In a sense it was my fault. I wasn't there for him, so on Sunday AD finally got to explore how embracing the psychological and physiological differences between the fundamentals of the male X and Y chromosomes can enhance your life, opening up new physical experiences.
AD and I go back a good few years now. We've been out on long lonely rides together and, as bonds grow stronger, the guards sometimes slip and the chats hint at things often best left unsaid or even explored in polite company. I guess it's like being in prison; the longer you spend in the company of certain individuals, the more rational their life style preferences and physical encounters become, and they take on an attraction of their own. Indeed AD has often shown a tenacious and bizarre need to stop in lonely lay by's, certain car parks at dusk or even that known hot spot, Box Hill, where he literally admires the tackle on view. Now my work, and indeed leisure activities, often bring me into contact with the activity and people he wants to explore, and, well, life is a broad Church so I have no real problems. Seem a nice enough bunch. He can do what he wants to do in life, fair play. However, he is a happily married man, with a lovely wife and children that are less obnoxious than mine, so I have from time to time urged him to consider the ramifications [not a good word to use in this context] of exploring the attraction. It's one thing reading about something, or watching it on t.v. late at night in the privacy of your own home, but sometimes actually engaging in it can bring pain to loved ones. Indeed I have heard that it can also bring real physical pain when doing it for the first time, or for prolonged periods. Lots of lubricating cream is needed. Apparently.
I'm not sure that this is the right public forum to discuss this now. OK primarily I guess my readers are consenting adults, but there are also impressionable young people reading this who may be tempted to follow his path. I don't know. Should I provide full and frank details of what AD got up to when I wasn't there to stop him experimenting? Luckily the only consenting adult that AD met when engaging for the first time only lent him some spare latex out of pity and didn't hang around to help with or fondle his tube. AD was left to fondle his tube in the secluded privacy of the road side bushes.
Whatever. My Dear Readers can handle this I am more than sure.
Yes, on Sunday AD went out on a road bike and he wore lycra. He is now a MAMIL.
I know, I know and I am sorry to bring this subject up in a family mountain biking blog, but sometimes things are best tackled head on. He sent me a few texts suggesting he was going to give it a go, and I urged caution. You don't want to leap into something as onerous as this without due regard to the consequences and my caution proved well founded. AD suffered, and suffered badly. Within two miles of home he had had three punctures on his road bike, even in a spare inner tube lent to him by another roadie. Not only did he have to suffer the ignominy of calling his wife out as the fifth emergency service, from a location less than two miles from home, but he was shown up as a newbie to a more experience road cyclist, and also had to suffer a string of "told you so" texts from me. He now also has to suffer my cynical and exploitative writing about his road cycling experiences on-line.
You have been warned people.
AD and I go back a good few years now. We've been out on long lonely rides together and, as bonds grow stronger, the guards sometimes slip and the chats hint at things often best left unsaid or even explored in polite company. I guess it's like being in prison; the longer you spend in the company of certain individuals, the more rational their life style preferences and physical encounters become, and they take on an attraction of their own. Indeed AD has often shown a tenacious and bizarre need to stop in lonely lay by's, certain car parks at dusk or even that known hot spot, Box Hill, where he literally admires the tackle on view. Now my work, and indeed leisure activities, often bring me into contact with the activity and people he wants to explore, and, well, life is a broad Church so I have no real problems. Seem a nice enough bunch. He can do what he wants to do in life, fair play. However, he is a happily married man, with a lovely wife and children that are less obnoxious than mine, so I have from time to time urged him to consider the ramifications [not a good word to use in this context] of exploring the attraction. It's one thing reading about something, or watching it on t.v. late at night in the privacy of your own home, but sometimes actually engaging in it can bring pain to loved ones. Indeed I have heard that it can also bring real physical pain when doing it for the first time, or for prolonged periods. Lots of lubricating cream is needed. Apparently.
I'm not sure that this is the right public forum to discuss this now. OK primarily I guess my readers are consenting adults, but there are also impressionable young people reading this who may be tempted to follow his path. I don't know. Should I provide full and frank details of what AD got up to when I wasn't there to stop him experimenting? Luckily the only consenting adult that AD met when engaging for the first time only lent him some spare latex out of pity and didn't hang around to help with or fondle his tube. AD was left to fondle his tube in the secluded privacy of the road side bushes.
Whatever. My Dear Readers can handle this I am more than sure.
Yes, on Sunday AD went out on a road bike and he wore lycra. He is now a MAMIL.
I know, I know and I am sorry to bring this subject up in a family mountain biking blog, but sometimes things are best tackled head on. He sent me a few texts suggesting he was going to give it a go, and I urged caution. You don't want to leap into something as onerous as this without due regard to the consequences and my caution proved well founded. AD suffered, and suffered badly. Within two miles of home he had had three punctures on his road bike, even in a spare inner tube lent to him by another roadie. Not only did he have to suffer the ignominy of calling his wife out as the fifth emergency service, from a location less than two miles from home, but he was shown up as a newbie to a more experience road cyclist, and also had to suffer a string of "told you so" texts from me. He now also has to suffer my cynical and exploitative writing about his road cycling experiences on-line.
You have been warned people.
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