Forums

Antonia took a deep breath and tried to get her leg over again. Her green eyes were watering with effort and she had to blink her long eyelashes repeatedly. This bike was impossible to ride!
She knew that learning new things took a while, but this was ridiculous. She rearranged her short, floral dress and tried to straddle the electric-blue bicycle again.
Perhaps she should have dressed more appropriately for cycling—but it was a hot day and her curvy body needed to breathe. The thin straps of her dress kept falling down, exposing her golden-tanned skin; it had been a perfect summer.
The sun was hot on her forehead and she wiped at the light sheen of sweat that was forming. Her icy-blonde hair was sticking to her face and she blew at it. At least nobody was around to watch her embarrassment. The quiet path near the sun-soaked meadow was deserted and the only thing she could hear was the soft breeze, ruffling through the leaves.
Antonia was determined to finally crack the riding thing once and for all. She took a last pull of water from her sparkly bottle and put it back down, empty. A drop of liquid escaped her lips and dripped onto her glowing cleavage, rolling gently down the middle of her large breasts. It was deliciously cooling; a pleasant distraction from the work at hand.
Maybe she wasn’t built for vertical locomotion? Her body had a firm hourglass shape—curves upon curves. She wasn’t one to hold back on her indulgences, so was lucky to still have perfect proportions with a nipped-in waist.
There was even a picnic snack of cherry-scones and luxury cream awaiting her as a celebration if she managed to pull this riding thing off. Since childhood, she’d been conscious that bicycling was a rite of passage she had yet to master. But now that Antonia was at university, and everyone around her was always nipping around town on their bikes, it was almost too late to admit to not knowing how.
Just last month, her flat-mate had gone away for a term abroad to Barcelona, leaving her lovely bicycle in Antonia’s manicured hands to look after. It had seemed like a sign.
Antonia had stared at the pretty blue bike for a few weeks before taking the plunge and wheeling it out to beyond the campus limits. She should perhaps have asked someone for help, but who? She had a reputation for being a bit of a girly-girl and she didn’t want to deal with the ribbing that would have gone along with the inevitable mansplaining.