A Cycling Odyssey Ch. 04


This is the fourth chapter about a couple’s adventures while vacationing in Denmark. The locations exist but the characters are fictional. Each chapter stands on its own though is best read in the order written. In this chapter, Paul meets two women who invite him to their summer home for an evening. It takes a while for the action to heat up. But bear with me as I sow seeds to thicken the plot for this chapter and those that will follow.

If you are a man reading this, please pass this story on to your wife, or partner, for her reading pleasure as well. I appreciate all constructive feedback – especially from women who are my target audience.


I walked down the dark hallway holding my bike bags in front of me trying to hide my excitement. They bumped lightly against my shaft keeping me stiff. I hesitated at the entrance to the dining room. There was a young woman placing a variety of cheeses and salami out on a long table in the centre of the room. As soon as she turned her back, I entered. I sat my bags on the floor beside a table and walked up to the food making sure my body was turned away from her.

She looked in my direction. “Good morning” she said.

“Good morning” I replied turning only my head to greet her.

I reached for a yogurt and poured myself some juice – then quickly sat down. My erection wouldn’t go away. My tight bike shorts weren’t helping things. As soon as she left the room, I darted for the coffee. My cup was half full when she returned to the room with more food to lay out. I quickly closed the spigot and returned to my table.

I had almost finished my breakfast, when she left the dining room. Seizing the moment, I picked up my bike bags and walked quickly to the front entrance grabbing a banana on the way. It made me think of the line “Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”. I could imagine how the guy must have felt when asked.

As soon as I opened the front door, I heard the muffled sound of birds. There was a thick fog. I placed my bags on the carrier and fumbled with unlocking my bike. With everything in its place, I walked my bike away from the rack and hopped on. At least it’s not raining, I thought.

The bike path soon led into a forest. The sun had risen high enough now that it was burning off the morning fog except under the forest canopy where it continued to swirl in the light. I approached a fork in the path and glided to a stop to check my map. Some movement to my right, off the path, caught my attention. I turned my head to find a woman in an overcoat crouched down with her back to me. Her coat appeared open at the front as it was draped over her thighs. She was wearing rubber boots. Another woman, facing her, was taking pictures. That’s odd, I thought.

I dismounted and rested the cross bar against my mid section so I could unfold my map with both hands. My shaft slowly thickened in response to the light pressure of the bar. Images of the night before began flashing in my mind. I was struggling to concentrate on the map, when a cheery, female voice scared the bejeebers out of me.

“Good morning!”

It was the woman in the overcoat. She stopped suddenly seeing that she had startled me.

“Sorry! Did I scare you?” she asked suppressing a chuckle.

She was Dana’s height, younger – perhaps in her early 40s. She had beautiful long, straight black hair pulled back in a ponytail. The top two buttons on her overcoat remained unfastened. I couldn’t help but notice her legs were bare between the top of her boots and the bottom of her coat. Her natural complexion radiated warmth.

“Oh!…Hello! Yes. You did actually” I said looking a bit confused. Seeing the impish look on her face, I relaxed and smiled.

“We were just taking some pictures amongst the mushrooms” she said, turning and pointing back to where they had been.

“Oh. I see” I said wondering where this conversation was going.

An older woman with a camera slung over her shoulder came up behind her. She had a paper bag in her hand. She appeared to be in her 60s but was just as tall and fit as the younger woman. She was dressed casually with an artistic flair. Her chin length grey hair was styled to give her a smoky look. There was a confident, sexy vibe about her. She was quite attractive. I sensed she knew it.

“They’re called Stinksvampe…a type of mushroom” the older woman said as she opened the bag to show me.

I stared down into the bag. The foulest odour overcame me. I quickly raised my head and grimaced.

“They smell, terribly. Don’t they?” she commented with a wry smile.

I was turning my head away from the opening, when I wondered whether I had seen them right. I quickly looked back down in the bag. Yes, they were the shape and size of an erect penis! I must have had an incredibly surprised look on my face. They both broke out laughing.

“Yes! They do look like a penis. We thought it would be funny to get a picture of Abbie in a field of these. izmit escort But we couldn’t stand the smell. So, we gave up”.

I smiled nervously not knowing what to say. The woman closed the bag.

“Where are you headed?” the younger woman asked.


As I answered, the cross bar slid down the length of my shaft. Reaching for the cross bar to stop my bike’s fall, the younger woman’s fingers accidentally grabbed the bulge in my pants. She quickly released. I managed to catch the cross bar in my hands. As I righted the bike, the younger woman’s wide eyes remained fix on the long tube inside my bike pants. A dark patch had formed at its tip. I stepped behind one of the bike bags to hide my predicament.

She quickly looked over to the other woman. I saw her eyes gesture for the other woman to look down. She turned back to face me.

“In that case, you should take the path to the left” she said inhaling deeply trying not to laugh.

The other woman came up close to me on my side of the bike.

“What route are you taking?” she asked.

I bent over to pick up the map which had fallen to the ground. I felt her eyes on me. I knew I wasn’t able to hide my erection from this angle. To hell with it, I said to myself. I could see her eyes flit occasionally downwards as I showed her my route.

“That’s a lovely ride – a bit hilly at times. You’ll be biking by a lovely, old inn on the way – Svinkloev. We’re having lunch there at around noon. You could join us”.

She looked over at her friend who, at that moment, was straining her neck for another look at my mid section. She quickly raised her head toward us.

“Yes, that’s a great idea. Please join us for lunch”.

“You’ll be cycling right by. It’s…right about here”. She pointed to a spot on the map. “Just look for the sign. It’ll be on your right”.

“Around noon?” I asked.

They nodded.

“OK, I’ll keep an eye open for the place”.

They said goodbye and turned to walk away. I watched them take the fork in the path to the left which led to a small parking lot about 200 meters away. The older woman threw the bag of mushrooms into a garbage can by the gate. They got into their car – a vintage, silver convertible Mercedes Benz – and drove off.

I walked my bike to a bench near the parking lot and sat. I reached for my phone and clicked on Dana’s number. She picked up on the second ring.

“Hi! I’ve been waiting for your call! I don’t have much time. How’s it going?”

“Fine” I answered. It was so nice to hear her voice. She sounded happy.

“How’s school going?” I asked.

“Well, we’re only getting into the classes now. The first day was introductions. We all went for a long hike in a forest nearby…had a traditional Danish luncheon with beer and snaps. We even sang songs! It was a fun way to get to know everyone who’s here”.

“How are the classes?”

“The instructors are a lot of fun. I’ve met some interesting people too. I’m really enjoying the Tango classes and…ah…art lessons. What about you? Any more…unexpected…highlights?” Dana asked with a bit of a chuckle.

“Well, actually…you wouldn’t believe the night I had last night. I ended up sharing a room with three young women”.

“How’d that happen?”

“Long story. It was like a scene out of the Odyssey with the sirens. Danish women seem to be rather relaxed when it comes to being nude…just walking around the room in their panties”.

Dana broke out laughing. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they were just having some fun,…enjoying your reaction Paul. Look, I’ve got to get going to my class”.

“Dana, there’s more”.

“Sorry Paul. I’ve got to go. I’ll try to give you a call tonight”.

“OK. Take care. See you”.

“See you!”

The call ended abruptly. I sat there looking at the phone wishing we’d been able to talk longer. I hadn’t been able to tell her about what had happened the last couple of days. Well, at least I had tried. She must be enjoying herself. Maybe it’s better that I tell her face-to-face anyway.

I stood up and tucked my cell phone into its mount on the bike. Gripping the handlebars, I stepped onto the pedal, kicked off and lifted my leg over the seat. I lowered myself down and quickly settled into my regular 18 km/hour pace.

After a couple of hours, I exited the forest on to a gravel road that wound through the moors where summer houses were huddled behind high dunes. Every so often, I could see out to the North Sea. Abandoned German bunkers from World War II littered the landscape. I approached a paved road and turned right. The road became hilly with a lot of twists and turns. An hour later, I had almost had enough. Then I saw a silver Mercedes parked in front of a two-story white, wood frame building set back from the road. I stopped pedaling and coasted. Were they serious about me joining them for lunch? They were an intriguing pair.

The small hotel was built on a rise of land overlooking the North Sea. There was a dark, ominous sky yahya kaptan escort in the distance. The Danish flag was flapping wildly in the wind. I leaned my bike against the wall and locked it. I decided to leave my bags on the bike. I walked up the steps and entered a small lobby paneled in wood painted in earthy tones of blue and green. To the left, a spiral staircase led to the second floor. A small café with windows looking out over the sea was directly to my right.

“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked looking up from behind the counter.

At the same time, a well-dressed couple passed me and entered the dining room. I was under dressed.

“I was supposed to meet a couple of women for lunch…but maybe…”.

Before I could finish, the woman’s face brightened up. “Oh, you must be the handsome …oh!”

She stopped mid sentence – flustered. Her face reddened. She shuffled some menus and took a deep breath as she gathered herself. She continued. “…gentleman on the bike! I was told you might come by. Just one moment”.

She walked into the dining room to the right of the staircase. She was gone for less than a minute. She re-appeared with a bright smile and gestured for me to follow her. She seemed so giddy – as though she were in on something. She led me into a bright, yellow room with about ten round tables. Large floral paintings hung on the walls. They reminded me of Georgia O’Keefe. Directly ahead of me, a group of five women were standing, talking. All eyes fell on me.

The younger woman I had met in the forest, left the group to greet me. She had a stunning hourglass figure accentuated by tight fitting capris with a bright floral pattern. Through a thin, white cotton blouse, I could clearly see her breasts resting in a white lace, balconette bra. We shook hands.

“Renee was right. It took you just about three hours”.

I looked about the room. “I’m afraid that I’m a bit under dressed. Maybe it would be better if I just got a bite to eat in the café”.

“Nonsense! We’ve been waiting for you!” she declared looking back at her friend who had just finished her conversation with the other women.

The older woman turned toward us. Tight white pants hugged her waist and flared out over her hips. She was wearing a pale-yellow blouse. As she came closer, I could see her round breasts nestled in a dark, solid yellow demi-bra.

“How’s our cyclist?” she asked reaching out to shake my hand.

The three women they had been speaking with, were now seated at their table. They had started talking quietly amongst themselves while their eyes remained on us.

“I’m Renee” the older woman said. “And this is Abbie”.

“I’m Paul”.

“Please join us” she said pointing to their table.

“Obviously, we expected you” she said gesturing at the setting for three. “Please sit down”.

Before I knew it, I had had three glasses of white wine and a lovely meal. We had talked about places we had visited, art and a bit about me. Renee was an artist from Copenhagen. She had a studio at a summer home nearby and was a fan of Georgia O’Keefe. She had painted the art hanging on the walls in the dining room – undeniably erotic images of nature like the works of O’Keefe.

We had just started talking about some erotic works of art Dana and I had seen in our travels when it suddenly got quite dark outside. There was a clash of thunder and the sound of high winds. Rain splashed against the windows.

“My dear! That came up suddenly” said Renee.

My mind started to think of the 30 kilometres remaining in my ride.

“You can’t ride in that” declared Abbie.

“I’ve got rain gear. I’ll be OK” I said, not sounding too eager though.

Abbie looked at Renee quickly and turned back to me.

“Our summer house is close by. You can bike to it and, see whether it blows over…decide whether you want to continue to Thisted. You’re welcome to spend the night with us”.

“Well, thanks for the offer but…”.

“End of discussion” she said as she caught the attention of the waitress and requested the bill.

I looked over at Renee who smiled and nodded. “You’re more than welcome. After all, we got you into this”.

“Well, that’s nice of you to offer. How will I find your place?”

“It’s easy. Turn right onto the main road and, after about one kilometer, right again. It’s the first gravel road on your right. We’re about four kilometres down that road on the right-hand side. Our summer home’s set back in the dunes. You can’t see it from the road”.

I was imagining biking through the rain trying to find their summer house. Rene saw my concerned look.

“Don’t worry” she said. “We’ll drive ahead and wait for you at each turn”.

Abbie brought the car up to the front door in a driving rain while I stood with Renee chatting just inside the front door. Renee ran down the stairs and hurried inside the car. She lowered the window slightly and waved as they drove away. I walked as close to the wall gebze escort of the hotel as I could, under the eaves, trying to keep out of the rain as I made my way to my bike. I was soaked by the time I had my rain gear on.

I mounted my bike and pedaled through the wet, loose pebbles in the parking lot to the main road. The head wind and rain made it hard to see. Soon, red flashing car lights appeared ahead. It was the Mercedes. They had stopped at the turn on to the gravel road and were waiting for me. As I approached, they drove down the gravel road. I soon lost sight of them but about 20 minutes later, I saw the red lights again. The car was idling. I coasted up along the driver’s side of the car. The window rolled down. Abbie was at the steering wheel. Renee was no longer in the car.

“Follow me”.

She rolled the window back up and drove slowly along a lane that twisted through the dunes. Suddenly, a one storey, black framed home with a low, flat roof appeared. It was tucked up against a dune. Abbie parked the car close to the door and ran into the house as I struggled to get my bags off my bike. I ran up to the door. It opened and I quickly stepped inside. The door closed behind me.

A warm, cozy setting greeted me. Candles flickered everywhere under low ceilings. Renee was standing in the kitchen to my right, busy starting a meal. A large, elliptical white table with chrome legs was to my left. Further in, I could see a large room with a black leather sofa, designer chairs and a waist high bookshelf lining two walls. Art hung everywhere. Jazz was playing quietly in the background.

I turned to speak to Renee and found her looking at my feet. Water was dripping down my suit onto the floor.

“Why don’t you show Paul to the washroom where he can get out of those wet clothes and into something more comfortable?” Renee suggested to Abbie.

I carefully took off my shoes and rain suit, grabbed my bags and followed Abbie down a long hallway. She opened a door on the left. A light automatically switched on revealing a spacious bathroom with a large, glass-enclosed shower stall.

“Why don’t you have a shower to warm yourself up?” she suggested.

“That would be great!”

“I can hang up your clothes to dry. We have a drying room just down the hallway”.

I put my bags down on the floor and took my toilet kit out. Abbie quickly grabbed both my bags and left. I undressed and got into the shower. My back was to the bathroom door when I heard it open. I turned my head and saw Abbie collecting my wet clothes.

I called out to her. “Could you bring back my bags. I’ve got dry clothes…”. The door closed before I could finish. She mustn’t have heard me.

Abbie reappeared a couple minutes later. This time when she entered, I was facing the door lathering my body. I quickly held my stomach in and froze. Looking directly at me, she lifted her left arm to show me a dressing gown. She placed it on the counter, turned again to face me and gave me a thumbs up before leaving the room.

I exhaled as soon as the door closed and continued showering. After rinsing off, I dried myself and put on the light blue cotton dressing gown left on the counter. I brushed my teeth, applied my deodorant, and combed my hair before making my way back to the kitchen where I found Renee busy making supper. Abbie was setting the table. The room was warm. The food smelled lovely.

Abbie had changed into a black, see-through lace blouse with collar and long sleeves. Underneath, she wore a plunging black bra with a shiny stainless-steel triangle hanging just above her cleavage. Tight, black capris wrapped her thin waist, wide hips and thighs. Her black, pointed high heels clicked on the natural, hardwood floor. Renee wore a white and greyish-blue horizontal striped blouse. It was unbuttoned just so that, every so often, her breasts could be seen, overflowing, in a white lace quarter cup bra. She wore white capris and white high heels – not quite as high as Abbie.

“Feeling a bit warmer?” asked Abbie.

“I’ll say! That’s exactly what I needed”.

“Would you like a glass of wine? White or red?”

“Red would be nice” I answered, then asked “Where’d you place my bike gear? I have a change of clothes…”.

“Oh, your clothes are in the wash” she said as she poured the wine.

I looked down at myself thinking I had nothing on underneath my housecoat. “Oh! I was…”

“You’re fine as you are Paul. Just relax with a glass of wine” she said handing me a glass.

“Maybe you could show Paul around the house” Renee suggested looking over at Abbie.

“Good idea!”

Abbie poured herself a glass and put the bottle down on the counter. She took my hand and led me into a living room filled with well-known designer furniture. Small erotic sculptures and figurines were positioned on top of low bookshelves that stretched around the room.

“You have quite a collection of erotic figures” I commented as my eyes continued to scan the collection.

“Yes, Renee has an interest in erotic art. I’m sure you could have guessed that from our talk over lunch”.

“Come! Let me show you the rest of the house”.

As we walked down the hallway, she opened a door across from the bathroom where I had showered.

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