Damn! It just wasn't enough! Marcel Pabst sat irritably on the third floor of the pit lane building at the racetrack that Apex Racing had rented for a week-long training session, watching the trainer's presentation together with the test drivers and race engineers. Various performance charts and time tables flashed across the large wall monitor, but the speaker's sober tone barely penetrated the race car driver's racing thoughts. In just over a month, the new EMM season would start, and although he had already spent hours driving training laps for the second day in a row, there were still crucial seconds between his lap time and the average lap time of last season's leading group. That didn't sound like much, but in racing, the difference between victory and defeat was sometimes a matter of fractions of a second. At his current level, he would have to rely on a bad day or technical defects on the part of the leading drivers in order to keep up, and at the same time he couldn't afford to make any major mistakes himself. This was an untenable strategy for an entire season, so he urgently needed to make up a few hundredths of a second in each sector of the track in order to improve his starting position.
Marcel leaned back in his chair, touched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, and closed his eyes. At least that eternal champion Vomsbeck was finally gone and he could concentrate on his own career in peace! The constant comparisons with the admittedly incredible guy had put him under a lot of pressure. But this season was going to be his! He finally wanted to go on the offensive and compete at the front! After all, the season was still young and he would gradually get even better at controlling the BMW M1000RR in the new setup in order to further improve his times. He generously ignored the fact that this development opportunity was also open to the other riders. When the meeting was over, there was an hour-long lunch break before they started the afternoon training session. Marcel left the meeting room to grab a bite to eat in the bistro, which served as the team's canteen.
Meanwhile, Yannik had arrived at the racetrack a little later than planned and, after a brief chat with the team manager, had gone down to the pits to introduce himself to his team. The handsome, likeable young racing driver, who appeared without any of the airs and graces of a champion, immediately made a good impression on the assembled technicians in the pits, and the welcome he received was correspondingly warm. Of course, almost all of them had followed his masterful races from the previous season, so Yannik didn't really have to introduce himself to anyone. When he approached his machine for the first time shortly afterwards, a tall, broad-shouldered mechanic with a shaggy red-blond full beard and a bald head stood up. Like his colleagues, he was wearing a work overall with the team logo and had just attached the transponder for measuring lap times to the bike. Yannik hesitated a little as he stood facing the somewhat intimidating giant, who towered over him.
But then a broad grin spread across the muscular guy's face and he extended a paw in greeting. "Yannik Brendlmeyer, what an honor! I've seen you ride over the last few years, it's just crazy, man! I'm the chief technician for your new rocket and I'm really looking forward to working with you! My name is Tom, actually Thomas, but you can call me Tom,“ the mechanic stammered a little sheepishly at the end. ”Cool, nice to meet you. Just call me Yannik," he replied with a relaxed laugh. “I'm also happy to be part of your team and am excited to see how the BMW will ride compared to my old R6.” “Oh, it'll be like switching from a Porsche to a Ferrari,” Tom grinned and gave the racer a friendly nudge on the shoulder. "No, seriously. The BMW has incredible power, especially at the top end! So take your time to get used to it before you start battling it out with the time table." Yannik nodded and they chatted a bit more about technical details.
Marcel had just finished his lunch break and strolled over to the team room directly above the pit, where the lockers with their protective clothing were located. Opposite his locker with the small wooden bench sat a slim young guy with dark blond hair in a fashionable undercut hairstyle, who was just slipping into his motorcycle boots. He had earbuds in his ears and his head was bowed, which is why he hadn't noticed him yet. Marcel immediately recognized the boy in the brand-new team leather suit from the photos: Yannik Brendlmeyer, his new teammate and reigning champion of last season's smaller Supersport 600 series. The new prodigy, who was already considered by many observers to be a hot contender for the next title in the EMM premier class.
The older racer snorted contemptuously. As if such a youngster could suddenly master a 200 hp rocket when he had only played with small 600s until now! He would quickly show the baby-faced kid how real pros rode motorcycles! Yannik closed his boots after tucking the legs of his leather suit into the shafts and straightened up when he noticed the presence of his teammate. A friendly smile lit up his handsome face and the young guy held out his hand after politely removing his earbuds from his ears. They introduced themselves to each other, and Marcel tried his best to hide his contempt for his younger colleague. In any case, the clock would be the most relentless opponent of all, and the hype surrounding the youngster would die down on its own once his first lap times were in.
Dressed from head to toe in dark blue, red, and black racing suits and boots, helmets and gloves in hand, they strode toward the pit. Their two company vehicles, two brand-new BMW M1000RR superbikes converted for the racetrack in the red and blue team design and decorated with numerous sponsor stickers, awaited them with tire warmers already installed. A large number of technicians and mechanics bustled busily through the garage-like room, which opened directly onto the pit lane. Marcel confidently greeted a few of those present and discussed a few final details with a technician. Normally, his more experienced teammate would have been able to give him a little guidance on how to handle the machine, which was new to him, but he did nothing of the sort. Yannik already sensed a certain tension between them due to his reserved behavior and somewhat strained greeting earlier. Great! What a great start to the new adventure! “Hey, Yannik! Good to see you. We've changed the map in modes 2 and 3 again. Take a look, here...,” said one of the race engineers, holding out an open laptop to the young racer and thus pulling him out of his musings. Yannik briefly concentrated on the data shown to him, asked a few questions, and finally nodded in agreement. “Come on, kid, it's time! The holidays are over!” Pabst called out from the left, slightly maliciously. He had already put on his helmet and gloves and was waiting impatiently next to his jacked-up machine.
“Don't call me kid!” Yannik muttered sourly to himself as he pulled his helmet over his thin balaclava and put on his gloves. He swung himself onto the BMW, briefly checked the status of the airbag system in the back of his motorcycle suit, and then nodded to Tom standing next to him, who grabbed the rear stand to jack up the bike. The rider focused on the information on the dashboard display and started the engine. As a farewell, Yannik felt a light, encouraging pat on his shoulder from the mechanic, then followed Marcel out into the pit lane. The two inline four-cylinder engines grumbled impatiently in the pit limiter, which was GPS-controlled and only allowed a maximum speed of 50 km/h within the pit lane. At the end of the pit lane, the engine control was released and both riders accelerated with roaring engines onto the following straight before the first left-hand corner. They eased into the race, with Yannik in particular using the first few laps to familiarize himself with the machine and get to know the engine's performance characteristics. Although he had often pushed his Yamaha R6 to the limits of its maximum performance in recent years, he immediately sensed how powerful the BMW was in every respect. This commanded the young racer's respect and prevented him from immediately going to work with gusto.
Marcel relaxed a little when he saw the rookie staying behind him lap after lap and not getting in his way. Maybe he would manage to secure a few extra points for the team in the championship per race, but otherwise the hype surrounding the youngster would quickly subside and he himself would be able to concentrate on competing with the big names from the other teams. Well, it wasn't so easy after all with a machine for adults between his legs, the biker grinned to himself and picked up the pace significantly after the first few warm-up laps. Since they didn't have mirrors on their bikes, he couldn't see if his teammate was still behind him, but he didn't really care. After all, he was the team's leader and main rider, so the little guy had better stay behind him! His top priority was to continue working on his performance.
Yannik, on the other hand, continued to take it easy and allowed the gap to his colleague to widen slightly, even though he had no fundamental problems with his faster pace. But before he could fully unleash his talent, he had to learn to understand the new machine inside out in order to know where the limits were and how far he could go. In motorcycle racing, it was particularly important to know how much lean angle and how much throttle or brake were possible in each situation in order to stay as close as possible to this limit lap after lap without sliding, crashing, or colliding with other riders. The first day of training ended as unspectacularly as it had begun: behind Marcel and with slightly slower lap times than his teammate, Yannik finally returned to the pits and got off the bike. After they had taken off their gloves, helmets, and balaclavas, his teammate approached him with a grin. “Well? How was your first ride on a real man's motorcycle? Quite different from the small, nimble 600s, right?” Yannik just shrugged his shoulders disinterestedly. He wasn't in the mood for long discussions, but was hungry and wanted to get out of his suit. “Well, looking at your lap times, you've still got a long way to go before you can play with the big boys,” Marcel continued smugly, but loud enough for everyone in the pit to hear. Yannik had almost left the room to go to the locker room, but he wasn't going to let that go.
With a stern expression, he turned around, took a few steps toward Marcel, and replied coolly, “Unlike you, I haven't even started yet. If that's all you've got today, you won't even be invited to play with the big boys soon. Or do you think I just happened to become the reigning 600cc European champion?” A murmur went through the ranks of mechanics standing around them, eagerly watching the first open dispute between the two drivers. Marcel's expression darkened. “Listen, you little runt, I was already racing when you were still...” “Hey, what's going on here? Barely a day together on the track and already bickering?” asked their team manager, who had just entered the pit. "Nobody needs this here! You're both paid to drive and you have to deliver your best performance! So put your energy into fighting for the best lap times and not into comparing dick sizes, okay? Only the clock will tell you who is the better driver, and we'll continue with that tomorrow morning. Now get going! Get changed and grab something to eat! That's it for today!"
With sullen expressions, the two opponents complied and didn't exchange another word as they peeled off their protective clothing and stepped into the shower. Fortunately, they had individual cubicles, so Yannik could enjoy the warm water undisturbed by the idiot and thoroughly clean his muscular body. As he soaped the crack with his right index finger, he couldn't help but finger his rosebud as well. The splashing of the water drowned out his moans as he penetrated the muscle ring with his fingertip, using first one, then two fingers to fuck his tight hole. Ahhh, what a relief after the first day back on the racetrack! He already missed Sébastien, with whom he would now have been cuddling comfortably in his hotel room, gossiping about Marcel, until he was finally fucked to total ecstasy by the Frenchman's hot, fat cock. But here he was on his own, having to establish closer contacts with the new team and, for the time being, take care of his own needs himself. Without having ejaculated, Yannik finished showering and went over to the hotel next to the start-finish straight of the race track to go to his room. Dressed only in white CK briefs, he threw himself onto the wide bed and grabbed the MacBook that was on the right-hand nightstand. He sat down against the headboard and started a video call with Sébastien.
They eagerly exchanged stories about their first day of training in their new surroundings. Sébastien was surprised that Yannik was taking it so easy in terms of driving. That didn't suit him at all, as he was usually such a daredevil on the track. “Don't worry, I'll show you what the BMW can do. I have a good feeling about it, it could almost become my new favorite bike,” the young racer grinned confidently into the camera, and Sébastien finally saw that mischievous twinkle in his friend's eyes again that was so characteristic of him. Then they started talking about Marcel's unfriendly manner. "Monsieur Pabst... Hmm, well, he's not generally considered to be very sociable. He's been in Vomsbeck's shadow for years, and I've often read that Pabst isn't really that good. After all, he hasn't won any titles since his days in the 600 series, and that was eight years ago! He drove well enough to secure points for his team, but he was rarely at the front of the pack. And in the end, he always had to wave Vomsbeck up onto the podium. I'd be frustrated too at some point,“ Sébastien remarked. ”Okay, I understand that, but is that my problem? What can I do about the fact that he's not performing? Then he should end his career and stop saying such stupid things to me! I didn't see anything from him today that particularly impressed me, but he's got a big mouth for two!" Yannik felt himself getting angry, and Sébastien laughed out loud when he saw his friend clenching his fist in his other hand. “Calm down, tiger! Focus on your preparation and don't let him provoke you. Do your thing, get to know the RR better, and then you'll show that bird who's boss in the next few days. That'll teach him some manners. And if not, let me know. Then I'll come over,” Sébastien grinned meaningfully, and now his friend had to smile too.
“I miss you,” Yannik sighed. “Me or just my fat cock?” the Frenchman asked back with a dirty grin. “Your cock, of course!” his counterpart replied, cheekily sticking out his tongue. “You little rascal! You need another spanking, don't you?” Sébastien whispered conspiratorially. Yannik nodded eagerly, rubbed the bottom of the MacBook over the clearly visible bulge in his briefs and moaned, "Yes, but really hard! Preferably with my arms tied behind my back, lying on my stomach in bed, while you first discipline me and then fuck me hard with your big cock," Yannik gasped excitedly as he imagined the horny scene in his head. As he spoke, he slid his left palm over his hairless, smooth, tanned, and toned muscular body. He felt the hard chest muscles and the deep grooves of his six-pack down to his hard lower abdomen. Soon his fingers had slipped under his briefs and he began to work on his hole again. His cock was already rock hard and a wet spot betrayed the flowing precum. “Oh, babe, I'd do that right away if I were with you!” Sébastien agreed excitedly. “I'd torment you with the riding crop until you begged for mercy!” he continued in a whisper, licking his lips as he imagined how hot the tied-up little muscle boy would look in his bed as he writhed beneath him in pleasure and pain.
Yannik closed his eyes with pleasure and rubbed the underside of the Macbook keyboard over his hard cock, imagining the delicious bittersweet pain of being treated with the riding crop. “Then I'll take your cock in my mouth and suck you off until you're rock hard... You penetrate me... Ohhhh!” Yannik breathed breathlessly, almost able to feel the penetration of his favorite cock as he drove three fingers into his tight, willing pussy at that very moment. The Frenchman was now really getting into it and seemed to be already jerking off his hard cock as he continued: “I push it in all the way, lie down on your writhing body, kiss your neck and shoulders while I start with gentle thrusts.” “Yeah, gentle thrusts! But then you'll soon get faster and your balls will slap against my ass cheeks!” Yannik agreed excitedly, freeing his protruding, precum-dripping cock by pushing his briefs down to his thighs.
“Oh yeah, then I'll really make you my stud! I'll fuck you with all my strength and every thrust will be willingly received by your tight, horny little cunt. And then I'll come!” Sébastien cried out and groaned shortly after as he ejaculated. "Oh, yes, come inside me! Give me your babies!" Yannik cried out, rubbing his hard cock with glazed eyes and twisting it with a moan as he erupted violently just a few seconds later. Several thick spurts of cream shot out of the tip of his cock in a high arc and splattered hotly on the young guy's face, chest muscles, and six-pack. A few seconds passed as they enjoyed their fading orgasms, breathing heavily. With a slightly silly grin, Yannik smeared the still-warm cum through the grooves of his rock-hard abs. He loved the sticky feeling on his muscular body. Sébastien lustfully followed the kinky game on the sinful, magnificent body, and finally they licked their fingers clean together. “It's a real shame that video calls are the only way we can have fun together at the moment,” Yannik grinned into the camera, and his counterpart nodded in agreement. “That's the way it is, unfortunately. Work is work,” he added. Soon they said goodbye to each other and the young race car driver went to sleep.
A new day had dawned, and after a light breakfast, Yannik had gone over to the pit lane building. At this early hour, Marcel was not yet to be seen, which suited the young blond-haired man just fine. This way, he could avoid the unpleasant guy for the time being and put on his protective clothing in peace. When he had put on his boots, he stood up and looked at himself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror: he looked sharp in the skin-tight leather suit with the characteristic hump on the back, which gave him aerodynamic advantages in the hunched sitting position on the motorcycle. A drinking water bladder with a tube could also be stored there to provide fluids during the race. He wore a jockstrap and had been semi-erect since putting on the suit. The feeling of tightness that gave him a sense of security, combined with complete mobility thanks to the excellent cut of the leather suit, turned the young racer on every time. It was just one of the aspects that appealed to him about his job, but one of the first that triggered him every time before he got on the bike.
He relished kneading his crotch, covered in perforated leather, and moaned softly as he grabbed his hard cock and kneaded it vigorously. “Yannik? Sorry, am I interrupting?” Tom asked, sticking his head through the door with a grin. He had undoubtedly seen the young racer touching himself in the crotch.
But that didn't bother him in the slightest. He had already gotten into numerous horny situations in a similarly shameless manner, and Tom was a nice guy, just his type. Even if he was definitely straight, maybe he still liked what he saw? “Nope, everything's fine. What's up?” the racer asked innocently after taking his hand away. “As we discussed yesterday, I've adjusted the footrests a little. Would you like to try it out?” Yannik nodded, grabbed his helmet and gloves on his way out, and followed the broad-shouldered guy into the pit. The new setup of the machine had been adjusted according to yesterday's feedback, and the racer was very satisfied with the quick work of the mechanic team. He quickly put on his balaclava, helmet, and gloves and climbed onto his bike. After starting the engine, he was about to flip down his visor when Tom leaned over from the side and placed a paw on the back of his helmet. The mechanic came very close to the helmet and shouted over the noise of the engine and the earplugs in the racer's ears: “Good luck! Now show us what the BMW can do! You can do it!” and flashed his broad grin again. Yannik was infected by his enthusiasm, nodded in agreement, and then closed the cool gold mirrored visor. One last quick fist bump, then the young guy drove out into the pit lane and onto the race track.
After getting used to things on the first day, Yannik now ventured a little further and improved his time with each lap. He was a little stronger at the beginning than in the following turns, but this clear and continuous upward trend was already enough to elicit enthusiastic reactions in the pit lane when he came in for his first refueling.
While the gasoline gurgled into the tank through the canister placed vertically on the nozzle, Marcel Pabst finally started from the pit and drove into the lane in front of Yannik without saying goodbye. "Pabst is a real sore loser! He just saw your times and got really annoyed. Your last lap was only three-quarters of a second slower than his best time yesterday! The guy is super motivated and will try to push hard today. Don't let him provoke you, just keep doing your thing!“ Tom yelled next to Yannik's helmet, and Yannik nodded vigorously. ”I know, but I think there's still something to be done today!" replied the racer, and unseen by anyone, an icy smile played around his lips under his balaclava and helmet. His ambition was aroused, he was familiar enough with the machine, and the track conditions were ideal for pushing the limits a little further. “How's the setup? Everything okay?” asked the mechanic. “Excellent, you've done a great job. Thank you very much!” praised Yannik, and Tom beamed like a Cheshire cat at the young champion's praise. The fact that the racer appreciated their work so much was by no means a matter of course. You just had to like the young daredevil! After refueling, during which Yannik had remained seated on the bike the whole time, he started again. This time, not only in a battle against the clock, but also in a battle against his new rival.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
