incredibly sensitive. He couldn’t look away. Instead he watched as Cassidy bobbed her head back and forth, welcoming every inch of his manhood — savouring it.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled, "I'm going to cum." She could feel his cock twitching in her mouth. She pulled her head back a little bit. She wanted to swallow it, but she wanted to taste it on her tongue — she wanted to feel his warm, tangy cum in her mouth before she swallowed it down her throat. She looked up at him as his cock twitched. He was overcome with pleasure. He felt the blood rush out of his head and he felt his legs tingle.

She ran her tongue greedily over the tip of his cock, sending shivers cascading up his spine until he tilted his head backwards, a groan escaping from his lips as his eyes opened ever so slightly, glimpsing the blue sky through the cover of the trees above.