Cyclist riding plugged

Buttplugged on the London Cycle Network

Lance riding plugged

Lance is a slave mate, also known on-line as We've known each other for many years and met up for an evening session together. He turned up here on his racing push-bike in his lycra skinsuit. Like most serious cyclists there's not much hair on him and his legs are shaved. He's pretty muscular but skinny with it, the very specific lean muscular body type that long term cyclists become.

Lance proposed a bit of bondage together. Upstairs in the room with my workout weights he had me strip off, confirmed I was wearing the arse balls rattle that he'd brought me on a previous meet, and he fitted me with a steel kickboxing cup, boxing boots and a pair of his Bryan 14 oz boxing ring gloves from his competitive boxing days.

On the floor, he cuffed my hands in the gloves to the boots and groped and touched me up. This went on for some deliciously long time time but he was holding me off cumming. Then some salad downstairs - me untied and just his boxing boots, cock folded in the steel kickboxing cup and still the arse balls rattle. After that we did some more but he still didn't jack me off.

I bent Lance over my vaulting horse and plugged him with his double doorknob plug that's much bigger than one I would take, rezipped up his skinsuit, roughed up his tits a bit then got him downstairs. He left on the push bike with the boxing gear and not much else. No chance of removing the plug till he got home and resting on the saddle would just jab his bum even more.

Lance writes:

Thanks for the personal cycle training session last night. It's been a couple of months since I've ridden the bike wearing a buttplug, so the experience was even more intense than I had expected! Mind you, it got me moving!

You inserting that fat double knob 7-inch buttplug up my arse only lubricated with my own spit, and then zipping me back into my skinsuit before sending me home was a bastard thing to do! But oh man, did it improve my journey time!

Just as I was getting used to the searing pain up my arse I had to avoid a pedestrian in the North End Road, hitting a mega pothole in the process before I could get up off the split rail saddle. The thump of my whole body weight and that of my weighed down backpack onto the buttplug brought tears to my eyes. I was in so much pain I had to stand up on the pedals to get out of the saddle; I sprinted the rest of the way to Fulham Broadway, where fortunately I got a moment's respite at a set of red traffic lights.

I've only recently increased the height of the saddle and as I rode on down Wandsworth Bridge Road I realised that I had not accounted for the wearing of a buttplug. So as each leg did a downward stroke, so the plug moved from side to side across the saddle really torturing my arsehole.

I was glad to get to Wandsworth Bridge so I could get out of the saddle and sprint to the top. By now I was sweating profusely, not only because of the pain but the heat, being such a hot balmy night. As I got to the crest of the bridge I made one final push to the summit and then I felt the buttplug slipping out. I tried to clench my sphincter muscles, but to no avail. The skinsuit stopped it sliding out completely, but boy did I give myself a fuck as I sank back down on the saddle to coast down the other side of the bridge!

By now I had got a raging hard on, and as I sprinted up the Trinity Road slip road onto the South Circular, I could feel the buttplug slipping out again. The more I tried to stop it the more aroused I became. Once I'd joined the South Circular I sprinted for a while before gingerly lowering my arse back onto the saddle. The buttplug must have been almost completely out as I felt the two large knobs open my arsehole up one by one as I came back in to contact with the saddle.

The buttplug sliding back inside my already mega-sore arse got me even more excited. I looked down at my crotch to see my pulsating cock leaving pre-cum over the front of my light silver skinsuit. Fortunately it wasn't very noticeable as it was just where the black zip ends, but I was worried that if I came, it would be really embarrassing when I got indoors. So I sprinted the rest of the way home, my aching leg muscles helping me to take my mind off what was happening in my groin.

Before I went to sleep I rewarded myself with an insertion of the nine-inch triple knob buttplug, which although I had it in my backpack at your place, I'm glad I didn't have to ride home with it in. As my sphincter muscles encompassed the third ring I shot my load!

I shaved four minutes off my normal journey time, so thank you for a good workout! My leg muscles were a bit sore today, but after massaging them with Maximum Deepheat they're fully recovered. I also applied it to my cock, balls and arsehole as a reminder of such a good training session!

P.S. (Friday) I was out and about on the bike again yesterday morning after applying the deepheat, wearing the same skinsuit as on Wednesday. When I got home it was well soaked again from sweat and was really ponging. So I took it off and left it over one of the kitchen chairs, went upstairs to plug myself with the two knob buttplug, secured it with a leather thong, and put on my well-used leatherhosen. Having had lunch, I then sat down to write your "thank-you", attaching a pair of nipple clips as you'd already made my nips so delightfully sore for the ride home the previous night.

Just as I sent the e-mail off to you a tremendous thunderstorm was starting. When I walked back into the kitchen, the tit clamps swinging painfully with each stride, I saw my housemate's note reminding me to buy some food for Thursday night's dinner. I cursed that I'd forgotten to do this whilst out in the morning. Then I caught a sniff of my skinsuit, which was now dry but almost rigid with the sweat of endeavour. What better way to wash it than wear it in a thunder storm, I thought!

Well horny and still butted, I squeezed into the stinking skinsuit and rode off to the big supermarket at Nine Elms. Although I'd taken off the titclips, the lycra rubbing against the exposed and abused tits was magic as the skinsuit got absolutely soaked with rain. When I got home drenched there was a lovely skid mark through the crotch and up the arse of the skinsuit where the dirt from the road had sprayed up from the rear wheel! However this morning it's still smelling enough to get my pulse racing and I've put it back on because the skid mark looks so dam sexy! Post Office here I come!

Update from Lance, March 2005

I had an interesting ride home from your place. Came across this cute blond cyclist at a set of red traffic lights in Fulham Broadway. I followed him down to Kings Road and then overtook him. He then followed me along Wandsworth Bridge Road. We both stopped for the red lights before the bridge itself.

"Good Evening" I said. "Hi!" he replied. "Do you come this way often?" he asked. "Only occasionally, why?" I said. The lights changed and we both rode off alongside each other, up on the pedals out of the saddle as we climbed the bridge.

"Oh, only because I found this article on the internet written by a masochistic cyclist who describes a training ride along this route" he replied. "Sounded fucking painful!" he added, obviously hoping he'd get me to enquire further. "What was his training method?" I asked. "Well, basically to strengthen his leg muscles he shoved something up his arse to make it really uncomfortable to sit on the saddle."

By this stage we had crossed the crest of the bridge and were coasting down the other side. "Wow!" I replied, "Have you tried it?". "No" he replied, "but I'm thinking about it".

At this point we were on the roundabout and it was clear he was turning right for Wandsworth, whilst I was going straight on along Trinity Road. "Try it!" I shouted as we parted, "you might actually enjoy it!"

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