Callie asks: What is it like for you?

Celia says: It’s like I’m riding a bicycle, and the road is so smooth, and I’m going faster and faster, and I don’t know where I’m going and I don’t know where I’m coming from. The pedals practically pedal themselves, and my hair is streaming behind and my shirt is streaming behind and then my shirt is gone and so is my skirt and the wind is so strong on my nipples, piercing them, blowing them like whistles, and the seat is so hard between my legs, pressing me there, pushing into me, hollowing me out, filling my ache, and I need my clit to touch the seat or at least to catch the whistling wind, but like a good girl I’m wearing my panties, and no matter how I press myself forward, the panties stay on, and my clit won’t touch the wind, won’t touch the hard whistling whoosh of the wind, so I pedal faster, faster and faster, too fast, and I’m off the road, into the air, and my panties fly away like white birds, and my clit touches just right, and when I look back, trying to catch the ground with my eyes, that’s when it happens.

Wham! The wall obliterates me, but in an impossibly good way, like my cunt has swallowed the world and the world has exploded inside me, and now I’m everywhere and all at once. Only it’s not just one wham, but another and another, wham, wham, wham. And then ... and then ... and then there is no then. No nothing. Nothing but the purest god fucking goodness.

Is it a girl’s bike?

Um, yeah, it’s a girl’s bike.