Formula Cum

It was a steamy, lazy afternoon at Silverstone. Tiago Monteiro was reclining in the cockpit of his Jordan, waiting for the pit lane to open so that he could come out and set his Satuday qualification time. He was the first man out, having had a disappointing race last time in France when he retired with a mechanical failure. Tiago tried to relax, put everything off his mind, concentrate on the fast corners he had to surmount. At the entrance to the Jordan garage, one of the pit babes stood upright, holding a large sign with Monteiro's name and the Portuguese flag. Sitting low in his car and right behind her, Tiago had a splendid view of her shapely ass outlined against the blue sky. Between her legs, he could just make out the lips of her vulva protruding in the tight-fitting yellow overalls that were the hallmark uniform of the Jordan girls. Eddie Jordan, his extravagant boss, had always had the talent of recruiting the best pit babes in the paddock. Tiago nonchalantly reached down and started to massage his cock with his thick driver's glove. It felt pleasantly desensitized, lying snug in his fireproof neoprene suit. Monteiro knew he wasn't going to cum. He had complete control over his body, else he wouldn't be a Formula 1 driver. Feeling his pulse rise, he paused just at the right moment when he would be alert enough to get through his flying lap but not too distracted by his throbbing manhood. This, in fact, had not been the first time a driver masturbated to ease his nerves before getting out on the track. It felt great, almost as great as having sex right after a race when the joy of being alive would combine with the numbness of the adrenaline to give one the most wonderful fucking sensations ever.

Tiago's team radio crackled:

"You want her?" it was his boss, Eddie Jordan, speaking as casually as if he was offering his driver one of the team's leased limos that they used for showing off when they went on sponsor tours. "Give me one hell of a time this afternoon, kid, and you sure as ass can have her and I will arrange things myself!"

Tiago was speechless. Still new to the glittering lifestyles of Formula 1 he was not really sure how things worked in here, though he had heard some crazy stories from the older drivers and right now he was starting to believe them.

"Umm..." he tried to formulate his answer but at that moment the lights in the pits turned green and saved him from his predicament. He let out what he hoped to sound like a grunt of assent and revved up his engine.

As his car sneaked out of the pits the hot babe bent her ass over inches away from his helmet, revealing an even more titillating glimpse of her vinyl-covered vagina. Tiago could swear he saw an ear bud clipped to her ear and that she had heard the conversation with his boss that just took place.

Off he was then, out of the pits, gliding over the sizzling asphalt in his warm-up lap, thinking only of the girl who would be waiting for him in the pits providing he set an exceptionally good qualifying time. He knew his chances were slim as he was still an inexperienced novice and Jordan had been sliding to the back of the grid ever since Damon Hill drove for them. Still, his dick had now swollen uncomfortably and pressed hard against the inside wall of his Kevlar cockpit. Monteiro resolved to do his best.

Over the main straight, the huge stands were roaring their support. The thousands of spectators who had come to watch the British GP experienced an almost orgasmic rapture every time a driver crossed the line to set a pole-position qualifying time. This was the true nature of the sport: fast-paced, infuriating and brutal. The gleaming racecars with their streamlined features and erect nose cones had an eerie phallic feel about them – who wouldn't dream of being strapped inside one, thrusting at the straights at some astounding 200mph; penetrating the still air, which condensed behind the spoilers and pressing the pedal to the floor to come first at the end?

Monteiro was thinking only of the girl when he flew over the finish line and the clock started ticking off his fast lap. How tantalizingly her hips had swayed; he imagined reaching up his hand and thrusting it through the vinyl pants and inside her warm little pussy, her moisture dripping down her perfectly shaven cunt. Offhandedly, he slammed the brakes and decelerated over Copse, feeling the monstrous 3.1 G force wobble his swollen dick. A Formula 1 pilot can really think in microseconds, so Tiago was using the tiny intervals between the automated gear shifts, the acceleration, braking and steering to picture the hot girl under him, over him, kneeling at the podium and sucking on his balls as he held on to the trophy and came hard at the exhilarated crowd.

The Becketts chicane came at him out of nowhere and he swerved his Jordan madly, grazing hard over the blue and white banks, feeling the car vibrate around him like an excited schoolgirl who had had her first orgasm. He still kept his perfect racing line though. He couldn't bear the look of disappointment on the girl's face, which would undoubtedly follow if he went wide over a corner or spun out. She was probably watching him on the big screens right now, fingering herself.

Coming out of the Chapel turn and down the Hanger straight Tiago again had some time to relax and new visions of the girl's tanned and glistening body came over his mind. He imagined that the pit babe had become the racetrack herself, and he was flying over her adorable super-magnified tummy, his grooved tires finding maximum grip on her silky skin. Like a giant belly button the Dunlop Bridge zoomed overhead and Tiago had to really restrain himself from shooting his load inside the car, because the vibration from the engine now revving at 17,000 rpm was making the tension in his balls unbearable.

Some green letters flashed quickly on the small LCD screen inside Monteiro's steering wheel. It was the intermediate time measured for the first sector of his lap. He didn't care how fast he was going. He was going to sit inside his car and get himself off to the sight of the spread-legged supermodel babe, pretending that he was watching the other drivers' laps on the monitor. He didn't believe the girl would really fuck him because he knew these chicks operated on very strict contracts, but he might just as well try and ask her out. In any case he had to come soon or he was going to burst!

As he rounded the Club corner, his team radio crackled to life again. It was Eddie:

"Tiago!" he shouted excitedly. "Did you see your own fucking time, kid??? You went inside 30 seconds just now. That's down on Schumacher's time from this morning!" Tiago blinked surprised at this and considered it for a few hundredths of a second before he dived into the Farm chicane at 120mph. He realized he really had been going quite fast. All the fears and apprehension, which accompanied him whenever he set foot in the bright yellow machine, had now dissolved, replaced by his immense lust for the olive-skinned Jordan babe. He wanted to suck her braless nipples, bury his face between her big boobs, run his calloused hands over her quivering clit and fuck her bare on the garage floor, smearing her butt cheeks with axel grease. Jordan's voice again sounded abruptly inside his helmet:

"Sonya is here watching with me. She is getting quite wild, you know!"

Sonya. That was her name! Monteiro felt his cock throb forcefully and he slammed down the accelerator pedal as hard as he could, crossing the second sector timer so fast that he almost skidded out when his right tires connected with hard banks of the Brooklands and Luffield series of turns... Focus now! Get it under control! Yes, he knew he was quick, but speed was not everything in Formula 1, as all experienced drivers would tell you... He steadied his Jordan, never losing the perfect line. Then, with just a few flicks of his wrist he brought it hard and tight over the last wide turn, passing the entry to the pits. He had one more lap to slow down after this one and if he didn't mess anything up Sonya would be waiting for him in there, lying spread-eagled on the spare car, holding out her pussy open for him with her juices flowing out over the aerodynamic nose of the Jordan and the bright sponsor logos...

Engulfed in his fantasy, Tiago didn't notice the erupting grandstands, the unfurled flags, the flashes, the whistles and the red smoke of the tiffozi as he flew toward the finish. Right there, behind the stoplights and the cabins of the competing teams, a riotous swath of yellow overalls and smiling faces exploded as he drove past. He had a glimpse of his engineers, their fists high in the air and his team boss Eddie Jordan saluting him. Next to Eddie (yes, this one was real!) Tiago could see the gorgeous angel Sonya reaching for the zipper of her overalls and flashing her tanned, supple breasts at him for the tiniest instant. Then, he disappeared down the straight, leaving behind the prolonged Doppler squeal of his racecar.

The paparazzi would not have missed that tiny instant too, no doubt. There would probably be a small scandal associated with it and fines would likely be imposed.

Tiago didn't care. He had done it. He had clocked 1 min. 18 sec. and 261 thousandths on his flying lap. This would put him on the front row, maybe even on pole. He knew the team was going to throw a huge party in his honor. But he didn't care about that either.

It took another minute and a half for the helicopter to lift off carrying the two of them to Tiago's hotel. It landed two minutes later, and after one minute more, Tiago and the girl were fully undressed in his room and he was shooting viscous blobs of cum in her face, almost gel-like from his dehydration. After that he had to return to the track for his press conference, but she would be waiting for him to come back and they would fuck the night away, fulfilling his boss's promise before the race day...