The Racer's Chronicles Book I: Junior Formulae
Chapter 11: Jenny Superstar

Copyright© 2015 by The Slim Rhino

Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 11: Jenny Superstar - 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  

The following days mom only had to cook for about twenty-five people as PM's team and ours were the only ones to continue testing, yet she barely came out of the truck's kitchen for the rest of the two days. It was her loss; she certainly missed something by not seeing our test race.

Jenny surprised us all by claiming pole. No matter how often people told me I was a big talent, when it came to hooking up the three bells exactly when it counted, Jenny had the advantage on me. I only managed third behind Tino Lienemann, one of Peter Mücke's guys. Of course Aki Rask in our third car was a tad disadvantaged, more precisely by about ten horses under the hood, and the aerodynamics of the 2003 chassis were slightly more refined than the 2002 model he was driving.

I had asked the mechanics to nail the trusty old 2001 clutch into my car again and I made a very good start start, but so did my better half and we soon found ourselves fighting again with Peter Mücke's guys having the best seats for watching the spectacle. Jenny and I knew each other's driving styles and fought hard but fair. The downside was, that she knew exactly where I would be trying to overtake and slammed the door shut effortlessly on each of the fifteen laps we were racing.

In the end you could have covered us with a blanket, while PM's first car finished about a second and a half back. He didn't look too pleased, a stark difference to our Peter, whose head would have split in half had the ears not prevented his grin from getting too wide. Mücke Motorsport was bigger than our team, much bigger in fact, but at least in Formula BMW they had their work cut out for them.

His guys were rookies, with all previous Mücke drivers having graduated to Formula 3 or switched to other teams in Formula Renault 2.0, so Jenny and I had a slight advantage due to the races we'd run the year before, but especially in Jenny's case that was more of a theoretic advantage. She had driven a 2001 model and gone straight to this year's 2003 model, which could just as well have been two different makes. Formula BMW was still relatively new, so the cars tended to be very different. The optimal model had not yet been found.

After narrowly beating our team to second in the team standings last year, and wanting to go for the championship this year, PM knew that in the form of our team he would meet some tough competition. If nothing else, he probably knew it after I had topped the lap charts on Wednesday and Jenny had done so on Thursday.

But that didn't mean there were any hard feelings. Formula BMW was hardly Peter Mücke's most important series and after so many years in the business he was realistic enough to know that once he offered to build a strategic partnership between our teams, there was a chance to be beaten by us. Even at fifteen I was realistic enough to know that this wasn't charity on his behalf either.

He seemed to think that I could become one of his DTM drivers and once he and his team would be entering DTM, where a single race weekend could cost as much as a whole Formula BMW season, I wouldn't be surprised if he'd be dismantling the small Formula BMW department and ask our team to be his 'farm team'. I had asked our Peter about that and he thought the same. He didn't give me the impression of being really uncomfortable that prospect as well.

Peter was brutally honest about it. We were a small East German team, from a region where sponsors were nigh-on impossible to come by. He would never have been able to start a Formula 3 program without my arrival, and the subsequent arrival of dad's money. And Peter Mücke was a house-hold name in German domestic racing, which meant, a partnership with him would secure our team's survival whenever Jenny and I would inevitably leave to graduate to a series that was too big for our team.

It was a bit strange to hear that spoken about so openly, but it reminded me yet again that this was more than just fun and games – it was a dog-eat-dog business world. The more it would help Peter if Jenny and I would start posting some serious results. I made a mental note of putting yet more emphasis on my fitness in the little over two weeks that remained until the first race weekend at Hockenheim.


The drive home was long but relaxed. We left the track on Thursday evening, making the most of the night and were already nearing the Spanish-French border in the morning. Having taken the minibus instead of our Benz, Jenny and I lacked our 'mobile love nest', but leave it to our mechanics to find a solution. The two mechanics that had ridden with us on the way down there had hitched a ride with Peter Mücke's team and would come down back to Senftenberg from Berlin by train.

Our Peter had bought a couple of excess blankets from the hotel and once the seats were folded down, we had a make-shift bed in the back of the bus. It lacked the security measures we had in the Benz, and mom certainly wasn't happy about that, but we were riding with the trucks, so the pace was pedestrian enough to make hard breaking maneuvers a rather improbable thing. Still, mom insisted we sit in the one unfolded row of seats, properly wearing our seat belts when we were not sleeping.

When we finally arrived back home late on Saturday evening, I could tell that mom was really relieved about having gotten us back home in one piece. Something told me, we'd be using the Benz again next time.


I was starting to think that Peter was telling on us. How else could our school principal know about my result of the DTM test and Jenny and I topping the two days of Formula BMW testing. He also conveniently omitted that there were only two teams with three drivers each in attendance when he announced our latest exploits for all to hear.

Thankfully our classmates had already noticed how annoyed we were by the constant hero worship and found the singing of our praises more amusing than annoying. Often such things can backfire badly, causing envy or isolating kids if they're put on the proverbial pedestal too often.

The start of April was a real drag. Jenny and I had to catch up on almost two weeks of missed lessons and more than one classmate told us he was happily never getting our fame in exchange for not having to do that sort of catching up several times a year. I just took it as the price to pay for making a profession out of what I really loved.

Our love-life did suffer a bit, to be honest, but considering that up to now Jenny and I had made love nearly every day in all the most appropriate and inappropriate places, a little temporary celibacy was perhaps not the worst thing. It made the few nightly bouts we had a lot more explosive, to the point that Jenny was walking funny for two days, because she had wanted to try it up the rear-end again and we got a little carried away. Our two moms did of course have a field day with that, endlessly teasing us about it. And quite 'unselfishly', both of them did offer me a 'refresher lesson'.


Poking any of our moms in the butt was the least thing on my mind when Regina steered the Benz onto the Autobahn on our way to Hockenheim. During the last few days I had clearly seen that the biggest challenge I was facing was to get past my team mate, that drop-dead gorgeous girl lying next to me in our rolling love-nest in the Benz. Out of the last six training sessions on our home track, she'd beaten me four times. As soon as the temperatures dipped very low or it was raining, Jenny was in a league of her own. I definitely couldn't hold a candle to her in wet conditions. And that was a problem, because the weather forecast for Hockenheim said it would rain during the Saturday race and Friday practice. Sunday was not yet clear, but our 'weather frogs' were inclined to predict rain as well.

I dearly loved her, of course, but when it came to racing, Jenny was an opponent, just as the other almost thirty guys and another girl we were facing. Girls in lower formulae were not too uncommon, in fact with only Jenny and Swiss lady Natacha Gachnang Formula-BMW was a bit short of lady power that year. But I doubted that people were prepared for what was coming. Jenny would certainly not be one of those pretty dolls making up the numbers. She was pretty, alright, but she was also fast, frighteningly fast in fact.


Free practice went exactly as I had feared. It was on-again-off-again in terms of rain and Jenny creamed the lot. As is customary in most German racing series, the season started and ended at Hockenheim. For rounds one and two, now in April, we were running the full track, although that was a bit of a preposterous thing to say, considering what butcher Hermann Tilke had left of the once legendary track. The season finale was on the short, one and a half mile Querspange version of Hockenheim,

Jenny dominated the practice, finishing almost eight tenths of a second quicker than a young rookie called Sebastian Vettel, a fellow fifteen year old. Of course back in the day I had no idea that this young kid, who looked like he did his hair with a hand-grenade, would one day become a multiple Formula One champion. I only managed fourth being beaten to third by Aki Rask, the Mücke driver, who would drive for our team beginning with the Norisring weekend.

Speaking of Mücke drivers. When I went past their garage, I saw an unfamiliar name, but a very familiar face.

"Dominic Jackson?" I asked with amusement, when I saw Richard climb out of his car.

"Actually, Richard was a fake name," he said. "I did a bit of a John Winter and ran under a false name."

"Now there's a story in that," I quipped.

"Well, I had an older brother. He was killed in a Rally-Cross race," Richard/Dominic admitted. "My parents were mortified by my wish to race and forbade it, so I had to run under a fake name."

"Shit," I exclaimed, my amusement gone in a damn hurry.

"What my parents never understood: my brother drove recklessly. He almost killed another guy in that shunt, which he was singularly to blame for. All they saw was losing a son. I'm not Daryl, heck, perhaps his example makes me a lot more responsible a driver than he ever was."

"Sorry to hear that though," I said and he just nodded.

"You can continue calling me Richard though. I've never liked my real name much," he said with a grin.

"How did you end up in PM's team?"

"PM?" Richard asked.

"We call him PM – for Peter Mücke. Our team principal is called Peter as well, so we needed some way to tell them apart without having to recite the whole name every time."

Richard laughed softly. "As for ending up in his team. Remember? It was you who took me to their hospitality tent last year. That was when he dressed you down for goofing off in free practice. Well, long story short, I got a call from him two weeks later. One of his guys had dropped out due to trouble at school and he thought I was good enough to enter without wasting another year in karting."

"Mücke is not the worst place to be in," I told him.

"Unless your girl comes along," he sighed good-naturedly. "Damn, she really blew all of us into the weeds. It's like the karting days all over again."

"Tell me about it," I chuckled. "She's absolutely fantastic in the rain."


Jenny absolutely owned the first qualifying on Friday afternoon. It was cold, it was damp and she loved it, getting pole by half a second from Aki Rask, myself and Tino Lienemann. Our two cars and two of Peter Mücke's locking out the two front rows certainly raised some eyebrows.

Two other stars in the paddock were Regina and mom. There were only three teams who ran hospitality tents – Team Rosberg, Mücke Motorsport and our team. It was an unwritten rule that the big teams would provide free catering to the smaller teams and there was little to guess, who was most popular. Our place was packed throughout the day. That meant more work for the ladies, but especially mom was nearly bursting with pride that people loved her food that much.

Unlike in previous instances, Jenny and I did not sleep in a joint room. Instead we both were roomies to our respective maternal units. Now that things were seriously competitive, we had decided to 'suspend' our relationship for the weekend. We still gave each other a kiss before each session, but as far as more substantial intimacy went, we were both in agreement that it was too hard to separate our love-life from being uncompromising competitors on the track.

 
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