Chapter 8: The New Rules

A delivery truck rumbled into the driveway just after nine the next morning, engine growling low while Dad’s car was already miles away at the office. Lauren met me in the garage wearing only the crotchless black leggings, the open slit already hinting at her readiness. Her nipples pressed visibly against the thin sports bra, ponytail swaying as she signed for the box. The driver never glanced twice at the half-open garage door, but the possibility of a neighbor strolling past sent a fresh spike of heat through my veins.

We dragged the heavy carton inside together. She sliced the tape with a box cutter, revealing the sleek black frame of a second Peloton—identical to the original but now unmistakably ours. “New rules start today,” she announced, voice low and commanding as she helped lift it onto the concrete. “You have your own bike. We ride together. No limits anymore.”

She snapped the suction-cup dildos onto both saddles with quick, practiced twists, the realistic veins catching the overhead light. The garage door stayed halfway up, letting in a breeze that carried distant lawnmower sounds and the faint risk of eyes. “Strip,” she ordered. Clothes hit the floor in seconds—my shorts, her bra and leggings—until we stood bare under the open sky, skin prickling with exposure.

I mounted the new bike first. The thick toy pressed cool and firm against my entrance as I lowered myself, the stretch immediate and insistent. Lauren swung onto hers beside me, sinking down with a soft exhale that made her breasts rise. Side by side, the two machines hummed to life in stereo, a low mechanical thrum that vibrated straight through the toys and into our cores. We began pedaling in sync, knees rising and falling together, the dual rhythm syncing our breaths.

She reached across the narrow gap, fingers wrapping my shaft while we kept the pace steady. Her grip was slick with early arousal, stroking in time with each revolution. Sweat broke fast across her collarbone, thin trails of moisture tracing the curve of her ribs. “Lick them,” she breathed, leaning toward me without breaking stride. My tongue dragged across the warm swell of her breast, catching the fresh tang of exertion as her nipple tightened under my lips. The bikes rocked gently, toys shifting inside us with every push.