The Racer's Chronicles Book I: Junior Formulae
Chapter 8: A Happy New Year?

Copyright© 2015 by The Slim Rhino

Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 8: A Happy New Year? - The teenagers Mark and Jenny have never met in person, but they share a dream - driving a Formula One car one day. Life becomes interesting when Mark leaves sunny California for Europe and his guardian turns out to be Jenny's mother.

Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   Ma/ft   mt/Fa   Fa/Fa   Fa/ft   Teenagers   Consensual   Romantic   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Celebrity   Sports   Incest   Mother   Son   Daughter   First   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Petting   Sex Toys   Double Penetration   School   Nudism  

Some people have asked me, how my fictional results fit in with reality. The results are genuine in so far as I select two people from the real historic results to be substituted by Mark and Jenny before each season. All others remain historically accurate, so yes, Nico Rosberg did really score the results described in the last chapters. For those interested, in the partial 2002 season Mark replaced the real-life Tino Lienemann and Jenny's results were taken from Sebastian Riedel. I'm of course not spoiling whose results they'll score in 2003.

Christmas had been a quiet affair. Germans call it the 'holiday of contemplation' for a reason. Presents are given out on the evening of the 24th in Germany and that evening, called Heiligabend (holy evening) is actually the main event of the festivity in Germany. The 25th and 26th are usually spent visiting family or friends.

We had invited the team members and their families for a little private celebration on the 26th. The weather was very un-Christmas-like with mild temperatures of 15 degrees centigrade, but it allowed us to have the party outside in a large tent that Regina had borrowed from the school.

Team Eurospeedway Drivers Academy was really a budget operation. We had Peter, who was not very subtle about how much he liked seeing Regina again. Our five mechanics and their wives had come and Bernd, our race engineer. That was the entire full-time team, at least the Formula-BMW division. The new Formula 3 team was still being put together. It was a nice evening with us being happy about our first podium and when I was asked to say a few words, I thanked them for their hard work and promised them that we would score our first win the next year, which was well received.

Peter also said a few words about the team's future, announcing that with the help of my father's sponsorship deal and some logistic help from Peter Mücke, we were about to expand and diversify the team's activities. We would not run a 2002 car in the 2003 season, concentrating on the two 2003 cars for Jenny and me. The Formula 3 team would run a single car, as sadly, Marko, our driver who had crashed in the fall would not be coming back. His injuries had healed, but he'd never gotten over the mental part of it and stopped racing.

Depending on how Jenny and I did in the upcoming season, he was planning to promote one or both of us to a Formula Renault 2000 European season in 2004. The mood was very upbeat when Peter had finished his speech. Everybody felt that we were really moving forward.

Of course that was all secondary when I held my crying mother in my arms the next day, seeing dad's car disappear into the distance.

"What happened mom?"

"We're getting a divorce," she said and started crying even harder. I was dumbstruck. And I immediately felt like an asshole. I should never have agreed to that weird-ass agreement. Now it had destroyed the marriage of my parents.

"Why?" I asked, trying to hide my own thoughts for the moment.

"That's perhaps something you should discuss with your father," Regina stepped in and I was surprised how business-like her voice sounded. She'd always been good for a joke and teasing me a lot, but having gone through a divorce herself, all the humor was gone from her demeanor.

Regina brought mom into the house and Jenny took my hand and led me away towards the guest house. We were both shell-shocked.

It was 4am and I was yawning, having had practically no sleep during the night. Considering how close Berlin was geographically, it was not the easiest place to get into if you had no car. Sure there was a direct train to Berlin, even calling at Potsdamer Platz station, just five minutes from dad's Berlin office, but it was a commuter train, which meant it was stopping at practically every village along the way. The ride that took no longer than forty-five to sixty minutes in a car, would take almost two and a half hours. But I didn't care, I wanted answers.

The ride dragged on and on and on. I could see where Germans got that image of being humorless from. You haven't seen miserable looking people until you've sat in a German commuter train at five in the morning. When I finally got off the train it was half past six and it was still dark outside.

Dad's business was fairly big, but among the impressive glass palaces and high rise office buildings at Potsdamer Platz, his office building looked humble at best, even though it had six floors. Shivering slightly I remembered that this posh looking area had been the so-called no man's land just fifteen years before – an area just behind the wall, chock-full of land mines and spring-gun installations to kill any East German daring to try and leave for the western part of the city.

But right now I had a completely different type of land mine to contend with. By now Regina would most likely have found my note, telling her and mom where I was. It was still early morning, but we had planned to keep up our rigorous daily regime of morning workouts. I guess I was becoming a bit more German in that regard. I would never have been that diligent if left to my own devices back in Pasadena.

Another thing different from our home was that many Germans, especially in the East tended to start their day relatively early. A programmer who starts at 6am and leaves at 3:30pm is not something you see very often in America, but apparently the Germans were different in that regard as many offices were already lit despite the fact that it wasn't even seven in the morning yet.

The receptionist in the lobby gave me a quizzical look when I stated my name and intention, but eventually it dawned on her that I had the same surname as the CEO, who just happened to be in Berlin that week. She didn't really know what to do and called one of the security officers and it happened to be an older colleague who had met me in October when I had visited dad's office for a day. He just smiled and told her to give me the key to dad's temporary office. Apparently the old man was not expected to arrive before eight.

One good thing about being the CEO's offspring was that I got my own account in the company's intranet. It was little more than an intern's account, but it authorized me on the proxy. I had more than an hour to kill and I wanted to spend it doing something useful.

Nobody batted an eye when a fourteen year old kid entered dad's office. First of all, the sixth floor was the management floor and many of the suits didn't share their foot soldiers' predilection for an early start to the day and the two secretaries who were already there, knew me from my October visit. A middle aged lady, the personal assistant of the German head-honcho even brought me orange juice.

I fired up the computer on dad's desk and logged into my account. Calling up the ADAC Formula-BMW website, I could see that Peter Mücke was running a three car operation; so did Team Rosberg, Keke's team who had won the title with his son the year before. We were certainly not lacking in competition.

There were two names that caught my attention. One was a rookie called Sebastian Vettel, who was running for Eifelland Racing. That guy had been a pain in the ass in my last complete karting season. If he was half as good as he was in karting, he would be one to watch. Another name was Natacha Gachnang, a Swiss Lady, whose name I knew from karting as well. The formidable Cyndie Allemann and Natacha had completely humiliated the males of the species in the 1999 Swiss junior karting championship, just as Jenny and Cyndie had done the year before on the European stage.

In terms of venues we were in for quite a variety. We'd be running as a support to DTM again, which meant in addition to Spielberg and Zandvoort we'd get a third abroad race at Adria Raceway in Italy. All other races were in Germany, and as had been a long-time tradition in DTM, the season kicked off in Hockenheim, using the full track and ended in Hockenheim using the short track variant. In between were no less than three weekends on the Nürburgring, our home race on the Eurospeedway and on the Norisring in Nuremberg. Surprisingly, state-of-the-art tracks like Sachsenring and Oschersleben were not used. All in all we'd be running ten weekends for a total of twenty races.

By the time I had collected all the information I needed, it was ten past eight and I waited for the old man to arrive. It wasn't a long wait. He stopped momentarily when he saw that his office chair was already occupied, but then he grabbed one of the visitor chairs and sat down across the desk from me with a sigh. His assistant came in with a mug of coffee and he asked her that we not be disturbed.

"So, dad, wanna explain to me why mom was completely devastated last night and you just tucked tail and ran?" I asked when the door was closed.

"It's the best solution, son," he said. "Yes, your mother is hurt right now, and don't think it is a decision I've made willy-nilly. We didn't separate in anger and your mom and I will always be special to each other, but that will only happen if I let her go."

"Okay, I'm only fourteen, so maybe I don't understand why you think you'll make mom happy by hurting her, but frankly dad, that sounds like grade A bullshit to me. If this has to do with the fact that mom and I had sex, may I remind you that it was you and mom who dumped that shit on me? I've always loved mom, probably more than a son should, but it certainly wasn't my idea to share that love in a physical way."

I was surprised to see a tear running down dad's face. He was normally a man who kept his emotions well hidden. Seeing him this vulnerable was an entirely new experience and one that I didn't particularly cared for to be honest.

"One thing I can tell you is that nothing of this is your fault," he said, shaking his head. "Even before the medication started messing me up, the topic of what happened and didn't happen in the bedroom had always been a problem. It's strange telling this to my son, but you're old enough to know. Your mother has always been, let's say, very active in sexual matters and you know where I come from."

"You can't always hide behind the fact that grandma and grandpa are prudes," I insisted. "And even if you weren't fully compatible in bed, mom has always been happy with her marriage, in fact she told me as much in August. I refuse to believe that your whole marriage just hinges on what happens or doesn't between the sheets."

"No it doesn't," he agreed. "Our marriage has always been a happy one, but the truth is, it was despite the problems we had in intimate matters. It is testament to your mother's character that she was never unfaithful, despite the fact that I couldn't satisfy her intimate needs. As long as I could at least do my marital duties, the good aspects of our marriage masked the deficits. But now I'm all but dysfunctional and your mother put up with it for five years, but it started to get bad. We never used to fight, but we've done so with increasing frequency since I was diagnosed."

"But I thought that weird-ass agreement of ours should correct that. It has taken me quite a bit to break that taboo and I can count my lucky stars that I have a girlfriend as understanding as Jenny. Was that all for nothing?"

"No it wasn't," dad insisted. "Without your help our marriage would have ended with a big messy fight. What you don't know is, had you refused your mother in August she would have looked for someone else to help her. She didn't say as much, but I've known her long enough. She was just short of snapping."

"I still don't understand what you want to achieve by getting a divorce now," I said.

"The best thing about our marriage has always been that we've been best friends. That can survive without a marriage. If I set your mother free to look for someone else without feeling guilty for breaking her marriage vows, we can continue to be best friends. Yes, she's badly hurt now and I'm happy she has you at the moment, but once she's starting to heal, we'll go back to being best friends. At least that's what I'm hoping for."

"I can't say I agree with you, but then, I'm only fourteen and Jenny is my first ever girlfriend," I said. "But I dare say I can understand what you say. But it didn't look like you told mom all that."

He hung his head and shook it. "No I didn't. I didn't really get the time to do so. I couldn't really tell her about the divorce before leaving America. She would have stayed behind and perhaps done something stupid. I told her on the way down to Senftenberg, but she broke down so badly, I didn't even get a chance to try and explain."

"I hope you're not surprised, dad," I snorted sarcastically. "If nothing else, your timing sucks, and frankly, I find it a bit disconcerting how much you relied on me cleaning up the mess you made. I bet you were hoping that I calmed mom down, so you can explain your reasons on the way back to Pasadena."

He nodded in shame.

"Maybe it sounds preposterous, dad, but even I could have thought of a better way to handle it. Okay, I will help you and I guess mom will understand sooner or later. But you owe her a big apology and you better make this plan work."

"Thank you, son. I know I'm looking like an idiot right now, but I think it is for the best. Neither of you will have to fear anything. I'll pay alimony of course and not the minimum either. And our deal about your career stays intact as well. As I said, I don't want to leave your lives, merely the circumstances need to change."

"This isn't about money, dad," I said, shaking my head in disbelief.

"No of course not. But I don't want you or your mother to have fears for your existence on top of it. You both have enough to deal with right now. I'm really sorry that it has to happen, but I hope in a few months we can all agree that it was the right thing to do."

"From your lips to god's ears, dad, because right now I'm not fully convinced yet."

We had talked for almost three hours. I didn't really agree with his reasons, but I hoped his strange reasoning would prove true. I left his office not knowing what to expect. At least I didn't have to go home on that ridiculous train as dad called and paid for a taxi to take me to Senftenberg. The taxi driver was happy as a clam at high tide. The ride was much more lucrative than the short rides across the city he normally had to do.

Back in Senftenberg I found the three women in the living room and I asked mom to get a jacket as we would be going for a lengthy walk. I offered her my arm and we walked along our normal jogging track through the forest. It turned out to be a very lengthy walk, two hours in fact. To my surprise mom did actually understand dad's reasoning and instead of being angry with him, she felt guilty for having broken down so badly that he didn't get a chance to explain himself.

Resigning myself to the fact that I simply must be too young to make sense of this malarkey, we continued talking about the situation.

"Was it really that bad, mom? Seriously, I have trouble believing that a marriage as healthy as yours would be threatened by something as banal as sex."

"Mark, I'm thirty-four. I may not be a fourteen year old anymore, who wants to have sex every day, but that doesn't mean I don't need it anymore. You are lucky; you have Jenny and me, so you are certainly not spoiled for choice, but I wasn't. Sex deprivation is as bad for a woman as it is for a man and doing it yourself can only help you so much. Yes, you can live with it, just as you could live with only a single meal each day."

"Was dad right? Would you really have cheated on him sooner or later."

To my surprise she didn't answer. Instead she just hung her head in shame and a single tear ran down her cheek. "Mark, how long would you stay with a team that can't give you a competitive racing car for years, no matter how well you get along with the team members?"

That was the moment it clicked. "I'd be looking for a competitive team, but try to stay friends with them," I said when the proverbial penny dropped.

Mom nodded.

"But if this is all so obvious to dad and you, why did you break down like that?" I asked.

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