The Story of the Scar

[sirhugs]

It hasta involve sex, but not cutting...
falling out of a tree perhaps?

 

[Lube_it_up]

Sex in the kitchen and touching the stove on?

 

[Polranny]

That's one hell of a carpet burn

 

[Rob_Royale]

Back when I was young and in shape I did a lot of bicycling tours all over the Tampa Bay area. Some were in the city, others out in the surrounding countryside, it was always a good time. There was a time when I had a pedal loosen and I stopped by a home and got a fellow to loan me a wrench and some Locktite to get it fixed. Back on the road, no problems. I was smart enough to write down the address and I sent him a thank you note.

In this fictional case though, maybe I hit a pothole or something and wiped out. I limped my damaged ass down the road to a lone house. I'm standing at the door, bleeding from some serious road rash with my battered bike. The lovely mature homeowner takes me in and gets me patched up. She's wearing a swimsuit and it's not long before my cycling shorts are making my interest obvious. She smiled and mentioned that her husband is a long-haul trucker, and won't be home for several days, but she can show me where the tools are so I can fix my bike to get back in the tour.

I ended up calling a taxi, several hours later. I've got some great memories and a scar on my knee that makes me smile whenever I look at it.

 

[Rob_Royale]

Cycling in Florida? Oh boy...
I am from the Netherlands, I have opinions on this.

Let's continue your story:
The mature homeowner is an immigrant from the Netherlands. She brings you to the back of the house near the swimming pool where she was sunbathing. She opens the shed and points you to her old Dutch bicycle. Your bike is pretty much done for, so she offers you her old bike for a small price. It's a bit old, and it hasn't been used for years. Together you move lots of boxes out of the way to get to the back of the shed where that old bike is hanging from the wall. When you move the last box you hit your knee on a sharp edge and begin bleeding again. She insists that you sit down and have a drink while she finds the first aid kit to get some bandaids.

She gets down on her knees to bandage you up, but also gets a bit of a fuzzy feeling herself. The combination of your sweaty muscular legs and the blood made her a bit horny, but also lightheaded. She tells you she has to sit down for a moment so she doesn't faint. You help her sit down on the edge of the swimming pool.

"Would it help if we wash off the blood with the water from the swimming pool?" you ask.

"With an open wound you shouldn't get in the pool actually..."

"No, I meant you. You've gotten blood on young fingers and you wiped it on your side. It has run down onto your bikini bottoms."

"Oh no! Well, I think we can solve multiple problems here at once. If you are willing to help me with something we can get rid of my lightheadedness. I can take off there bikini bottoms, and if you do a good job, you can have my old bike for free."

Love it!

 

[M_K_Babalon]

Back when I was young and in shape I did a lot of bicycling tours all over the Tampa Bay area. Some were in the city, others out in the surrounding countryside, it was always a good time. There was a time when I had a pedal loosen and I stopped by a home and got a fellow to loan me a wrench and some Locktite to get it fixed. Back on the road, no problems. I was smart enough to write down the address and I sent him a thank you note.

In this fictional case though, maybe I hit a pothole or something and wiped out. I limped my damaged ass down the road to a lone house. I'm standing at the door, bleeding from some serious road rash with my battered bike. The lovely mature homeowner takes me and gets me patched up. She's wearing a swimsuit and it's not long before my cycling shorts are making my interest obvious. She smiled and mentioned that her husband is a long-haul trucker, and won't be home for several days, but she can show me where the tools are so I can fix my bike to get back in the tour.

I ended up calling a taxi, several hours later. I've got some great memories and a scar on my knee that makes me smile whenever I look at it.

I ride with a cycling group and once we were riding a raised path, somebody stopped in front of somebody for some reason and caused them to swerve down the hill. Somehow it jarred their nds crankarm loose. On the way back it came off and luckily for him, it was a fixie with foot retention, so he managed to ride it with one pedal. The path used to be for trains and it snakes through Jeffersonville, Clarksville and New Albany Indiana.

 

[sirhugs]

I ride with a cycling group and once we were riding a raised path, somebody stopped in front of somebody for some reason and caused them to swerve down the hill. Somehow it jarred their nds crankarm loose. On the way back it came off and luckily for him, it was a fixie with foot retention, so he managed to ride it with one pedal. The path used to be for trains and it snakes through Jeffersonville, Clarksville and New Albany Indiana.

because there was a Last Train to Clarksville.