The Racer's Chronicles Book I: Junior Formulae
Chapter 1: Clothing Optional
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, mt/ft, Ma/ft, mt/Fa, Fa/Fa, Fa/ft, Teenagers, Consensual, Romantic, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Celebrity, Sports, Incest, Mother, Son, Daughter, First, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Petting, Sex Toys, Double Penetration, School, Nudism,
Desc: Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 1: Clothing Optional - The teenagers Mark and Jenny have never met in person, but they share a dream - driving a Formula One car one day. Life becomes interesting when Mark leaves sunny California for Europe and his guardian turns out to be Jenny's mother.
My name is Bond, Mark Bond.
Actually, my name would have been Mark Bondarenko, but my Great Grandfather, who had fled the Nazis from Ukraine and found a new home in California, had our family name shortened at the height of the McCarthy era. At a time when someone could be prosecuted as a Communist for looking at someone else cross-eyed, running around with a Slavic surname was not the best idea. That's how we ended up with a rather iconic name, way before Sean Connery started banging everyone who had a pair of breasts and didn't fight back too fiercely.
It was a good thing that World War II was 57 years in the past, because, while my ancestor had fled from the Germans, I was on the way to live with them. Having finished second in the World Karting Championship the year before, I had to decide what to do. It's a bit like deciding on College – stay home or go far away. The difference is, when you decide on College, you're usually eighteen or something, I was fourteen and had to decide whether to stay in the US of A or go to Europe.
In the end Europe won. My big dream was becoming a Formula One driver, and there is a reason why so few Americans had ever made it there in recent years. Two CART champions had successfully made it, Jacques Villeneuve and Juan Pablo Montoya, but both had gone through the junior formulae in Europe and CART was heading for the scrapheap after Tony George and his minions had thoroughly killed American openwheel racing by the split in 1996. The last attempt of someone, who had risen through the ranks in Americaland had been Michael Andretti in 1993 and that had ended in embarrassment.
Frankly, the decision had been a no-brainer. We had an offer from Team Eurospeedway Driver Academy to run in Formula-BMW alongside a young girl called Jenny Marx, who had just won the German Karting championship and was also graduating to 'proper cars' the next year. That in itself was enough reason to go there, because I also knew that she was drop-dead gorgeous. We'd been exchanging letters for over a year already, ever since my parents had become friends with her mother. That takes a bit of explaining.
My Grandfather had started an IT business at the time when computers were still weighing more than Mexico and filled entire building floors. My father later expanded it to Europe, mainly Her Majesty's Island and Germany. It's safe to say that we were stinking rich. Jenny's mother Regina was an English and arts teacher at a combined middle school and high school in Senftenberg, East Germany. My father's business had won the contract to install the entire IT infrastructure in that school and since mom often accompanied my dad on business trips they had met Regina and became friends through having the same 'problem' – their only child was at the height of puberty and a racing nut on top of it.
Theoretically I could have had it easy. If necessary, dad could have just bought a team for me and all would be well, but in hindsight I'm happy that he didn't. He didn't want me to become the next Esteban Tuero or Gaston Mazzacane, people who made their way through the ranks courtesy of their wallet instead of any talent worth mentioning. We had a simple deal. I was not allowed to accept any offer that depended on me paying for the seat. Once the deal was signed, dad would add some sponsorship to make sure I didn't end up running for a cash-strapped team that would save money by taking shortcuts with the material.
It had not been so easy for Jenny. Her parents were divorced and her father had buggered off to West Germany with a new mistress. Having seen a photo of Jenny and her mom, I could only conclude that the guy was either fucking Miss World, or he was a blithering idiot. Seriously, I couldn't even decide which of the two to have a massive crush on. From what mom had told me, Jenny's mother had her when she was fourteen, so she was exactly twice as old as Jenny and I – not even thirty. That guy must have been bat-shit crazy to leave a woman like that.
The only redeeming thing about the guy was, that he'd been foreman for a big construction business and had practically built the house on his own, back then before the fall of the wall, so there were no mortgages. Still, with only her mom's teacher salary to live off, Jenny's family wasn't very well off. Back when my parents met Jenny's mother for the fist time, Jenny's karting career was heading the same way as those of other promising girl talents – very far south. Senior level karting was expensive and with Swiss girl Cyndie Allemann tearing the males of the species a new one in the European Championship, there was no space for a second girl in a works contract.
Thank you, dad. He'd offered Jenny the same deal as me and with dad's logo on her kart and the accompanying money that came with it, her small team could expand to a proper operation, could buy top-notch material, and she was currently in the process of giving Mrs. Allemann a massive headache. The media had been buzzing about the two cuties who embarrassed the entire Y-chromosome brigade in the European Championship.
News about karting in Europe were almost impossible to come by in America and even on the Internet, but Jenny kept us well in the loop. Cyndie Allemann had won both races in Sarno-Napoli, Italy, Portimao, Portugal, and Zuera, Spain. Jenny had finished either second or third in all those races. In turn she won both races at Rye House, Great Britain. In Kristianstad, Sweden the two girls had won one race each with the opponent finishing second. The males of the species had exactly one race win – a non-championship invitational race at Oschersleben, Germany, won by a guy called Maximilian Götz.
Currently there was a summer break with the next race scheduled for the last September week in Brno, Czech Republic.
And thus I found myself at Burbank Airport on August 1st 2002, ready to fly to Germany. Although I was of course looking forward to racing in Europe and in proper cars on top of that, it was not easy to let go, especially not for mom and I. When I was ten I had developed a massive crush on my mom, which was not very difficult, considering that she was a very beautiful woman and unlike many other 'murricans, mom kept herself in shape. Of course with the social taboo and the little detail of mom being happily married to dad, it wasn't to be and we had a talk when I was eleven. It broke my heart, but with my racing career starting to take off, I eventually got over it, but the feelings for mom, the ones that went beyond those of a son, never really went away completely, so when the reality set in that I was soon to be two continents away, it opened a few old wounds, leaving mom and me crying for most of the way to the airport.
One thing that makes having lots of money a good thing, is that it can buy you comfort. Since I had to do four flights, the whole journey would take close to twenty-four hours and that would have been pure torture in Economy. I felt a bit like a prick, knowing that the combined tickets had cost more than what Jenny and her mom lived off for six months, but I wouldn't arrive half-crippled and in a way I was looking forward to a simpler life in Germany, without a housemaid, janitor, chauffeur, but instead with two drop-dead gorgeous females.
Being only fourteen, I had to live with an adult guardian, which left only two options. Either I'd be living in a dorm with a housemaster or with Jenny and her mom. Option two sounded much more alluring. They had a little bungalow in their backyard that was once meant to be rented out to summer guests, but despite the nearby Eurospeedway, tourism never caught on in the area, so they usually only had had guests on the big race weekends, like when the DTM dropped by, or the year before, during the US Memorial 500, the first CART race on European soil.
I'll never forget that race for two reasons. First, of course it was the week of the 9/11 attacks. The Germans had reacted quickly and renamed the race from German 500 to US Memorial 500 and even built a proper memorial in front of the main entrance in a matter of days. Sometimes you got to admire their no-nonsense approach. And the second reason is of course the horrible shunt of my big hero, Alex Zanardi, which cost him both legs and nearly his life. After the race Jenny and I had spoken on the phone for the first time, and we had spent almost an hour of long-distance crying together.
Once the tear-filled goodbye's were done, I made myself comfortable in the First class for the trans-continental flight to New York. To take my mind off leaving mom for the first time in my young life, I looked through my schedule. For the remaining year. I would start high school in September starting with 8th grade. School in Germany worked a bit different. They had something called Realschule, which is 1st through 10th grade. Then they have Abitur, which is 11th and 12th grade. That's comparable to high school graduation in America.
Ever wondered why Germany has had so many Nobel prize winners compared to how small it is? Their school system might have something to do with it. Starting from 5th grade you have to attend the following lessons: German, Math, Music, Arts, Russian (only in the east), Chemistry, Physics, Sports, Biology, Geography, History, Social Studies. Starting with 7th grade you have English lessons (from 5th grade in the West) and starting from 9th grade you have Astronomy. That were 13 subjects I had to look forward to and a 14th from the following year. And here's the kicker. Grades are given from 1 (very good) to 5 (failed). If you have a 5 in only one of those subjects, you'll have to repeat the entire year! It's called sitzen bleiben in German.
Of course they had made a bit of a concession for me. I wouldn't need to attend English lessons for obvious reasons, and German was accounted for as the mandatory foreign language. I would still have to take German lessons as if it was my native language, so I would probably struggle in that one. I have a knack for languages and I had a fair grasp of the language at the time, but reading Goethe's Faust and writing an essay about it, was a bit of a different caliber. That's why, when my class-mates had Russian or English lessons, I would get one-on-one crash-course lessons in German.
That was school. In terms of racing I would spend the entire August at the Eurospeedway getting to grips with cars and weeding out some karting habits, like leaning into a corner, which is a bit silly in an openwheel racing car. To gain some first experience the team had prepared a previous year's Formula-BMW car, which would be entered as the team's third car in the last three rounds at Spielberg, Austria, Zandvoort, Netherlands and the Hockenheimring in Germany. That would give me six races to gain some experience before embarking on my first full season. I would of course not be awfully competitive with a previous year's model, but that wasn't the point. The whole purpose of the exercise was to learn the tracks and gain some mileage and it was better to keep away from the business end as to not interfere with the championship battle.
On top of that I would do two last kart races. With the European Championship already decided in favor of Mrs. Allemann, and Jenny secure in second, there was no danger of interfering with the championship and I would get the team's second kart as Jenny's team mate had been rather mediocre throughout the year and had been unceremoniously sacked at the start of the summer break.
I put the whole reading material back in my backpack and reclined my seat to sleep through the red-eye flight across the continent.
When I finally walked off the Airbus at Dresden Airport, I had been through a veritable Odyssey. First the flight to New York, from there an intercontinental flight to Germany with Lufthansa to Frankfurt, a seventy-minute 200mph highspeed train-ride to Cologne airport and from there a Germanwings flight to Dresden. I was knackered and my biological clock was completely out of whack.
Since I had seen photos of Jenny's mom, it wasn't very hard to spot her in the small crowd waiting in the arrival area. Frankly, there was only one drop-dead gorgeous woman anyway, so it wasn't exactly a search for a needle in a haystack. She gave me a beaming smile when she saw me. Instead of taking my outstretched hand, she hugged me, which was surprising, because I had always labored under the assumption that Germans were all very controlled and overly disciplined people who weren't really into this kind of expressive behavior. I certainly didn't complain. Her body felt soft and her breasts were pressing against my chest, costing me a bit of effort not to show a reaction.
"Hi, I'm Regina, welcome to Germany, Mark," she said in flawless English and even without much of an accent, but that's something you would expect from an English teacher.
"Thank you," I answered in my much heavier accented German, which got me another of those incredibly beautiful smiles.
"You speak German quite well," she noted as we started to walk out of the small regional airport.
"I've spent three months at the Goethe Institute in San Francisco," I explained, feigning a headache. "Three-hundred sixty hours of crash-course lessons. At one point I even started to dream in German."
She laughed softly. It was a beautiful sound. "How was your flight?"
"Too long," I groaned tiredly. "To be honest, I'm dead tired."
"You can take a little nap when we come home, it's only forty miles," she said as we reached the car. "But we'll have to make a short stop at the shopping center. I need to buy swimsuits for Jenny and myself."
"Wow, new swimsuits, especially for me?" I said with a mischievous chuckle. "I feel like a celebrity."
Regina laughed back. "No, we actually don't have any. We normally swim in the nude, but I know things are a bit more reserved in America and we don't want to make you uncomfortable."
She was a bit stunned when I laughed out loud. "Just three months ago, mom had to collect me at the police station after I was arrested for indecent exposure. I'd gone skinny dipping in the bay and some old lady nearly had a heart attack and called the cops."
"You are kidding," she said and laughed in disbelief. I shook my head.
"Really happened," I insisted. "One of the things I was looking forward to was going to swim naked without having to look out for the cops. I've read there are lots of nude beaches in East Germany."
"It was the the big thing in communist times," she explained, pulling out of the parking lot. "It still is, but back then the state actually encouraged it. We always joked that they were probably trying to sell all swimsuits and bikinis to the west."
We both chuckled at that.
"Well, looks like we don't need to stop at the mall after all," she said with a smile. "By the way, you could go to the Senftenberger See. It has a nude beach, but you can also swim at home. One of the few good things my ex ever managed to do was building a big pool. In the winter we can even heat it."
"That's a good thing," I said, smiling back. "I'm a bit spoiled in terms of weather. Temperatures like today are called October back home in Pasadena."
"Oh dear. You must really love racing to give that up for our German weather. The Eurospeedway was built here, because we are considered the driest region in Germany and you will still learn to hate the rain."
"Do we have a gym nearby?" I asked. "And a place to go jogging in the morning?"
"We have a small gym in the basement," she said, sounding slightly abashed. "It was a birthday present from your parents for Jenny."
"Wow," I said, astonished by the news. "She must be a special girl. I mean, money doesn't really matter for dad, but he spends rather conservatively."
"Without him Jenny would have had to give up her karting last year. Now she's in second place in the European championships. We owe your parents a lot."
"You don't owe us nothing," I said. "After all, I'm profiting from it, too."
"I must warn you," Regina said. "Jenny has quite a crush on you. All she's been talking about since we decided you're going to live here is her Mark from America."
I blushed a little, but also couldn't help but smile. "There are worse things than being the crush of a very pretty girl," I said smoothly. "And to be honest, I like her a lot too. She has a really beautiful voice."
Regina just smiled as she turned off the Autobahn.
As we drove the last few kilometers into Senftenberg, there was a lull in conversation and I actually dozed off for a few moments.
"Oh dear, you're really tired, aren't you?"
I just nodded sleepily.
When we got out of the car I was attacked by a petite blond missile.
"Hi, you finally came, I've waited so long to finally see you. How are you? Do you like it here?"
I tiredly returned Jenny's hug, not really registering her gushing.
"Stop it, Jenny," Regina stepped in. "Mark has been on the airplane for over twenty hours. You'll have enough time to get acquainted. Let's get started on dinner and give him two or three hours rest, okay?"
I smiled tiredly and Jenny blushed a bit, embarrassed by her own exuberance. "Sweet dreams," she said and kissed me on the cheek, which made me blush. She bounded back into the house, affording me a look at her firm little butt, tightly hugged by a pair of yoga pants. Damn, she looked sexy.
Regina giggled and pushed up my jaw with her fingers to close my mouth. "You'll catch flies, Romeo. Let's show you your new home.
A nap had never felt so refreshing. I didn't know how long I'd been out, but there was still bright light outside when I woke up. Momentarily disorientated by the unknown surroundings, I looked around sleepily and saw Jenny sit at the foot-end of the bed in a lotus posture. She was wearing Yoga pants again and a tank top.
"You look cute when you're sleeping," she said in German.
"Did I suck on my thumb or anything?"
"What time is it?" I asked sleepily.
"Wow four hours," I said, which made her giggle.
"No, it's seven in the morning," she said, grinning. "You've been out for sixteen hours."
"That explains, why I'm so hungry," I replied and threw the blanket aside, forgetting that I had been sleeping naked, like always. Maybe I was still half asleep or something, I still didn't register my state of undress when I told her I'd be right back and staggered to the bathroom.
Sitting on the throne, my mind finally cleared and I realized what I'd done. I thought for a moment about wrapping a towel around my waist, but that would have been silly with Jenny having seen everything already. I took a quick shower and walked back out, rubbing my hair dry. Jenny was sitting on my bed, and this time it were my eyes, which went wide. She was stark naked, too. Her pants and shirt lay on my bed.
"Thought I'd return the favor," she said with a beaming smile, not the least bit self conscious. "You look really cute."
"So do you, more than cute actually," I returned and she blushed a little.
She was quite slim, with a hint of womanly hips. Her boobs had probably started growing no more than a year ago. She had two little perfectly shaped cones, topped by pale-pink little nipples. In one word – she was gorgeous. Her little pussy was completely bald and I couldn't quite make out if she was shaved or simply hadn't grown any hair yet, although at fourteen she should probably have had some already. My best guess was she shaved it off like I did. With a six-point harness in the racing car, too much pubic hair could cause skin irritation, especially once one starts to sweat under the fire-retardant underwear.
"Wanna jump in the pool? We are already dressed for it," she asked and I nodded with a grin. She took my hand and we walked outside.
Regina spent most of breakfast giggling as Jenny told her animatedly how I had staggered out of bed, not realizing that I was buck-naked.
After letting the breakfast settle a bit, we went on our morning run. Regina did it mainly to keep herself in shape, while Jenny and I had to do it to build up stamina. I had to say, Jenny in particular, set a really stiff pace and I realized that I had to catch up a bit if I wanted to get my fitness up to European standards.
After that all three of us cooled off in the pool and I got a good look at Regina for the first time – and god almighty was she gorgeous. Like Jenny she was shaven, leaving her beautiful mature pussy in plain sight. She had medium sized breasts, perfectly round and proudly firm. She had caught me looking a few times but seemed not the least bit concerned. In fact it seamed as if she was even puffing out her chest a little. And she certainly ogled me a bit as well.
I wasn't really large, but then which fourteen year old boy is? I had never measured myself, but my guess was about five inches, fully hard, which at the time I fortunately wasn't, but that was mainly due to me reciting Alex Zanardi's 1997 CART results in my head to prevent any embarrassing manifestation of arousal. I could see Jenny pout a bit, when she thought I might have paid a bit too much attention to her mom's body, so I made a point of scooting over and coming to rest next to her. That made her relax and smile at me.
We spent a pleasant half hour talking about the upcoming days and soon my initial worry about getting too excited with to gorgeous girls next to me subsided.
Around half past eight, Jenny and I departed for the track. It was a mere twenty minute bike ride, which gave us more training as we would make the journey four times every day - in the morning, then back for lunch, back to the track for the afternoon training and then back home in the evening.
When we arrived at the team's base, a lanky forty-something guy introduced himself as Peter Maassen, the team boss. As he introduced me to various members of the team in almost flawless, if heavily accented English, I asked him to speak German, as I needed more practice with the language. If nothing else for the purpose of not making 8th grade an endless loop by failing German lessons.
He asked us if we had experience with driving cars, but I had to admit, that I'd only ever driven dad's car, an automatic, so Peter sent us out in a little Volkswagen Polo with Jenny in the passenger seat teaching me to work with a stick shift. She spent most of the time giggling madly whenever I missed a gear.
After about half an hour I got the hang of it and had a good grasp of the track. Jenny kept giving me tips on several corners. We were using the 3.4 kilometer DTM track that was also used for Formula-BMW races and it was one of only two tracks on the calender with a banked corner. Here is was the turn three of the oval that was turn fourteen on the infield road course. Another banked corner is in Zandvoort, Netherlands.
Once I was sufficiently comfortable with the track and the transmission, I put in a number of flying laps with Jenny taking the time with a stopwatch. We worked together like a well-oiled machine as if we'd done that all our lives. After forty-five minutes we switched places and Jenny laid down some smoking tires. Jeebus H. Christ, that girl didn't muck about. Her superior track knowledge showed. She was riding the kerbs like a desperate cowboy and on more than one occasion we navigated the ADAC corner on two wheels. When her forty-five minutes were up, the Lupo was more than due for a tire change and she'd beaten my best lap time by a full three seconds, which in racing terms is a week.
After a short break, some refreshments and a short debriefing, Peter presented us with with two one year old Cup Lupos. They were race prepared Volkswagen Lupos with 135 horse power in a car that didn't weight much more than a paper bag. When we bounded out, a crazy impulse struck me and I gave Jenny a peck on the lips and I could see she was a bit dazed when donning her helmet.
Once she was in the car, however, she didn't muck about. Jeez these things could accelerate. I desperately tried to follow Jenny's lines through the corners and I can safely say, I've never been sweating like that in all my life. It wasn't so much the exertion, as the cars had power steering. It was the Adrenaline rush. She was driving like she stole it. After about ten minutes and already at least five car lengths behind, I lifted and drove the rest of the lap at a leisurely pace. Coming up to turn fourteen, the banked turn 3 of the oval, I mashed the throttle down and started to work on my own lines, hoping I could get close to her times without having a coronary.
Knowing that openwheel cars are a lot more brittle than the buggers we were sitting in, I tried to leave the kerbs alone. Over the next twenty minutes I worked out a nice flow of the circuit and I could see Jenny come up behind me in the distance. A couple of laps later she lapped me and waved at me as she sailed past on the back-straight. I just continued my program stoically until my race engineer Bernd held out the pit boards for both of us to come into the pits.
We parked next to the team garage and Jenny walked up to me, grinning when she took her helmet off. "I've lapped you," she stated the obvious. I just smiled back.
"That you did," I conceded. "But you completely missed the purpose of the exercise. You wouldn't have lasted two laps in a Formula-BMW car. Either you would have spun in turn eight or you would have wrecked the suspension."
She harrumphed and muttered something like 'making excuses'.
"Okay, honey, what about a bet?" I offered. "If Peter says I did it right, I get a kiss from you."
"You already got that before we started," she reminded me with amusement and I could easily tell she was all but offended by my earlier boldness.
"Jenny, that wasn't a kiss. I'm talking about a real kiss."
She gasped, blushed a little and preceded me into the team's trailer, giggling.
Just as I had expected, Peter said she did a fantastic job, but only if she wanted to ditch single-seaters in favor of a touring car career. Instead he praised me for working out what the purpose was and told me that for a single-seater line my times in the Cup Lupo were more than competitive and he thought I was ready to have a first go in the Formula-BMW car in the afternoon.
Jenny had to return to kart practice in the afternoon, as her season was not yet over. She wasn't very happy about it, thinking that she would be at a competitive disadvantage in the next season with me having more mileage and six races already, but Peter made it clear to her that a proper racing driver makes the best out of the conditions he or she is given, citing the old Ron Dennis quote of getting out of the kitchen if you can't stand the heat. Peter is a very friendly man, but when it matters, he can be as hard and ruthless as every other team principal.
"Hey, don't take it too hard, okay," I tried to cheer Jenny up during the bike ride home. She seemed on the verge of crying, both by the belated defeat and the harsh words from Peter.
She nodded, but her mood only lightened marginally.
"He's thinking of you, you know? If you give up kart practice now, Cyndie Allemann will win all the remaining races and you'll have an image of giving up when you can't win the championship anymore. You have your seat for next year, but you want to get a little further than Formula-BMW, don't you?"
She nodded and I could see she started to understand where Peter was coming from.
"I-I'm just afraid that you will win next year and go off to Formula-3 and leave me behind. I want to become a Formula-1 driver, too, but as your team mate."
Whoa! Talk about knocking me over with a feather. I had noticed that I was quickly falling for her, but despite her mom's claim that she had a crush on me, I hadn't thought it was that serious.
"Jenny, I promise you, I won't leave you behind," I assured her.