Chapter 31: Unspectacular

Regina

There is a saying in German: “he or she grins like a freshly fucked squirrel”.

Femke didn’t look anything like a squirrel, but everything else was a more than apt description, when the three delinquents came back from their excursion. Meri and I had had more than enough fun by ourselves too, so the evening went on without any silly games. We just sat around the table with our drinks – five people, deeply sated, naked, and grinning like idiots.

Whatever they had done though, it had opened the floodgates on Femke, big time. Over the next two days she went through all other girls at least once and had at least three bouts with Mark. It looked like she wanted to make up for five years of missed orgasms within the week.

There was something surreal about standing naked at the stove, trying to make scrambled eggs for everybody’s breakfast, while Mark was pounding the sweet bejesus out of Femke nearby, doggy style. Normally he preferred his women standing against a wall, but for obvious reasons that position would have been somewhat impractical in a tent. Thankfully said tent was a bit of a distance away from the others and Femke wasn’t nearly as loud as Lydia.

Later that day, on the Friday, we all piled into the street barge. In that massive thing we could easily fit three girls on the rear sets, especially since Lydia doesn’t take up much space to begin with. Femke, who would be racing the next day, sat on the passenger seat in the front, and she was still grinning like an imbecile. She had never stopped doing so for the last three days.

Since there were no bikes mounted on the roof of the car and no trailer hitched to it this time, Mark could give it a bit more hoof on the Autobahn. For something the size of a small country, the Exxon Valdez was quite a speedy barge.

Mark

Unlike the other race I had attended, this one in Denmark was a lot more spectator friendly. Normally time trials ran from point A to point B, but this one was held on a street circuit in Copenhagen, which had to be lapped three times for an overall distance of twenty-one miles. That meant people got to see the riders more than once, albeit not for long. The best riders hit thirty miles per hour on the flat circuit.

And they certainly didn’t get much time to see Femke. That girl was on fire. Every time she went through the speed trap she was significantly faster than she would have been allowed to in a car.

“I hope Mark’s spunk doesn’t show up as a banned substance during doping control,” Meri joked. “That girl has to pee in a cup today, because she’s winning, I tells you.”

We all chuckled, but agreed with Meri’s prediction. And it came true. Femke won by 45 seconds, which doesn’t sound like much, but it was actually massive when considering that a twenty-one year old rider from a small team had beaten the entire field of elite time trial specialists. And it was not too big a stretch of the imagination that some of those had prepared by less than legal means.

We had to wait nearly an hour before Femke had gone through all the rigmarole after the race – doping control, winner’s ceremony, press interviews. Once she was free to go though, she tackled each and everyone of us and planted a hot kiss on each. So much for staying inconspicuous...

Lydia

It was already eight in the evening when we arrived back in Prerow. We had stopped for dinner at a restaurant near the German-Danish border, so all we had to do was getting out of our clothes and we could skip straight to the evening drinks. We had just told Femke about Meri’s roadside quip about Mark’s body fluids that he had pumped into her in copious amounts over the last days.

“I might need some doping though,” Mark teased us. “I’m not a marathon runner, my stamina is limited.”

“Don’t worry, big boy,” Femke assured him. “I have most of it out of my system for now. But you better be available when we have a big race. We might have found a legal performance booster.”

We all had to giggle about that.

Mark

Of course that had not been entirely correct. ‘Most of it out of the system’ had been Femke’s way of saying that she would jump my bones only every second day for the remainder of our stay in Prerow.

Not wanting to neglect my better half I had suggested to go to the ‘secret beach’ twice. Lydia was simply too loud to do it in the tent. She asked me to concentrate on the other girls, as she would soon have me all to herself. We were slated to return to the states a week after returning from Prerow.

I was still kept busy enough, especially since Regina had decided that she wanted to take deep-throating lessons. Under the tutelage of Femke she practiced on the obvious subject – me. There are worse fates than getting at least two blowjobs every day, but by the time we started to take down our tents on the second Sunday in Prerow, I was seriously looking forward to having some quiet time, just with Lydia.

Lydia

When we came home to Emden, it looked like rush hour. Bea had come home at the same time as we pulled into the street. It was good to see that she had apparently completely recovered and taken up driving again. Although she could have used our Nissan, she stubbornly clung on to her old Wartburg car from East Germany. The familiar waft of two-stroke fumes greeted us when we arrived.

The first thing we saw was a broadly grinning Jenny getting out of Bea’s car clutching a big trophy, presenting it to her surprised mother.

“Hi. I thought she’s too young to compete yet?” I greeted my sister.

“She can only start next year for national races, but she is eligible for the local club championship, which she has obviously won.”

“That kid will go places,” I said admiringly.

Meri

Coming back home from a holiday is hard work. By the time we had unhitched the trailers and stored them in the backyard, unloaded the street barge and had given Femke a cheerful send-off to Groningen, it was almost dark.

The laundry could wait till the next day and a lot of unpacked bags were still in the corridor. We weren’t in too much of a hurry. Chatting over a drink we hadn’t heard Lydia’s sister come over to our half of the house. Since we were, as usual as of late, topless, she just took her top and bra off too. I could see Mark’s eyes go wide.

“Mind if I join you?” Bea asked.

She looked at Mark’s stunned expression – mouth open – and gently pushed up his jaw with her finger.

“You’ll catch flies,” she admonished him in jest.

I knew of course where Mark’s shock was coming from. During her time of recovery, the impression exaggerated by her constant exhaustion, Lydia’s sister had often sounded like an old woman. But in reality she was five years younger than Lydia.

Since I had been living with her in the other part of the house, I did know of course that Bea was as much of a nudist as we were. The only time you would encounter her wearing anything above the waist line was when Jenny was around or when she went outside.

Unlike he did with Lydia, Mark actually thought of her as a mother, which was why he was at first feeling quite awkward.

“Get used to it, Mark,” I told him with a grin. “She’s always like that, not only in the evenings.”

“Yes, and unlike my big sister over there, I have to pay the price for it,” Bea added with a giggle.

True, her breasts, which were quite a bit larger than Lydias, were ever so slightly sagging, but not awfully much for a twenty-eight year old woman who almost never wore a bra.

“And just so that none of you gets any wrong ideas,” Bea continued. “I have nothing against the shenanigans you’re all engaged in, but I have no plans to get involved myself. And I trust you make sure that you’re not getting walked in on by Jenny.”

We spent the rest of the evening chatting about Jenny’s karting exploits and gave G-rated accounts of our time in Prerow.

Mark

It felt almost weird not to be surrounded by women, naked or clothed. Regina and Jenny were on their way to Cottbus for three days. Since they were about to live here in Emden from now on, they had taken the Ford Granada to get their belongings, which Regina insisted were so meager they would all fit in that big car.

Since her furniture, unlike the house, had not been all that old, she wanted to try and sell off as much of it as she could over the next three days. That would give her a bit of starting finances until her job with Bill O’Connor’s company started. Three days was a bit short, but she was about to enroll in college the next Wednesday, so time was of the essence.

And for a change there were good news. Our entire stay in Prerow had gone completely unnoticed by the press – or more likely – some poor sod with a telephoto lens on his camera had been caught out by a very burly security guard.

The one who was happiest about that was John. He had had his fill of seeing Lydia’s or Meri’s boobs in the press. It presented him with lots of PR gold, but he wasn’t awfully happy that they were known more for their lack of body modesty than their substantial sporting achievements. After all, that could potentially lead to problems contracting other female athletes, who might be led to believe that appearing nude in the papers was a requirement.

He had also made a job offer to me. Now that he had an office in Berlin, he wanted to expand into the German market. And although I was officially no longer German, I could be of help in that regard, especially since a job in his company would provide excellent cover for Lydia and me. A successful athlete hooking up with someone from his or her management company was so common, the press wouldn’t smell a story in it.

Since he had lent us his plane several times that year, which didn’t really count as company-related, he had gotten a rap on the knuckles from the IRS, so he offered that we and his company co-lease a Dassault Falcon 10. We would split the cost and the taxman could no longer complain if we used it for private travel.

I immediately talked to Lydia about that, as the idea certainly had some appeal and it was within our financial reach. Leasing it by ourselves would have stretched our resources.