NASCAR Heaven

The shiny stock cars rocketed past us at nearly 200 miles per hour, their rubber tires gripping the asphalt as they shot through the first turn at Talladega speedway.

The noise and tremors caused by the NASCAR cars as they passed us caused our perch to shake, even a hundred feet away in the track's infield.

My girlfriend reached a hand out and gripped my shoulder to steady herself atop the roof of the trailer we had parked in the infield. From our spot, the two of us and our small group of friends who came along could see the entire track, watching as the Winston Cup drivers made their circuit of the super speedway asphalt.

Along the backstretch a few moments later, the red No. 8 car belonging to Dale Earnhardt, Jr. pulled out of the long line of cars, and slipped alongside and in front of a competitor, drawing cheers from the appreciative crowd as the driver took the lead.

"Alright Dale! Go, baby, go!" yelled my girlfriend Kelly, who clapped enthusiastically and even jumped up in the air once before remembering where she was.

My face broke into a smile as I watched her. Kelly's favorite driver was, of course, Dale Jr., or just "Junior" to most of his fans. She was decked out in clothes and accessories glorifying Dale Jr., the number 8, and Budweiser.

Though Kelly's tight denim shorts didn't have any such advertisements, she had on a red t-shirt with the Bud logo from Junior's car on the front. She had on a red Dale Jr. wristwatch she picked up at a fast food restaurant, her beer cozy sported the young driver's face, and a red Bud baseball cap sat atop her head, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail through the hole in the back. She even had on red slouch socks which peeked out of her little white tennis shoes and ended a short ways up her slender ankle.

Kelly may have looked like a walking Bud billboard, but she was stunning even in her outfit. Her short denim shorts left little to the imagination, and her well-tanned legs were slender and long. She had her shirt pulled up and tied in front to expose her flat stomach, and her ample C-cup breasts distorted the shirt's logo. The easy smile she wore as she watched her favorite sport topped off the perfect package.

As she turned around to follow Dale Jr.'s lap, her face swept over mine, and she paused, lowering her sunglasses and looking me in the eye.

"Thanks so much for helping me set up this trip, babe," Kelly said, leaning forward and planting a kiss on my lips. "This is so much fun!"

"No problem, hon," I replied. "I knew we'd have a great time."

We sat down in our lawn chairs then, joining the other two couples who had traveled with us to the race in Alabama. Matt and Joanna, who I knew from work, and Tim and Beth, who were Kelly's longtime friends, were all as big NASCAR fans as we were, and jumped at the chance to join us at Talladega this year.

The racing continued on as we drained our cans of Bud, but less than 50 laps into the race an ominous looking storm cloud appeared in the distance behind turn one. As the drivers continued their laps, the cloud moved closer and closer, until finally it started dropping rain on the racetrack.

The red flag came out – NASCAR Winston Cup cars have slick tires, and aren't designed for wet driving – and the race was stopped, with Dale Jr. still in the lead. Kelly, clearly disappointed by the rain delay, sat under her umbrella and sulked. Matt and Joanna, who were big fans of Bill Elliott, got out their red Dodge waterproof pullovers to protect themselves for the rain, and Tim and Beth did the same with their Jeff Gordon DuPont gear.

"Hey guys, we're gonna go scope out the garages again, see if we can spot a driver," Matt finally said, and the four of them filed over to the trailer's ladder. "You want to come along?"

One look at Kelly's despondent face told me she didn't want to go.

"Nah, you guys go ahead, we'll just stick around here," I replied. "We might go inside and take a nap or something."

After our companions left, Kelly looked up at me.

"Actually, a nap does sound like a good idea. Want to go in?" she asked.

"Sure."

So we climbed down the ladder and went inside, both of us kicking off our wet shoes at the doorway before walking over to the bed. Kelly and I laid down on the full-sized mattress, still unmade from the night before, and I flipped on the tiny TV nearby.

"Mmmmmmm," Kelly moaned, as she stretched her arms and legs outward, her fingers laced above her head and her toes pointed straight out within her bright red socks.

She curled up next to me then as I searched for NBC's race coverage; she slipped one arm around my waist, and tossed one of her legs over mine, rubbing her socked feet against my own.

"Hmmmm…I like playing footsie with you," she giggled, and I worked my feet against hers, the cotton of my white and gray ankle socks sliding against the material on her red-clad feet.

Kelly slipped her baseball cap off, and sat it on the nightstand next to her before resting her head on my chest. After a few minutes of listening to the soothing rain, we both started to doze off.

We woke to the sound of jet engines. NASCAR used the noisy contraptions, which had been mounted on trucks, to help dry the asphalt at racetracks when the rain ended. It took about an hour and a half to do an entire track the size of the one at Talladega, but the asphalt had to be completely dry for the cars to race on their slick tires.

I leaned up from the bed and peered out the window behind me to get a glimpse of the track. The jet engine trucks were still making their rounds, and the cars were still lined up on pit road with their waterproof covers on.

I filled Kelly in after she stirred, and told her we still had a while before the race would continue.

"Unggh…" she groaned. "Why did it have to rain today?"

"I'm sorry babe…I know you wanted this weekend to go off without a hitch." I kissed her lightly on the forehead to show some sympathy.

"What are we going to do while we wait?" she asked.

"I dunno, watch TV, I guess," I replied.

I snagged the remote control and turned the volume back up on the TV, and for a few minutes we watched the NASCAR rain delay coverage, which consisted of interviews with drivers and crew chiefs who were also waiting out the rain. Kelly and I snuggled some more, and I started to feel a bit turned on as she ran her hand along my chest absentmindedly.

Our legs intertwined, we continued to play footsie as we watched TV. My stomach muscles tensed up a bit as she made one more pass along my tummy with her hand, and she must have finally noticed the slightly larger bulge in my khaki shorts, because she turned her head back and looked at me with a wicked smile.

"How are you doing, babe?" she asked.

"Ummm…I'm feeling a little horny," I replied sheepishly. "I can't help it, with you wearing that sexy outfit, and us rubbing our feet together, and you playing with my chest."

"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry," Kelly said. "But I've got an idea. We're going to be waiting a while on the race to start up, so why don't we play a game of ‘Junior'?"

"Ohhh, you're bad, babe," I replied, remembering the role-playing session we had a few months earlier in which I pretended to be Dale Jr. and she pretended to be a racing groupie.

"Are you sure you want to do that here, and now?" I asked.

"Oh, yes, Jon…I'm feeling pretty horny myself now."

I sprung up from the bed and crossed the room to the table where I had left my NASCAR cap and my wraparound sunglasses – which looked a lot like Junior's, incidentally – and put them both on as I locked the front door of the trailer to give us privacy. By the time I returned to the bed, Kelly was sitting up at the foot of the bed, her feet touching the floor on her tiptoes and her legs slightly spread. She had put her No. 8 hat on, turned backwards like mine in Junior's trademark fashion, and was sitting there with an expectant look on her face.

I padded over to the bed in my socked feet, looking remarkably like Junior with my mustache and goatee, backwards cap and mirror shades.

"Hey Junior, can I have your autograph?" Kelly drawled in her best race groupie imitation.

"Sure, babe, but you've got to do something for me first," I replied, trying to mimic Dale Jr.'s voice as I leaned toward her.

She wrapped her skinny arms around my neck and kissed me deeply, our tongues slipping into each other's mouths as we felt the passion build between us. Then we split apart, and I straightened back up, standing between her parted knees.

Kelly leaned forward, and ran her hands along my hips and my butt, along my stomach and chest, and then back down to my crotch, where she squeezed my ever-growing erection through my khaki shorts. She unbuttoned my shorts, which were pretty loose to begin with, and they fell to the floor in a bunch around my feet before I stepped out of them and kicked them away.

She went back to work on my dick, then, rubbing on it through my red boxer briefs. I moaned in pleasure as she rubbed my manhood, and I parted my legs slightly as well, one sock-clad foot standing on tiptoes. Then Kelly slipped one hand into my underwear, gripping my erection as she pulled the boxer briefs down slightly.

"Mmmmm, you're so big, Dale," she murmured, as she started stroking the length of my 7-inch cock, which was very wide. "I can barely wrap my fingers around you."

Kelly leaned closer to me, lowering her mouth to my cock and sticking out her tongue. She lapped at the tip for a moment, before moving her hand aside and running her tongue along the length of the shaft. She did that on both sides, and then along the bottom, before wrapping her ruby-red lips around the head of my cock.

"Oh, God, that feels so good, Kelly," I moaned.

She sucked gently on the tip as her hand slipped once again around the shaft, jerking me off a bit faster this time. Then she pulled her mouth away and kept stroking as she moved her head lower, licking my balls voraciously. First she swallowed one, then moved to the other, before taking both in her mouth and sucking noisily while jacking me off.

I leaned my head back in total pleasure as she licked my balls and stroked my shaft, my back arching and my toes curling from the bliss. After a few moments, Kelly moved her mouth up a bit, sliding her lips along the bottom of my cock from the base all the way to the head. Her lips parted then, and she took my entire length into her mouth, sucking gently.

Kelly left one hand wrapped around my dick, gently stroking me as she bobbed her head in and out, while her other hand cupped my swollen balls and her fingertips tickled the sensitive area directly beneath my sack. Her socked feet sought out my own on the floor next to the bed, and rubbed across the tops of them, warming our feet from the friction of cotton rubbing together.

"This feels so good," I moaned, my face tingling from the stimulation. "You like sucking my cock, don't you baby?"

"Mmmmm hmmmmmm," she answered, her mouth stuffed with my cock. She looked up at me with lust-filled eyes as she sucked me off.

My hands sought out her perky breasts, rubbing them through her NASCAR shirt. She moaned around my dick, stimulating me from the vibrations in her mouth.

After a few more moments of bliss, Kelly pulled her mouth away from my crotch, and looked up at me expectantly. She slid back onto the bed, gesturing for me to follow. I climbed up in front of her, and helped her out of her shirt, and then pulled her jean shorts and panties off in one smooth, rough motion, leaving her in just her little red socks.

Kelly spread her legs, and I moved up between them, sliding my rock-hard cock into her waiting pussy. We both moaned in passion as my dick pushed open her lips, filling her completely. I began thrusting in and out slowly, loosening up her tight cunt, stretching the sides with the wide head of my member.

Just then, we heard a roar from outside – the cars had started back up and returned to the track. We shared a look that said neither of us was sure what to do.

I thought for a moment, and then I leaned down next to her ear.

"We should keep going while they finish the race," I said in a low voice, my tone that of a phone sex customer. "We could do it from behind so we can both watch."

"Oooh, that sounds hot, baby," Kelly replied, a mischevious look coming to her face.

We pulled apart and she turned around, opening the blinds on the window at the head of the bed. We peeked out the window, and saw that everyone was training their eyes towards the track, where the cars were now driving slow laps under the caution flag and preparing for the race to re-start.

She gave me a quick peck on the cheek, and then got on her hands and knees at the head of the bed, her face close to the window. She shot a glance at me over her shoulder, and said, "Come on, Junior, why don't you stick that big thing in me?"

I moved behind her, stroking my still-hard cock, and then slid it into her already wet pussy. Kelly moaned loudly as I entered her, and continued as I slid in and out slowly. Her toes curled up in her red socks, and she arched her back.

"Oh, god, yes!" she cried out. "Oh my god, you're so big, Junior! Yes, fuck me, baby!"

The cars, now streaking around the track at full speed, drowned out her cries, though our friends on the roof may have still been able to hear us. My breath quickened as I thought about them realizing what we were doing, or even more exciting, that someone nearby was watching Kelly's spectacular tits bounce forward and back as I pounded her pussy from behind.

By now we could see that Junior, the real Dale Earnhardt Jr. that is, was in the lead on the racetrack as the race neared its closing laps.

"Oh, yes, Junior! Go, Junior, go!" Kelly cried out, coaching me along as I fucked her from behind, even while she was rooting for her favorite driver on the track.

I picked up my pace, sensing her growing orgasm as well. My hands reached down and fondled her feet in her soft cotton socks, and I felt her arch them in my grip.

I slid in and out faster now, and slid my hands up her legs slowly. I grasped her hips then, and pulled her towards me as I thrust in, evoking a cry from Kelly that was louder still.

"Yes, babe, you can do it!" she cried out in pleasure. "Don't stop now, you can do it!"

Faster and faster I thrust, and faster and faster the real Dale drove…harder and harder I pounded, my ball sack slapping against her pussy from our motion. Faster and faster we went, and the crowd's cheering rose to a fevered pitch.

Faster, harder, until finally, the three of us – Dale, Kelly, and I – reached the finish line.