Chapter 63: Go Trabi Go!

Lydia

Finding a Hotel with a suite big enough to house all of us had not been easy, but the Amerikalinjen Hotel, named after a historic shipping line, had one such suite, and at 800 bucks a night for the four of us it was quite a bit more sensibly priced than some of the places we had stayed at over the years.

And tonight definitely felt like the good old times. Nadja and I had pummeled each other’s pussies with strap-ons, while Mark and Femke were a good part of the way into their traditional ‘good luck boink’. It was a tradition that had temporarily been abandoned since 1996 as Femke had been in a committed relationship with Jonjo, but since she was a free agent again now, the two of them had happily resurrected their cherished ritual.

As she had done in years gone by, Femke made a point of it to give us a good look at what they were doing. Their ‘good luck boink’ wasn’t just a random tryst, it was a veritable live porn performance. I had a suspicion Femke would have liked to take him up the back alley too, but none of us could afford to go into a thirty kilometer race the next day with an ass tingling from the abuse of the night before, so any rear-door fun would have to wait until the next evening.

Not that it stopped Femke from going through the whole program sans the anal fun. It would probably never cease to amaze me just how long Mark could keep at it. Too bad there weren’t any Sex Olympics. We certainly would have won a few more Olympic medals than we already had.

Mark

The race had not even begun, but I was already knackered, mainly because I had gone through the task of satisfying three ladies the evening before. Nadja had been a relatively easy ‘task’. Putting a blindfold on her and making her serve as a naked maid was a guaranteed way to bring her close to orgasm without even touching her. Lydia was not much work either. I knew where all her buttons were and how to push them.

Femke, well she was of course a whole different beast – in a good sense. One needed a good idea what to do to make her climax, which was why she had had her first ever orgasm years back during our first vacation at the Baltic sea. Needless to say, the show we had put on the evening before had been a lengthy one.

If that traditional tryst before important competitions really had a motivational effect, she would need it today. Femke was going to be way out of her comfort zone in the upcoming race. For starters, she preferred the freestyle technique, but this race was going to be contested using the classic style. And secondly, due to her muscular physique, she was suited to the shorter sprint distances. This race though was going to be thirty kilometers long, the longest Olympic distance for female athletes.

Normally she wouldn’t even have thought about taking part but, of all people, Jenny had given her a piece of her mind, bluntly telling Femke that not starting at the crown-jewel of the World Cup was akin to snubbing a start at Le Mans, because the race ‘was a wee bit too long’. Bowing to the persuasive power of Jenny’s passionate speech, she had decided to give it a try.

Since the running order was decided by reversed position in the overall World Cup standings, Lydia was going first, as she was currently 157th in the standings. Having only done the one race the day before, she was the tenth athlete to start the race. Nadja started about twenty athletes later, then – shortly after – Femke got underway and Stella started much later as she was actually twenty-sixth in the standings.

The one who seemed to have the least problems was – unsurprisingly – Lydia. Although the most inexperienced in the small team, the classic style played into her hands. Finding a steady pace and keeping to it had been her modus operandi for years and, unlike in cycling races, she could do that from start to finish as everyone was running by her own.

Femke on the other hand started suffering about half-way into the race. Her impressive muscles were a boon in short sprint races, but over such a long distance, they were a liability. Due to her higher weight, she had to expend much more energy than her much smaller team mates. Not wanting to invoke the wrath of Jenny though, and pretty stubborn in her own right, she soldiered on.

Nadja, who also preferred the classic style, ran a solid race. Unlike Lydia though, she wasn’t quite as solid on keeping a steady pace, so Uwe, their coach, decided that this would be the focus for training during the off-season. She still wasted energy by her frequent pace changes.

I knew that because I was helping out as Uwe’s assistant during the race. Since Uwe was unable to be at two places at the same time, I had volunteered to man the second coaching zone, and it turned out to be a good thing, because Stella, the forth team member, who had started late in the order, had broken one of her ski poles, and she was only allowed to take a new one in a coaching zone. Giving me a grateful smile as I handed her a new one, she continued on her way to a very satisfying thirteenth place finish.

The big surprise though was Lydia. In her first ever individual race, she ended up in seventh place. Nadja also made the top twenty in eighteenth and Femke finished a rather anonymous thirty-first.

Regina

I could tell there wouldn’t be any celebratory shenanigans in that hotel room in Oslo that night. Lydia, Femke and Nadja had all collapsed after crossing the finish line. That looked more dramatic than it was, in fact many other skiers had done the same, but I knew them all good enough to know that they were truly knackered. Even Lydia, who was used to running several marathons a year looked completely exhausted when she was interviewed about her surprisingly good finish.

Needless to say that her unexpectedly good result was not the only reason why Lydia was the flavor of the day. It wasn’t every day that a three-times Summer Olympics winner was having her debut in a winter discipline at the tender young age of thirty-nine. One of the reporters even asked her – tongue in cheek of course – if she was planning to compete all events in the Sidney Olympics next year.

It certainly had inspired Jenny. Although she was rather mediocre at most sports, except driving vehicles really, really fast, she declared her intention of going for something called the Triple Crown which, if I remembered her lengthy monologue correctly, meant she was intending to win the Monaco Grand Prix, the twenty-four hours of Le Mans and something called the Indy 500. Considering that Meri went pale at the mere mention of said event, I gathered it wasn’t a particularly safe one. Thankfully, at age twelve, Jenny was nowhere near old enough to be eligible for any car races, so we could safely postpone any discussion about it for another few years.

Femke

Wild celebratory sex had always been somewhat of a tradition among us, but on this day we all just went to bed. It was testament to our complete exhaustion, that we all ended up in different beds. The only one not sleeping alone was Lydia, who always had first dibs on Mark as a sleeping companion, but even the two of them did just that – they slept.

The hotel suite, which in reality was more like a large, luxurious apartment, even had a kitchen, which was very handy. Except Mark all of us were competitive athletes and subject to frequent doping controls, so the safest way to make sure that none of us unwittingly ingested any banned substances was to prepare the meals ourselves or have them provided by a trustworthy source. We wouldn’t be the first athletes to be caught out because they had eaten beef that had been treated with hormones and antibiotics.

Beef was of course not on the menu for breakfast anyway, although there was a rather drool-inducing piece of meat on display in the form of Mark’s well-shaped butt. Having appointed himself the designated cook, by dint of being the first one to wake up, he was currently preparing breakfast and he wasn’t wearing anything but an apron.

I could hear Lydia giggle behind me, and I shrugged off my bathrobe. It was clear none of us would be wearing anything during the morning meal.

Nadja

Sometimes I had to pinch myself to remind myself that this amazing turn my life had taken was actually real.

Fred and Ian, the pilots who had flown us to Oslo had been swapped for a crew of two younger pilots as Ian and Fred could not afford to stay away from their business for three days. With the danger gone that Ian would get an unexpected preview of what was planned for his birthday, Lydia had taken the chance to be the topless stewardess for the return flight, much to the obvious joy of Mark.

If that boy had a superpower, it was the fact that he could look at your tits in a way that made it seem they were the most gorgeous pair he’d ever seen and that you had just whipped them out for the first time ever. Knowing Lydia’s and Mark’s history, I knew he had seen her boobs regularly for at least a decade now, but he still looked as amazed as if she had bared them for the first time ever.

Of course there was Lydia’s superpower too. When Mark had seen them for the first time a decade ago, they had looked pretty much the same as they did now. How that woman managed to seemingly not age at all was a question for the scientists. At twenty-six, I wasn’t exactly grandma material yet, but even my little boobs had taken a small knock by gravity already – not so Lydia’s, and she was an actual grandma.

They all looked at me when I started cackling during my mental ruminations. I just shrugged.

“I just had this thought. She will of course not remember it, but one day we can tell Feli that she watched her grandma make her skiing debut.”

They all laughed, even Lydia.

“I doubt that,” Mark said. “I bet she was looking at Regina’s tits while emptying them.”

More laughter.

Meri

It was a good thing I was out in the backyard with Feli, because the noises from the house told me that my sweetheart Regina was currently on her back, being ravaged somewhat fierce by Mark. Due to recent events the two of them had spent much less time with each other than they normally did. By the sound of it they were determined to make up for lost time in a single day.

Lydia and Nadja had no problems giving up Mark for the day. The only way their complex love life could work was that nobody claimed exclusive possession of the household’s sole male of the species. There was the unwritten rule that nobody would ever get in the way of Lydia, but that case rarely came up. Although Lydia didn’t show her age, her sex drive had slowed down a bit, although the emphasis was on a bit.

Truth be told, they didn’t miss him much at the moment. Femke, who was going to join Lydia and Nadja in altitude training in three days time, had foregone a stop-over at home in Groningen and would be staying in our home until then, and both Lydia and Nadja were quite busy pleasuring her in the guesthouse.

So, yet again, I was the only one not getting any, but I could rely on my sweetheart to make up for that in the night.

Mark

One could say I slept very well that night, mainly because I was knackered. After going three rounds with Regina, the rest of the girls gave me barely enough time to recover. Of course I had taken a shower, because Regina would never miss an opportunity to let her visitor in through the backdoor, but once I was cleaned up, their competitiveness kicked in and they decided to find out, just how long they could keep me hard, even after I nutted. More than three hours of continuous blowjobs later, they had their answer and my lights had gone out.

The next day, however was promising to be exciting for entirely different reasons. Since Jenny had held up her end of the bargain during the big picture exchange in February, I had promised her another joyride in Nadja’s car and it was time to keep that promise.

But even I had not expected it to become that exciting.

Jenny’s third race weekend of the season was coming up, and that meant her favorite designer and engineer was coming to town. It also had the added benefit that Femke was going to get a delivery of fresh clothing, which was why she had been able to come with us from Oslo without the need for a stop-over in Groningen.

Jonjo arrived by no means empty handed. Of course he had two large bags with Femke’s stuff in the car, but what caused some excitement was what he was towing behind it – a trailer with the most ridiculous car that we had ever seen. It took me a while to realize what it was.

I had to go back seven years in my memory, all the way to that vacation Lydia, Meri and I had taken on John’s estate in the Caribbean after the fateful events at the 1992 Olympics in Barcelona. Back then I had been the only one with one of the then still newfangled and brick-sized mobile phones and Jonjo – still early into his college years – had told me he wanted to build a Trabant car with a motorcycle engine.

Well, by the look of it he had done just that. Jenny, having a morning splash in the heated water of the pool was of course approaching on a direct vector to the peculiar arrival, but hit an obstacle in the form of Nadja, who insisted that she get toweled dry and clothed first. It was late March after all.

Not wanting to miss any of the action, Jenny broke her standing record of just how quickly she could towel herself and get dressed, although the latter was debatable, as she had literally just thrown on her pants and T-shirt, with the underwear still abandoned at the pool.

Once the car was off the trailer, we got to see the contraption in all its carbon fiber glory, a clear indication that it was not in original spec. Ordinary Trabants had body panels made of plastic.

“You really did it,” I half asked, half stated. “You put a bloody bike engine in a Trabant?”

“Anyone can do that, man,” Jonjo replied with a grin full of teeth. “This one has two of them in it.”

“Say what?” Nadja chipped in and I saw her eyes light up. Jenny wasn’t the only one around here who could get very excited about a fast car.