EMM Superbike: Good start for Brendlmeyer, tough battle for podium places
As widely expected, the new season began with a commanding victory for Italian Sergio Castelli (34) on Ducati, who was already the toughest challenger to multiple German champion Vomsbeck in previous seasons. However, after two races, the toughest competitor from his old team, Apex Racing, is surprisingly not Marcel Pabst, but Yannik Brendlmeyer! The rookie finished his first race in the Superbike class in an unspectacular 9th place but seems to have gotten into the game better in the following two races: In the second race, he prevailed in a thrilling finish with only a 0.2-second lead over his pursuer. This secured him a sensational third place and put him on the podium for the first time in his debut season! The third race ended with a good fourth place, which means Brendlmeyer is slowly establishing himself in the top third of the overall standings. Observers have already seen some breathtaking maneuvers from the young Bavarian in recent races, whose drive to the top of the field was palpable every second of the races. Castelli was faster for the time being, but chances are good that a fierce battle for the championship title promises a highly exciting season right up to the end.
(MOTOSPORT Issue 14/24)
Yannik breathed into his stomach to relax and slow down his pulse. He could barely hear the engines idling through his earplugs, and a relative silence had descended on the starting grid of 18 motorcycles and their riders. In two minutes, the fourth race of the season, consisting of 20 laps, would start. Based on his position in the previous race, he was now in fourth place at the start and thus in a good position to immediately join the battle for the lead. Ahead of him were Castelli's red Ducati Panigale V4R, the dark blue Yamaha R1M of Spain's Leon Martinez, and the white and red Aprilia RSV4RF of England's Troy Henderson. Each rider tried to make the most of the last moments of calm before the storm broke. He looked up briefly and glanced at the digital clock above the starting lights, which was counting down the seconds to the start of the race at 12:00 noon.
90 seconds to go. At the race director's whistle, the start/finish straight quickly emptied: the attractive, scantily clad grid girls, who had been shielding the riders from the blazing sun with their parasols, moved away. The remaining teammates lined up behind the barrier to the pit lane. A tense silence now fell over the well-filled grandstand opposite. At the end of the field of drivers, a race director's Audi SQ5 with yellow signal lights on the roof had taken up position.
60 seconds to go. With continuous short and sharp bursts of throttle from the drivers, the engine oil in the engines was kept at operating temperature so that it could develop its optimum lubricating properties during the race. Once again, Yannik checked that all the technical parameters on his machine were correct. He made sure that the mapping, ABS, and traction control on his racing machine were set to the desired values and loosened his leather-clad legs once more.
30 seconds to go. With his ears plugged, Yannik could hear the blood rushing, his pulse quickened noticeably again, and his mouth had gone dry. Race commentators often described him as a cool-headed professional rider, and perhaps he really did have a certain hard-boiledness compared to other riders his age. But in these moments of extreme tension just before the start of a race, he was just as nervous inside as everyone else. The young racer took a few deep breaths and tried to calm himself. One last glance at the watch, then he closed his gold tinted visor and locked it. The race lights came on and showed a red light. Ten more... nine... a second red light appeared... eight... seven... third red light... six... five... fourth red light... four... three... fifth red light... two... one... all five red lights went out and the race was on.
A deafening, aggressive roar rose as 18 riders simultaneously spurred their machines on and tried to get away from the start as quickly as possible. Yannik got off to a good, but not perfect, start, allowing one of his opponents to overtake him on the right before the first corner. Yannik cursed inwardly; now he had to overtake one more guy to fight his way up to Castelli at the front and finally put the Italian under pressure. Right from the start, the young German developed his notorious ambition again and was not satisfied with just any podium place. He rode every race to win! The first right-hand corner came. The riders lined up behind each other like a string of pearls and leaned their bikes toward the inside of the corner. After the apex, Yannik opened the throttle and straightened the bike again using the acceleration forces. He waited for an opportunity to overtake the rider in front of him and found it at the exit of the next corner. Two laps later, he was able to leave Henderson, who was in third place on his RSV4, behind him. He defended his position for several laps against attacks from Henderson and other riders behind the leading duo of Castelli and Martinez, who were also battling fiercely and swapping the lead several times between themselves.
At the start of the 11th lap, the field had already spread out considerably and split into three sections: a leading group of four riders, followed by the midfield with another ten riders, and the rest as a group of stragglers. Yannik was still in third place and still trying to overtake Martinez in second. But every time he seemed to have caught him in one of the corners, the Spaniard pulled away again at the exit of the corner with that decisive little bit of extra power. Castelli was safely in the lead anyway and rode this race with a clear lead over the two pursuers, who were unable to close the gap. Yannik was going crazy; there had to be a way to get past this damn guy on his Yamaha! The laps he had completed so far, riding with the utmost concentration and full physical effort, were already taking their toll physically, so he refrained from any reckless maneuvers. More reason for him to lie in wait for his chance as soon as the Spaniard made even the slightest mistake. He doggedly followed the rear of the R1M and together they continued to reel off lap after lap. Shortly before the end of the 15th lap, it happened: the leading group stormed towards the particularly sharp final right-hand corner before the start/finish straight. Martinez braked a moment too early, allowing Yannik to pass him by braking a little later in a courageous maneuver and throwing himself deep into the corner directly behind Castelli.
“Unbelievable, the kid really managed to beat Martinez!” Tom shouted excitedly, having watched the maneuver live on the monitor in the pit and still completely blown away by how this rookie had been shaking up the established riders for two races now. Cheers spread through the team, which already seemed to have found its new star. Meanwhile, no one had said a word about Pabst, who was in sixth place and thus at the top of the midfield, for several laps. Yannik was also pretty excited about the success of his overtaking maneuver aboard the BMW M1000RR, but he had to stay focused until the end of the race so as not to lose the second place he had just fought for. The next two laps flew by, and Yannik tried to catch up with Castelli, who continued to keep him a good 100 meters behind. The red Ducati was incredibly strong on the straights, and Yannik was unable to do much about it on this track. On top of that, the Italian rode the corners with maximum efficiency and without any major mistakes, which impressed the rookie. While Yannik was slowly coming to terms with the fact that he would not finish this race as the winner either, it happened: three corners before the finish, Troy Henderson suddenly overtook him on the inside and cut him off at the exit of the corner before accelerating again. Yannik cursed and doggedly took up the chase. But the remaining 1.2 kilometers to the finish line were not enough for revenge, and so he crossed the finish line for the last time today in third place, close behind the Englishman.
They completed the lap of honor at a relaxed pace, and Castelli gestured his thanks to his fans in the stands as he passed by. Yannik was infected by the cheers, waved and greeted the celebrating spectators as well, and enjoyed the attention he was already receiving in this racing series as a rookie. Even though he had narrowly missed out on second place, he could be very satisfied with the result, as he had secured valuable points in the battle for the season victory. When he reached the pits after the lap of honor, his team's cheers knew no bounds: after he had stopped the bike, turned off the engine, and handed it over to one of the mechanics, he was greeted enthusiastically by the rest of his crew. Congratulations rang out, countless hands patted him on the shoulders and back, and a beaming Tom almost crushed him in a bear hug. Once that was over, the racer was helped to remove his helmet, earplugs, balaclava, and gloves. Once again, Yannik was congratulated from all sides, which he accepted with a slightly embarrassed grin and in return thanked the team for their support.
On the way to the team catering area to get something to drink, Tom stayed by his side. "Man, it was crazy how you pushed hard out there! That was really, really good! That's exactly how I want to see it!“ praised the broad-shouldered guy, slapping his paw on the racer's back again, who didn't feel it because of the protector in his leather suit. ”I would have preferred to see myself in second place today," said Yannik a little humbly, but with a cheeky grin. Tom roared with laughter and replied, “You'll manage that in the next race, but I still expect you to finish in first place,” and winked at him with a mischievous grin. “I see we understand each other,” laughed Yannik, grabbing a water bottle and drinking it down in one gulp. He had to slowly make his way to the podium, so he left the pit without paying much attention to his teammate, who had arrived shortly after him. Since he had consistently finished ahead of Marcel in the last three races, Marcel was no longer so loud-mouthed, just giving him dirty looks and avoiding him as much as possible. Yannik was fine with that; he didn't need any extra drama off the track and generally had no time for sore losers.
On his way to the podium, Yannik passed a fence lined with numerous fans, many of them his age. They took photos and videos with their smartphones, waved to him, and called his name. When he stopped and turned to face them, several hands waved him closer and a few autograph cards were held out. With a friendly smile, he approached the fans, took one of the markers offered to him, and eagerly scribbled his name on the cards. He also took a few selfies with various fans. Patiently and flattered, Yannik endured the commotion and tried to satisfy every fan as best he could. More than one girl snuggled up to the young, handsome racer with his slightly tousled curls and cute looks in his tight-fitting leather suit for selfies. Little did anyone know that he would have much preferred to get up close and personal with one or two male fans. Yannik grinned inwardly and thought back to how he had already had a hard-on in the tight crotch of his suit when Tom hugged him. The mechanic, who looked like a big teddy bear, radiated his own unique form of eroticism.
A little later, he met Castelli and Henderson on the small stage opposite the main grandstand, where the winner's podium had been set up and fans were cheering them on from the other side. “Congratulations, Yannik! I guess I must start worrying now, right?” the Italian greeted him with a mischievous smile. “Not yet, but soon. First, I have to get past Troy,” replied Yannik, and the three racers laughed, congratulated each other, and then climbed the three steps of the podium for first, second, and third place. As they held up the trophies and posed for the winner's photo, the Italian national anthem was played in honor of Castelli. Yannik enjoyed the hustle and bustle around him and took in the impressions, trying to make out individual people in the crowd on the opposite grandstand, but there were simply too many. A few minutes later, it was all over and he could finally retreat to his motorhome, the huge, bus-like RV where most of the drivers spent their free time during the racing season.
Hungry, he strolled over to his team's buffet, stocked up on salad and sandwiches, and then headed for his accommodation. As soon as the door closed behind him, he opened the main zipper of his leather suit. His functional clothing underneath was still slightly damp from sweat and certainly smelled a little pungent. He quickly ate two sandwiches, drank a can of overly sweet energy drink, and put the rest in the refrigerator. Just as the race car driver was about to take off the rest of his clothes, there was a knock at the door. Surprised, he paused and finally opened it. Tom was standing outside, holding a bottle of champagne. “Hey, you left this behind at the award ceremony! Sorry, I didn't want to disturb you, you always need your rest after the races,” the giant added somewhat sheepishly, but Yannik waved him off and invited him in. Once again, the sight of the burly chief engineer immediately made his cock hard, reminding him that he hadn't been properly fucked in weeks. With an inviting gesture, Yannik offered his unsuspecting guest a seat at the small dining table and grinned dirty as he locked the front door from the inside.
Tom looked around in amazement at the spacious motorhome, which left nothing to be desired in terms of comfort, and stood somewhat indecisively with the bottle in his hand until Yannik took it from him and put it in the refrigerator. With his 6’0” height, wild red-blond beard, and beefy build, the mechanic was a real man's man, but standing here in the motorhome of his team's new superstar made a big impression on him. Especially since the young guy was a likeable fellow, in stark contrast to his teammate Pabst, whom he had never liked very much anyway. Yannik turned out to be the exact opposite: polite, respectful, and quite modest, but blessed with fire and talent to shake up any race. “Would you like something to drink?” the race driver interrupted his thoughts. The mechanic nodded and took the Coke handed to him by the handsome young guy, who was still standing there in his half-open leather suit. Yannik had watched with amusement as the guy, who was at least fifteen years older, looked around with wide eyes like a kid in a candy store. So, he didn't miss the opportunity to show his chief technician around a bit and introduce him to the various features of the motorhome. The bedroom was in the back, separated from the spacious living room by a folding door. They both stepped closer to the large double bed when Yannik noticed the fat black dildo he had left on the nightstand. “Damn!” flashed through his mind and he blushed slightly.
Tom had meanwhile approached the bedside table and stared at the artificial penis for a moment too long before turning to leave and walking toward the race car driver standing in the doorway. But Yannik made no move to return to the living room, instead standing his ground and blocking the burly guy's path. He had the mechanic's gaze in his mind's eye when he had recently caught him shamelessly kneading his cock through the leather of his suit. Even then, he thought he had sensed curiosity. An excited tingling sensation ran through Yannik, starting from his balls, and his urges took over: Before Tom could ask him to move, the race car driver boldly placed his right hand in the crotch of his counterpart's jeans and massaged the full-bearded mechanic's cock and balls with a firm grip. The mechanic gasped in surprise and froze, but he didn't resist, instead letting it happen. Yannik nestled the soft smooth leather of his jumpsuit against the burly upper body outlined in the polo shirt and snuggled his curly head against the broad chest. Tom moaned softly and the race car driver felt the beginning of an erection in the man's pants.
Yannik took the mechanic's right hand and guided it up to his hips before sliding it vertically down through the wide-open zipper and under the warm leather in his crotch. When Tom felt the little guy's equally hard cock, he moaned again. With skillful, gentle hip movements, Yannik rubbed his cock against the large palm stuck in the sweat-damp waistband. Just as Yannik thought he had already won the horny guy over, he suddenly pulled his hand back and took a step back. "I... Shit, man! ... I... I'm not gay!" Tom stammered uncertainly, looking down at the floor in embarrassment. The awkwardness didn't fit his rugged, masculine appearance at all, but that only increased Yannik's desire even more. How much this uptight straight guy behavior turned him on every time and spurred him on to seduce them with his cheeky charm! Usually, they couldn't resist him and his plump little ass for long before they gave up all restraint and finally fucked him hard. Just the way he needed and loved it. With an innocent look on his face, Yannik approached Tom again, wrapped both arms around his broad shoulders, nestled against his warm body, and whispered in his right ear, “You don't have to be gay to fuck me,” then pulled his head back slightly and looked the surprised mechanic in the face with a provocative grin.
Yannik took advantage of Tom's hesitation and went one step further: he tenderly began to kiss the seasoned guy's mouth, whose lips hesitantly opened and allowed the cheeky boy's velvety tongue access to his wet mouth. Then everything happened very quickly: the mechanic's paw gripped the racer's throat tightly and pushed him roughly away from his lips. “What the hell is this?” Tom asked the boy with a mocking twinkle in his eyes. Gone was the almost submissive and reverent behavior that the head of the mechanical team had previously shown toward the young star of his team. But Yannik was not impressed, too aroused by the heated reaction of the rough guy and his cock twitching excitedly in the crotch of his leather suit. “Fuck me, Daddy,” Yannik whispered contentedly, writhing in the tight grip. But Tom slowly shook his head, letting go of the racer's neck at the same time: "No, I won't do that! You're totally crazy! I don't mind that you're gay and everything, but I'm not, and now I'm going to... I... ohhhh..." the mechanic tried to protest, as Yannik had meanwhile fallen to his knees in front of him, quickly unbuttoned his jeans, pulled down his white briefs, and exposed his hard cock.
With an appreciative click of his tongue, he enclosed the thick but not too long shaft in his hand, slipped his mouth over the exposed glans without hesitation, and began to suck on it. “Ohhhh, fuck!” Tom moaned, and within seconds his resistance to the advances of the hot young muscle boy completely collapsed.
But who could blame him? The warm, wet, and tight feeling of the mouth eagerly sucking, licking, and slurping on his cock felt incredibly good, and as a man who was married to his job and had little time for a relationship, this situation was not entirely inconvenient for him. Besides, it was a really hot sight to see the athletic new star of the team kneeling in front of him in his cool, skin-tight, colorful racing suit, moving his head rhythmically back and forth as he blew his pecker. Tom soon seemed to have settled in, as his paws took Yannik's curly head in a vice and directed the blowjob mouth over the wet, shiny shaft of his cock. Gurgling moans accompanied the spectacle, saliva dripping in long strands from the underside of the shaft and from the racer's chin.
Yannik was in a frenzy, the schlong tasted so good and he was so excited to finally feel it in his cunt. It was already puckering with anticipation when he interrupted the blowjob and stood up again. With a mischievous grin, he wrapped his arms around the mechanic's shoulders again and rubbed the smooth leather of his motorcycle suit voluptuously against his body. “I want your cock! Fuck me already, Daddy!” he whispered again and grinned cheekily at Tom. With an animalistic growl, both hands slapped the leather ass, eliciting an ecstatic cry from Yannik. “You dirty little minx. You need to be taught some manners! Hmm?” the motorcycle mechanic joined in the game. “Mmm, oh yes, Daddy! I need a strong hand to guide me,” Yannik replied, rubbing his tight ass against Tom's powerful paws with slight hip movements. Meanwhile, his erection pressed painfully against the inside of his coveralls. The mechanic grunted softly as he felt the two plump ass cheeks through the warm and soft leather.
Yannik decided to get rid of the jumpsuit and got help from his counterpart as he undressed.
Shortly thereafter, when he stood in front of Tom wearing only thin functional underwear, Tom's hands ran over the muscular but very slim body of the little rookie. Yannik took one hand, guided it under the fabric of the long-sleeved shirt, and rubbed it over the grooves of his hard six-pack. A soft moan escaped from both. Yannik lasciviously pushed up the long-sleeved shirt, exposing his slim waist and sculpted upper body with compact, spherical pectoral muscles, flawless six-pack abs, and well-defined arms. While Tom admired his upper body, the racer tugged at his polo shirt, pushed it up, and waited until the mechanic had taken it off. Broad shoulders, muscular upper arms covered with tattoos, a broad, hairy chest, and a round belly also covered with hair came into view. Excited, Yannik ran his hands over his body, caressed the stomach, buried his nose in the chest hair, and inhaled the erotic scent of the man. Tom watched the action with a grin, looking down from above, because he was beginning to enjoy the game more and more.
A little later, the rookie turned to face the wall, slowly pushed the fabric of his pants down over his two plump little buttocks and let them wiggle seductively. Tom approached with interest, spat into his hand and guided it into the narrow crevice to feel the little guy's hole. He generously lubricated the twitching muscle ring by bringing his hand back to his mouth several times and massaging in more loads of spit. Yannik acknowledged every touch of the hole with a moan of pleasure. Then Tom started, pressing his piston against the back door, which made the race car driver groan briefly. But then the cock slowly pushed its way into the cunt and Yannik let out a long moan. “Wow, so tight,” Tom gasped in pleasant surprise, earning a mocking grin from the little guy, who had turned his head around. “Tighter than the last pussy you fucked?” - “Yes,” replied the mechanic dully, as if he didn't like the question. With slow movements, he began to fuck the boy's ass, which he acknowledged with continuous chuckles. "Ohhh, yes, Daddy! Fuck me! Fuck me hard!“ Yannik spurred his stud on and was well served when Tom significantly increased the tempo and nailed him with clapping, hard, and deep thrusts. ”Yes, yes, yes!" The little one's cries grew louder and louder, so that his fucker finally covered his mouth with his left paw.
The fucking continued with muffled cries of pleasure. Yannik's own cock rubbed stiffly against the wood-paneled wall, the precum dripping from his tip moistening the surface and soon providing him with good lubrication. In time with the fucking thrusts of the mechanic plowing hard inside him, he smeared his cock and balls across the wet wooden surface. This felt so good that he was about to come just from that alone. But Tom was faster. His moans grew louder with each thrust into the hot hole, and with a quiet curse, he thrust his cock deep into the cunt one last time, then hurriedly pulled out and ejaculated onto the race car driver's athletically defined back, where the semen soon ran down in small rivulets. While Tom stood behind him, panting, Yannik turned around and began rubbing his cock with quick strokes.
It only took seconds before he finally came too: with a sharp cry, he unloaded his cream onto the hairy belly of his teammate standing in front of him. Yannik greedily knelt down again and licked his semen from the thick hair of the horny guy. When he finally looked up, they both had to grin, and Tom winked at him.
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