In the Long Run
Copyright© 2024 by The Horse With No Name
Chapter 106: That’s a First
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 106: That’s a First - Mark and Lydia hit a lot of bumps during the cold war and fate eventually brings them to the other side of the globe, but even there the challenges don't end. This is the founding story of my planned "It's always the Germans" universe, which will be created when this story reaches the year 1998.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft mt/Fa Consensual Romantic Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction Sports Incest Mother Son Light Bond Orgy Anal Sex Double Penetration Exhibitionism First Fisting Massage Oral Sex Pegging Petting Nudism
Mark
As always, when a political decision was made, there was no time being lost to oppose it. Despite the fact that we had planned those three days in the French resort to be a time of relaxation, it almost turned into a busman’s holiday. Okay, all three of us were naked, so there was at least some semblance of being on vacation, but Jenny had her nose permanently buried in the rule books of the DMSB - the German motorsports association - and the VLN regulations, the special rules for races on the Nürburgring.
Meanwhile, I was either answering Emails or phone calls. Before the DMSB had even had the chance to put out a press release about the new pilot project of allowing a fourteen year old to attain a national racing license, others had been quick to do the good old ‘and what about my child?’ routine. I could only imagine the avalanche of calls by entitled rich parents who were flabbergasted why some girl from the east zone - yes some still referred to East Germany in such terms - was chosen over their precious son. Even the Swiss authorities had gotten in on it, apparently, reminding their German colleagues that they too had a very talented girl who had more than one karting championship to her name.
Despite being cc’ed in a lot of Emails, I didn’t have the entire picture, but it was not hard to guess that Peter Maassen, the team principal of Jenny’s Eurospeedway Academy team, had gotten himself involved in the behind-the-scenes wrangling. And by the look of it, the man was a shrewd political operator, so much was obvious when reading the final press release of the DMSB.
They described their pilot scheme of allowing exceptionally successful kart racers to attain the German national racing license at age fourteen. So far the minimum age had been fifteen for the lower openwheel leagues and sixteen for touring cars. As a first step, three young drivers would participate in the process: The two currently leading drivers of the European karting championship and the winner of last year’s karting world championship. However, last year’s world champion was exactly as old as I and had no intention of ever graduating out of karting, so the honors went to the runner-up instead, who - conveniently - was an American by the name of Matthew Bond. Among the three of them they represented five German national titles, two Swiss championships, a junior European championship, three American national championships and a second place in the world championships. Nobody could accuse the DMSB of not selecting by merit.
I was just reading through the latest email, when Jenny interrupted the relatively long silence as of late.
“Does anyone need a quick excursion to the loo? I would need the shower for quite a while.”
“What happened? Is the water in the lake too cold after all?” I asked with a chuckle that I was to regret almost instantly.
Jenny stood up and pointed at her dark, sparse layer of pubic hair. “I can’t clean that one up in the lake, can I?”
I sighed and shook my head. “Why do I ask questions I don’t want to know the answer to?”
Ira
Well, those three days had come and gone really fast. Thankfully the way from the French resort to the Nürburgring was nothing we couldn’t manage in a single tour. Mark had done the first four and a half hour leg, which brought us close to the French-German border, and after a short lunch in a roadside restaurant, I took over for the rest of the trip, giving Mark some time to rest as he was expected to do even more mileage next day to collect Matt at Cologne airport.
I had argued against keeping Matt’s arrival a secret from Jenny, after all the two kids had waited nearly six endless years for each other, but Mark pointed out that, were she to know, it was unlikely that she would be focused enough to pass her license test and run her first race in a proper race car. Frankly, I couldn’t argue with that.
When we finally arrived at the Nürburgring, we dropped Jenny off at the Dorint hotel, where she was going to share a room with Nadja. The rest of Mark’s extended family had arrived in the Granada and the second RV, probably already waiting for us to arrive as they had brought the smaller one that wouldn’t house them all for the night.
It was hard to miss that not only Portugal, Spain and France had been unusually warm for the time of year. Germany was no exception. When we finally arrived at our designated spot, somewhere on the fringes of the paddock, we were greeted by Meri, Lydia, Regina and Femke, all clad in matching yoga pants and T-Shirts.
We, as in the other girls and I, caught up on the latest gossip and news, while it fell to Mark to get the RV connected to the external power supply. These RVs had to be quintessentially German, because Mark unloaded some fencing components from the cargo bay of the bigger one, essentially creating a cordoned off area around the two RVs with a table and chairs in between the two vehicles. How German was that, essentially building a mobile Dacha in a race track paddock.
Regina
The evening after Ira and Mark had arrived went relatively quiet. We sat in our now fenced off area, chatting, and in Femke and Mark’s case of course, drinking beer. It wasn’t like he hadn’t earned himself a drink. He had prepared all the beds in both RVs. With six people, we would need all but one of the beds in the large RV. The smaller one would remain unused until Matt arrived.
Jenny had opted to stay in the hotel with Nadja, and had also asked us, not to watch her license test exam on Friday morning. Normally she was fairly unflappable, even on a race weekend. However, this was not a normal race weekend. She was to become the first fourteen year old to race on one of the world’s most grueling race tracks, and she didn’t want to block that potential route for others by making a hash of it. If we could help her with that by not being in her hair, we were only too willing to indulge her. Nadja’s team had gotten all of us VIP passes, which meant we would be able to watch the race from the VIP lounges without being in Jenny’s way.
When Mark arrived back from Cologne the next day, the first meeting with Matt had been nothing like we had imagined it. For an outside observer it would have looked like he had just come back from a vacation. None of us had ever met him before, in fact, I was the only one who had ever seen him in anything but photographs, namely in a few video chats, but considering that Jenny had never for a minute been able to shut up about him all those years, it felt like we had all known him for ages. We passed him around like a baton, everyone taking her turn to hug him, but that was that then. He had arrived and it felt like he had always belonged with us. The only thing left for me to do was dropping his father Jeff a message that he had arrived safely.
Lydia
Staying out of Jenny’s hair proved to be rather comfortable. While the pit lane looked like a veritable beehive, with over a hundred teams sharing only forty pit garages, we could watch the carnage from the luxurious VIP lounge above. The only downside of it was that we could only watch the start-finish straight, which was much less entertaining than the spot we had spectated at last year. The food however more than made up for it. The various buffets were so well stocked, even Meri found several things that she could let us eat without objection.
The only one not really enjoying it was Regina. Once Jenny had actually gotten in the car she had been really tense, heaving a sigh of relief every time the iconic Opel with the foxtail on its antenna blasted by on the start-finish straight, meaning that her daughter had finished another lap without harming herself. I could only hope that the large food truck would be ready soon. Regina could really use a job that would take her mind off the fact that her teenage daughter was driving around one of the most dangerous race tracks at decidedly unsafe velocities.
My thoughts were interrupted by Mark slinging his arms around me from behind. I enjoyed his touch for while and neither of us said anything. Femke gave us a smile as she passed by with a fresh beer in her hand. That girl was incorrigible.
Mark put a key in my hand that seemed strangely familiar.
“Nadja’s hotel key?” I asked. “What are you doing with it?”
“It’s ours for the night,” he said calmly. “Jenny and Matt will be in the small RV and Nadja will stay with the girls. The two of us, however, have to talk about a few things, wouldn’t you say? And this particular hotel has a history in that regard.”
Instead of arguing, I just nodded and Mark kept holding me as we continued to watch the race.
Mark
Well, things had been quite hectic over the last two days, but all in all I thought things had gone better than expected. Jenny had now her first ever car race under her belt, and not only had she done a competent job of it, she had even been named driver of the race, an honor that came with a sizable prize money. The award had been bestowed upon her by an expert panel, which had chosen her because she was not only the youngest ever driver to compete, but she had also posted the fastest lap times of any SP3 car. That was the class her team was competing in.
As an added bonus, someone had chosen Matt as the one to hand the trophy to her. That neatly solved a potential yellow press problem. A fourteen year old girl suddenly showing up on the racing scene would have given some less reputable rags fancy ideas, but since the track announcer had made clear that the young guy handing her the trophy was also her boyfriend, neatly precluded any speculative stories in the future.
To the surprise of nobody, Jenny and Matt had made a beeline for the RV and had not been seen for the rest of the evening. According to Regina’s phone call, there was no suspiciously rocking vehicle. In fact, the two of them were sleeping soundly, and even clothed at that. I could only guess that the jet lag had finally floored young Matt.
While I opened my first beer, sitting in one of the chairs in the hotel room, Lydia came out of the bathroom, gloriously naked, but unlike usually, she looked somewhat nervous. She even fidgeted a bit.
“Step in front of the mirror, my love,” I told her. While she hesitantly did so, I stood up and taped a photo to the upper right corner of the mirror.
“Tell me what you see,” I continued as I sat back down at the table.
“Well, myself, twice,” she said. “Did you take that photo while we were at John’s estate in the Caribbean? You took photos while Jenny was with us?”
I snorted with a good dose of sarcasm. “Yes I took that photo of you on St. Kitt’s and Nevis, but not last month. I took it four years ago, when we did the photo shoot for Das Magazin. You’re making my point perfectly, here. You didn’t even notice yourself that it is an older photo, because not even you can tell the difference. So what’s this sudden insecurity of yours all about?”
She sighed and sat down across from me. “Mark, I’m forty one. Okay, so I didn’t see the difference right away, but now that you’ve told me, I can see it.”
“My point exactly,” I argued. “You need a second, third or fourth look to see the difference. And just for the record, even if that was not the case, do you really think that would have changed anything? Just think about what happened to Meri after she retired from cycling. Instead of shunning her because of her weight gain, we all supported her, and none of us loved her any less. What makes you think it would be different with you?”
“It’s Doreen,” she admitted, barely above a whisper.
“You are afraid, because she’s the first girl I’ve been with who isn’t older or the same age as I.”
Lydia confirmed my statement with a nod, looking down at her feet.
“Sometimes you can be unintentionally hilarious, love. Do I need to remind you that both Mario and Ian are quite a bit younger than I? You’ve been with both of them more than once and I’ve never thought for a minute that it would make the least bit of a difference.”
“Easy for you guys to say that,” Lydia argued with a lopsided grin. “If you take care of yourself, you look good well into old age. We women have to pay the bill at some point, even if somewhat belatedly in my case. We can’t fight gravity, no matter how long we successfully resisted it.”
“And your reasoning is that I will at some point just forget about you and turn to someone younger,” I finished her thought, not bothering to hide that the thought offended me.
To my surprise Lydia didn’t get defensive. She became angry. “Well, what part of our anatomy are you most obsessed with? And what part of our anatomy will be most affected by age, hm?”
That stunned me into silence a bit. The accusation of having a boob fetish was not the reason. I was guilty as charged. What hit me was the realization that I had never given it much thought that it could affect the girls negatively. I had always been fascinated with the two parts of their body that were inevitably going to be most affected by age.
“I’m sorry,” I said for want of a better idea. “I’ve never given it much thought that my obsession with your breasts might make you feel insecure. But do you seriously think that I will one day tell you to put the shirt back on after you took it off?”
“That’s the point,” Lydia insisted. “How can I know, or poor Meri for that matter. She will have a much bigger problem than any of us in a few years.”