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“I’ve gotta say, Reno,” Tifa trails off, standing in the middle of their garage with crossed arms and raised brows, “when you said you bought a new bike I didn’t expect—hmm, on second thought maybe it makes sense that this is how your mid-life crisis is manifesting.”
“What mid-life crisis, babe, I’m barely into my forties! If anything, this is a mid-life celebration!” Reno grins, still pearly white despite years of a combination coffee-and-cigarette addiction—and also in stark contrast to his usual, unbearable and unbearably attractive shit-eating grin. He motions for her to come closer, curves her fingers around the handlebar, and purrs. “C’mon, look me in the eye and tell me it’s lame.”
“Reno.” She looks him dead in the eyes, unblinking. “It’s lame.”
He steals a quick kiss. “You don’t mean it.”
“How could you possibly think a tandem bicycle is cool? You really wanna ride all around town on this?”
He nods emphatically.
“In front of all the people we know?”
He nods ecstatically, the corners of his mouth inching up into his cheeks, crinkling the skin of his tattoos, and Tifa knows it’s a battle she can’t win because it’s a battle she doesn’t even want to fight. Reno’s just too damn cute when he’s happy, and when he’s happy it’s infectious.
“All right, all right, you win.” Her lips are already twitching into a giant, goofy smile. “Let’s go! I just gotta change into some shorts—”
“Wait—” He reaches for her wrist as she’s heading for the garage door, spins her straight into his arms with a light oof, pressing her chest into his and her hand into—oh.
But not oh, more like—oh? It’s too smooth. With ill-defined ridges. No pulsing veins. She glances down the crack of space between their bodies and immediately sees flaming neon red. “Reno?”
“Yup?”
“Did you—”
“Yup.”
“But why?”
“Do you really need me to answer why I would commission a dildo in the exact replica of my cock?”
Tifa considers. “Okay, yeah, fair enough, it’s because you could.” He nods. “But could you elaborate a little more on why you decided you could and so, um, did?”
“Can’t demonstrate if you keep touching the goods.”
“Mm?”
He stares pointedly down the crack of space between their bodies to where Tifa’s hand has naturally started stroking said dildo just the way he likes it. She clears her throat and releases it, feels her ears burn as he cackles. “Almost as good as the real thing, huh?” Reno lifts the dildo into the air, showing it off like a model at a fashion show, before circling around Tifa toward the back of the bike. She follows his movements with her eyes and only then notices the hole in the center of the second seat of the tandem bicycle. She blinks at it, at him, before her confusion quickly melts into mortification as he screws the dildo in place.
“Reno—”
He nods ecstatically.
“You really,” she squeaks, “wanna ride all around town on this?”
He nods emphatically.
“In front of all the people we know?” Her whisper sends his grin so far past shit-eating it’s practically shit-inhaling. She throbs but refuses to admit it.
“No.”
“No?”
“You’re crazy.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“I’m almost thirty!”
Reno shrugs lazily. “So?”
“So, we’re older now and need to be more—more responsible. Respectable.”
“You mean boring?” He shakes his head, glancing forlornly down at the bike, flicking a neon red tip. It trembles under his touch, and so do her thighs. “You’ve really changed, huh?”
“Yes, I have,” she says through clenched teeth, willing it to be true, because she refuses to be baited into getting dildofucked on a tandem bikeride through the town they’ve known and loved and lived in for the last seven years. Even if it sounds really, really—
“Okay.”
“And—huh?” Tifa blinks as Reno shrugs again.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
Tifa’s eyes narrow suspiciously. He never lets things go this easily. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch, babe.” He slowly unscrews the dildo from the back seat. “I get it. You probably couldn’t make it past two miles.”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, you said it yourself—you’re thirty. Weakened sex endurance. Happens to the best of us—”
“Weakened sex endurance?” Tifa scoffs, rolling her eyes. Is that the best he’s got? “Says the man who can’t even get it up twice in a row anymore?!”
“Well, yeah, it’s a sharp decline for men after their twenties. But women? Only get stronger with time. Well, usually…” He sends her a lingering glance, and she knows he’s just talking shit. She knows he’s trying to rile her up and he knows it’s working because Reno playing the asshole is always sexy. But Reno playing the asshole to give her the excuse she needs to do what she actually wants—even and especially when all she wants is to be an utter kinky degenerate with him—is even sexier. She squeezes her legs together at the same time she squeezes her hand over his, firmly screwing the dildo back into place.
He grins like a damn menace. “Go put on one of your old miniskirts.”
“They might be a little tight…”
“Good.”
And that’s how Tifa finds herself riding through town on a tandem bicycle. Riding. Indeed. Fully sinking onto a very, very good replica of her husband’s cock, dressed in his favorite loose hoodie and one of her old miniskirts that is in fact a little too tight and thus sits rather higher on her waist than she would like, especially when she’s just a single bump, jostle, or light breeze away from an upskirt peek of molten red wedged deep inside her pussy.
“I don’t feel you pedaling, Tifa,” Reno sing-songs in front of her, fresh as a spring daisy, even though he’s been doing all the work for most of the ride. She very quickly realized that the pedalling motion perfectly mimicked the sensation of a good hard thrust and that the angle would hit her g-spot. Every. Fucking. Time. So she’s been coasting with her fleet against the body of the bike, trying to keep from sinking too deep into pleasure even as every jolt of the bike shakes her, literally, to the core. The bike skids sharply and her feet slip, which pushes her into the dildo so deep that her soaked lips actually touch the leather lining of the seat. It’s definitely going to stain, Tifa thinks woozily, trying to regain her footing but taking her time with it.
“You know that’s impossible,” Tifa hisses, hands gripping the handle bar, sweat dotting her brow and cooling instantly in the spring breeze. “If I pedal, it’ll g-go in more.”
“That’s the point.”
“The point is too deep, Renooo.” His name becomes a breathy, staccato moan as the bike trembles along a cobblestone path. “You chose this route on purpose!”
“Endurance training, remember?” His watch beeps. “Oh, and that’s two whole miles without orgasming. Or flashing anyone! Good job, babe.”
“So can we stop now?”
“You wanna stop?”
“You know what I mean!” Uncharacteristic silence. Tifa takes a deep breath, leans closer to his back, and whispers, “I wanna come.”
Because she’s close, so close—and then the trembling stops as the road smooths out beneath them. “You really wanna come right on Main Street?” Reno cackles as her eyes snap up. “Hey, Mrs. Ovelia!”
Tifa turns her head and waves, though she has to quickly clamp the same hand over her skirt as Reno “accidentally” bumps them against the sidewalk. She bites on her bottom lip and focuses all her attention and energy into greeting her neighbors and friends as they pass by, because she doesn’t need to come yet, she doesn’t need to come yet, she doesn’t—
She doesn’t. Sighs with relief and a smile because her mantra has worked. She doesn’t need to come. She—
“Nice wheels, Lockharts!” Charlie from the diner calls as they pass.
“I know! Isn’t it neat?!” Reno punctuates his reply with a ring of the bike bell and. Oh. Oh no. Tifa twitches.
Reno rings the bell again and again, with every passing neighbor he greets and yup, that absolute little bitch rigged this bike so that the dildo of her husband’s cock vibrates with increasing frequency after every ring. She might actually be impressed if she wasn’t surrounded by familiar faces and so fucking horny. Reno bumps into the sidewalk again and that delicious impact nearly explodes her. She stifles another moan but realizes that the end of the street, so Tifa grips her handlebars and pumps her legs, taking every excruciating and glorious thrust as she pedals faster, faster, faster—out of the woods, or rather straight into the ones surrounding town.
His watch beeps. “Three miles, babe,” she huffs victoriously as the world becomes a blur of green and her mind loses focus, frays at the edges as her peak climbs, as she continues to ride it higher and higher and—
“What, you want a reward or something?”
“Mmmmmm,” Tifa murmurs, though she’s pretty sure she’s getting it now. Close, so close, so—
“Kay.” He flicks something under the bell that sparks. Literally. Straight into the walls of her pussy, sharp and tingling, sensation overload deeper, harder, another sizzle that sends her writhing, bucking, unable to contain her breathy moans as Reno steers them behind the cover of a large tree trunk. He jumps off and sets the bike brake before catching her mouth with his, swallowing her climax as she comes undone. She slumps boneless against him when she finishes, but the shocks don’t stop, and Reno is keeping her firmly in place, back itching against the tree trunk as one hand lifts the bottom of his hoodie to stuff into her open mouth and the other makes short work of her bra clasp. The wind is cool against her bare tits only for a moment because then Reno’s all over them, sucking and squeezing and sending her straight over the edge all over again. She comes harder the second time, and it’s glorious, it’s too much, no, no, she can’t come again but Reno won’t let her go, won’t stop, whispers hot in her ear, “Double or nothing?”
But she’s already come twice, means to tell him so and tell him off even as her thigh clamp tightly together, even as Reno frees his cock and rolls a condom onto it. He maneuvers behind her, lifts her skirt so the cool air kisses her ass cheeks, and presses it into her—ohhhhh. She lifts her ass to give him a better angle and though it’s slower and a touch painful with just condom lube, soon enough he’s deep inside and matching a lazy rhythm to the vibrating pulse, somehow pulling out and pushing in time with a shock here and a jolt there and then he’s panting hard, pearly whites biting into her shoulder as he thrusts behind her, fills her so completely that she careens into her third orgasm with a noiseless exhale.
They clean up with the last of the wet wipes in Reno’s pocket, but there's not enough wet wipes in the world to get her back onto that bike right now. Or maybe ever.
“I can carry you on my front,” he offers with a cheeky wink.
“Reno.”
“All right, we'll call a cab.” He takes out his phone and pauses. “Say, you think they still have those shaded partitions between the driver and the backseat?”
“I dunno, why do you ask?” Reno lowers his gaze and Tifa follows it down his neck and his chest and to his—oh. Interesting.
Maybe they’re only as young as they feel.