The Racer's Chronicles - Junior Formulae
Copyright© 2026 by The Horse With No Name
Chapter 3: Get A Room!
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 3: Get A Room! - Jenny and Matt have been in love with each other since they were eight, despite the fact that they were separated by an entire ocean and have never met each other in person before. Both share one dream - they want to race in Formula 1 one day, preferably together. Now that they are fourteen, it is time to overcome the separation and start their way together.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Humor School Sports First Massage Masturbation Oral Sex Petting
There were sixty minutes between the end of qualifying and the roll-out onto the starting grid. Since nearly two-hundred cars were way too many to fit on the starting grid, the field would be split into three groups, which started separately, three minutes apart. Normally the Manta had always started as one of the front running cars of the last group, but Jenny’s stunning qualifying laps had propelled it to the back of group two for the first time.
One would have thought things would be somewhat sedate between qualifying and race, but the opposite was the case. Jenny had come back and stopped inch-perfectly in front of my lollipop sign, which was basically just a round sign on a stick with the word STOP written on it. If I flipped it, it showed GO! in green. Thankfully I was spared the agony of mooning over the love of my young life, because we had to push the car into the garage for the pre-race check.
“Jenny, in the trailer for the briefing please,” Olaf called out and she acknowledged his order with a nod.
“Acki, the usual checks, and we put in the brake pads from the last stint yesterday,” came the next order in a rather lengthy list. Since the team looked well choreographed, I got out of the way, trying to blend into the background near the timing screens.
The briefing seemed to be an extensive one as the drivers came back with only ten minutes to go before the roll-out. In an amazing feat of choreographed workmanship, the mechanics had checked all major engine components, changed all break pads, changed the gearbox and put the tires on - all that in less than forty-five minutes. Beckmann Motorsports was an idealistic, just-for-the-fun kind of operation, but when it came to their operations, they could mix it with the best. Jenny couldn’t have asked for a better team for her debut. There was no pressure to win, after all the car was older than Jenny and I, but at the same time she had an extremely professional crew at her disposal.
“Jörg, take over for Enrique for a moment,” Olaf announced and one lanky mechanic gave him a nod and pushed on his helmet. He gave me a thumbs-up when I handed the lollipop to him. I followed Olaf when he indicated that I should do so. We ended up in a little caravan that served as their ‘team trailer’. He told me to sit down and put a bottle of mineral water down in front of me, and for the first time in four hours I could actually take the helmet off.
“First of all, you’re doing a great job out there,” Olaf praised me.
“Thank you,” I replied. “But lowering and raising a sign on a stick is not exactly that hard.”
“It is when you’re mooning over a girl you’ve waited six years to meet finally. I’ll be honest with you, I wouldn’t have been able to stay sane in such a situation.”
I sighed. “Frankly, I would have loved nothing more to just tell her, but I’m worried she’d be too excited to keep up her composure and concentration. I don’t want to introduce myself by wrecking her focus on the job at hand.”
“A very mature approach for someone so young,” Olaf replied with honest admiration in his voice.
“I had to mature in a darn hurry,” I admitted. “Last year I had a kart race here in Germany. I was so distracted by trying to find out if Jenny had come to watch, I ended up causing a bad shunt and a guy walked away from it with a broken arm. I wouldn’t want to put her in a position like that.”
“The best mistakes are the ones we learn from,” he told me. “Anyway, I’ve come up with a plan to make things a bit easier for you. For the first two hours of the race Jenny will be in the garage of her usual team, the ones with the insane Benz. I’ll do the start and the first stint, Peter the second. I told her to be back when Peter is on his in-lap. That’s when Jörg will take over and you discreetly slink out the back. Aren’t you signed up to that other team too? Maybe you can pay them a visit once Jenny has returned from there.”
“Not a bad idea,” I agreed.
“By the way, I would like to ask something of you too,” he told me. “Some of the folks you live with will do the c-license course in two weeks. I’ve already tested the waters with the DMSB folks. They see no reason why you should not get the same dispensation, considering you came second in the world championships last year. In fact you’d take a big problem off their hands.”
“Let me guess, they’re getting the flak for potential favoritism, because Jenny is the only one so far?” I suspected.
“Almost,” Olaf replied. “It’s mainly that they’re accused of German bias. So you as an American and some other girl - Cyndie something - would nix those accusations. That other girl is from Switzerland, I believe.”
“Yep, she is,” I confirmed and couldn’t hide my amusement. “She and Jenny are tied on points in the European championship after the first race last weekend. She should even be whizzing about here somewhere. Jenny invited her to watch the race. When she did that, she didn’t even know yet that she would be in it herself.”
Olaf chuckled as well. “Yeah, things developed quite quickly the last few days. Anyway, back to my request. Jenny will do this race and the next one on May 26th. I don’t think anyone believes she won’t have the permit by then, so I’ll be out of a driver for the rest of the season.”
“I thought your pro-driver would come back?”
“So did I,” Olaf admitted. “But things are changing quickly lately. Last year the DTM was relaunched, and Volker has become head of Motorsports for Opel. He simply doesn’t have the time right now to go racing one or two times a month.”
“Well, if it works out with the license and the Formula-BMW dates, I’d be happy to step in,” I told him.
“There’s only one weekend where there is both Formula-BMW and VLN, and that’s in late September, when they are a support race for VLN right here on the Nürburgring.”
“Guess I’ll be a bit busy that weekend,” I said with a grin and held out my hand. “I’ll have to see how it works out with school and everything, but if there’s a way, you can count on me.”
“Brilliant,” Olaf said and shook my hand.
“I think that’s your cue to beat a discreet exit,” Jörg told me and took the lollipop from me. “Great work on the first two stints.”
“Thanks,” I told him and crossed the garage. I made a detour around several team trucks to avoid crossing paths with Jenny. Even if I was still wearing my helmet, I didn’t want to have her wonder why one of her current team’s people was wandering around at the back of the pit garages.
I checked the numbers again, making sure that I wasn’t going to barge into the wrong garage. I waited until the Manta had left the pit lane. There were only three cars that were easily identifiable without seeing them. There was a Viper GTS-R, currently leading the race. The sound of a naturally aspirated 8 liter V10 was hard to miss, as was the sound of the Judd-powered Benz. If your ears were bleeding, it had just passed by. The third car was the Manta. It was not necessarily identifiable by engine noise, but the whooping and cheering of the fans whenever it flew by.
When the ruckus in the grandstands had died down, I carefully opened the door and I scanned the room. Seeing that Jenny seemed to be nowhere around, I slipped in and took off my helmet. Pulling the balaclava off my head, I breathed a sigh of relief. It had become quite hot under it.
“Fuckin’ hell, Matt?” one man yelled and I saw a grin full of teeth. I hadn’t seen Jonjo for years. He had worked on my karts in my early years, but ever since he had left for the Netherlands five years ago, contact had mostly been lost.
“Hey uncle Jonjo,” I replied and he grabbed me in hefty man hug.
“What are you doing here, man? Jenny didn’t say nuffin’ that you came over.”
“That’s because she doesn’t know yet,” I told him with a grin. “She’ll have to wait until the end of her stint to find out who her lollipop man has been all day.”
“Sneaky bugger,” he said with another of his trademark toothy grins. Then he turned around and yelled across the garage. “Peter, Nadja, look who the cat dragged in, man.”
The two-person target audience of his holler came walking over and a rather sweaty, but extremely cute woman in a racing overall hugged me tightly.
“Hi Matt,” she said. “Finally.”
“Welcome,” a middle-aged tall man said and held out his hand. “I’m Peter, your future boss. Seems you’ve arrived early.”
“You could say that,” I agreed. “The last four days have thrown all planning we had done for the last two years. I’m not complaining, mind you.”
“And you’ve definitely spent a lot of time learning German,” Peter said approvingly. “I’ve never heard an American or an Englishman with so little an accent.”