In the Long Run
Copyright© 2024 by The Horse With No Name
Chapter 78: Nadja’s Debut
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 78: Nadja’s Debut - 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 Anal Sex Double Penetration Exhibitionism First Massage Oral Sex Pegging Petting Nudism
Mark
Iceland was not exactly a nation known for great cyclists, so Nadja won both the time trial and Icelandic road race championships almost by default. In fact we were rather surprised they even had national championship races in the first place. In a field mostly made up of amateurs, Nadja actually had to hold back for fear of humiliating her opponents. One couldn’t really expect a highly competitive field of athletes in a nation that only had 300.000 inhabitants to begin with.
That did of course not prevent her from claiming ‘the big prize’ and both Mario and I were taken to the task of double-teaming her as soon as she had arrived back home.
Femke won yet another Dutch time trial championship too, but she had to make do with a congratulatory email, as she stayed back in the Netherlands. It was the height of the summer season and she didn’t really have the time to visit us. That didn’t stop her from recording a rather raunchy video of herself and emailing it to me.
Our gang was mostly scattered. Lydia was in Switzerland doing altitude units, Meri was in Berlin for a week, attending courses, Nadja was trying to un-sore her butt in time for the 24h race at the Nürburgring and Jenny had left for a race weekend in Bavaria, accompanied by Meri and Jonjo. Essentially, it was only Regina, Nadja, myself and Feli left back at home. At least Nadja and I got to get reacquainted with our own daughter.
It was a good thing that Nadja didn’t suffer from an over-sized ego, because Feli kept asking for ‘mama’ and we both knew she meant Jenny. I was convinced that some women would probably have freaked out at the thought of being called ‘auntie’ by a child that they had actually given birth to. Nadja and I were not really bothered by it.
Okay, once in a while we had doubts whether or not we had been remiss in our roles as parents, but if the pediatrician’s verdict was anything to go by, Feli was a perfectly healthy child, even slightly ahead in her development. We didn’t really mind that Jenny had more or less ‘stolen’ Nadja’s role as the mother. We both knew how desperately she had wished to have a sibling and if there was one thing nobody could accuse Jenny of, it was doing a sloppy job.
In fact, with so many people around, Feli had quite a few ‘aunties’, which was helpful with all the traveling we were engaged in. The little one didn’t really care if it was Meri, Regina, Lydia, Nadja or even Bea watching over her. They were all ‘auntie’ and she was blissfully happy with it.
Ian
Late June arrived and I had yet another charter from our favorite customers.
Mark’s entourage was somewhat smaller than I had grown used to lately. Lydia was somewhere in South America doing heat training, little Jenny was away on a race weekend, and Meri and Regina had stayed back home to look after their small child. As a result I only had Nadja and Mark in the back of the plane, which meant we could use the PC-12.
That didn’t deter Ira from serving as a topless flight attendant. We hardly ever did these types of flights anymore, but she did it just for the fun of it whenever we flew Mark and his folks, as long as little Jenny wasn’t with them. The fact that the passengers didn’t wear shirts either was just one of the quirks of Mark’s entourage.
The PC-12 was a versatile machine, so I could deliver them to a small airfield near the Nürburgring, saving them the long drive from Cologne-Bonn airport. Unlike during the test earlier in the year I would not be able to stay as I was needed back home. I did, however, leave Ira with them. She had received an invitation from the team and with her new-found interest in race cars I was not going to deny her the opportunity to experience Nadja’s first 24h race as a guest in the pit garage.
She kissed me goodbye as they left the plane. I started to prepare for the flight back to Emden.
Mark
To say that the twenty-four hours of the Nürburgring were a big event was putting it mildly. Even on qualification day the track was packed and they estimated about 250.000 visitors around the track with close to 300.000 expected for Saturday and Sunday.
There were two qualifying sessions – one in the afternoon and one in the late evening when it was getting dark. Each driver in a team had to post at least one timed lap in each session. Nadja’s team mate was Ronny Melkus, just like last year. He was the grandson of the man who had designed the original Melkus RS1000. The third driver was a french guy who had also been nominated as a reserve driver on both BMW M5s of the team. If any of the six main drivers on the M5s would fall ill over the next three days, Nadja and Ronny would have to do the whole twenty-four hours between the two of them.
Nadja was the first to go out and the crowd went wild seeing her exotic car. The announcer waxed lyrical about seeing for the first time the only race car East Germany had ever built and I was sure most of the people had not even known that East Germany had built anything but drab Trabants and Wartburgs.
The crowd at the Nürburgring remembered Nadja’s outings in Jonjo’s Franken-Trabbi last year and they also recognized Nadja’s name. The place erupted when she left the pitlane. There went any hope for the Zakspeed team that their Chrysler Viper GTS-R would be the fan’s favorite like last year. The 600 horse power beast was the favorite to win again this year, but the fans had definitely decided they liked the ultra-low Melkus the best.
The team did well with all three drivers setting competitive times. The French driver, who we called Gee, because his real first and surname were unpronounceable for anyone but actual French people, posted the best lap in both sessions, which was enough to start eleventh. That was definitely not bad for a car that competed for the first time. The team’s two BMWs sat forth and fifth on the starting grid behind the Viper and two of the new Porsche 996 GT3.
I didn’t understand at first why the new Porsche cars actually garnered some boos. Jonjo explained that their engines were water-cooled, which for hardcore Porsche fans was the worst kind of blasphemy.
The team worked into the wee hours in the morning, checking and rechecking everything to make sure the car would survive the torture of racing for twenty-four hours.
Nadja
Waiting was the hardest part. The normal VLN races were only four to six hours long and started at noon, but the 24h race would not start until four in the afternoon, and it was even longer before I would get to race myself. We had decided to let Gee do the start as he had the most experience. He already had done several twenty-four hour races before.
Not all 220 cars would be starting at once. The field was split into three groups who started a few minutes apart, but that still meant that over sixty cars in a group would be trying to get to the first corner the quickest.
We actually had a unique problem. The Melkus was only a little over one meter in height. Drivers in large cars, especially in the Viper with its massive hood, had problems seeing us when they followed close or if we were closing in behind them. That could spell massive trouble when starting to lap slower cars. With starting group three starting four minutes behind our first group, and the cars in group three being the slowest to begin with, we would be starting to lap those by the end of lap three at the latest.
To make sure we wouldn’t be overlooked, the team decided to spray paint the back of the rear wing and the front splitter in a bright yellow, reflecting color overnight. That meant we added about half a kilo of additional weight, but now that our car was effectively wearing a high visibility jacket, we hoped our competitors would now not miss our little flounder approaching. Since our car was so low, the fans had nicknamed it Flunder, the German name of the ubiquitous flatfish.
Regina
Good grief, poor Nadja was nervous. As an international athlete she was used to giving interviews, but I had never seen her this fidgety. And although that interview was done on the starting grid, she wouldn’t even get to drive yet, as her French team mate would do the first fourteen to sixteen laps, which meant she had another two hours to be utterly nervous.
Jenny had of course been miffed that of all the weekends in the year, this one was a race weekend for her. The only saving grace was that it was held in Emden. It had traditionally been the season opener in late January, because it was an indoor race, but they had had to move it this year as the track had been renovated over the winter and therefore not been available at its usual date. At least she didn’t have to go far to auntie Bea’s place where she could then watch at least most of the race.
She would at least not miss the start as her Saturday race was already over. And boy was she miffed even more. Jenny had never lost a race in Emden in six years, until that day. Being a proper racing driver she did of course have an excuse at hand, blaming her second place finish on the fact that uncle Jonjo was needed at the Nürburgring and could therefore not accompany her.
Due to its length, the Nordschleife was of course unique. Due to Jenny I had seen the odd F1 race here or there, or more precisely, been forced to do so by our wayward daughter. The formation lap usually took two to four minutes. Well, on that track it took twenty minutes. We could definitely see the wisdom behind the team’s decision to paint some parts of the car bright yellow. That little car was very hard to spot among the other much bigger cars.
The start looked like utter pandemonium with something like sixty or seventy cars all hurtling down the start-finish straight, but miraculously they all made it through the first corner. I guessed if a race was supposed to go for an entire day, it made little sense to try and win it in the first corner.
I heard Meri chuckle and I immediately understood why. Jenny had briefed us to look out for ‘the car with the long snout’, which Meri kept calling a Dodge Viper, although the commentators on TV seemed to insist on calling it a Chrysler Viper. What did I know about cars? Perhaps they were both right.
Said Viper though had had a rather bad start and lost several places and was now directly in front of the little Melkus. It was a comical picture. It looked like a Chihuahua harassing a Great Dane.
Markus
Ira and I had no idea who Gee was. We had both never heard of him, but there was no doubt that he knew what he was doing. For the first three laps he had even managed to keep up with the Viper to a degree. Even by the end of his first stint he was still only twenty seconds behind it and he pitted in tenth place.
In comparison to other racing series, pitstops in this race were relatively sedate. Depending on the length of the stint, usually seven or eight laps, the car had to be stationary for a certain amount of time, so nobody needed to rush the tire changes. In fact the team had even time to check the wear on the brake disks and brake pads.
“Every six hours,” one of the mechanics told Jonjo, who was standing next to us. Jonjo swore under his breath.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
“We had hoped the pads would last eight hours, man. That would have saved us two minutes by changing them only twice.”
“You are going to change the brake pads during the race, and in two minutes?” Ira asked, astounded by that information.
Jonjo indicated us to follow him to the back of the garage. On a workbench we saw several stacks of different brake pads.
“We’ve changed them after every qualifying stint. That way we could break several sets in. You don’t want to go out there on completely new brake pads, man.”
“When I took the Merc to the garage, they needed two days to service my brakes,” Ira said with a chuckle.
“Yeah, but yours don’t cost a few thousand bucks a set, man,” Jonjo answered with amusement. “The changing itself is done in a minute or so. We lose most of the time because we have to push the car into the garage. We are not allowed to do it outside.”
“Wow,” Ira said.
We saw Nadja sitting in a corner at the back of the garage. She gave us a nervous smile, but we didn’t approach her. She had asked us to leave her alone with her frazzled nerves until she had her first stints under the belt.
I could understand it. She wasn’t just any ol’ driver out there. There were several former Formula 1 drivers in the field, touring car and sports car aces from around the world, but Nadja was definitely the only one who had won a medal at Olympic games, and her two outings last year had created a certain expectation. If she would botch it, it would definitely be in the news the next day, and not in a good way.
Ira and I watched the proceedings, but otherwise tried to stay out of the way of everybody. With so many cars in the field, each garage was shared by up to six different cars, so there was always something going on.
Finally, at six in the evening, it was time for Nadja’s first outing. As nervous as she had been all day, as soon as she had put her helmet on, the nervousness was gone. She studied the timing screen one last time and walked out onto the tarmac, where Gee had just arrived for the car’s second pitstop.
Despite its ridiculously low roof-line getting in and out of the car was surprisingly easy. The original RS1000 had been designed with gull-wing doors, a feature that Jonjo had of course kept for this race prepared replica of it.
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