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.
