Nicci giggled to herself as she took in her image in the floor-length mirror. Yes, she looked like a whore. And, why not? She was getting ready to do something she had only dreamed about; bang the living hell out of Dale Ernhardt, Jr.
She had met him online on one of those "NASCAR Fans" chat rooms. He had been pretending to be a fan, and he struck up a conversation with her. Soon they were exchanging e-mail and pictures, and talking on the instant messenger. He had told her that he was Dale Jr. after a few conversations, but it took quite a long time for her to believe him. No one ever gets to talk to a celebrity in real life, much less become "chat buddies" with them. Soon, they were having cyber-sex, and she told him that the next time he was in town, she'd give him the screwing of his life. He told her that he would hold her to her promise.
This week, he just happened to be in her hometown. NASCAR had come to race in Richmond. Junior had sent her an e-mail invitation to meet him at the Speedway about midnight, so she could have a private tour of the garage and see the cars. "Maybe I'll show you my ride." He had said. She knew that it was his nice way of saying, "Maybe I'll ride you."
She was wearing a black tank top and denim mini-skirt. Her shoulder-length brown hair was tied up in a pony tail, and she had too much make-up on. Then, in the true sleazy mood she was in, she stripped off her bra and panties. No sense letting those get in the way, she thought.
The drive across Richmond took about forty-five minutes. She could feel her pussy getting moist at the thought of seeing her Racing Hero in the flesh, much less seeing him naked. Her heart was pounding as she pulled into the deserted parking lot. It was time, she supposed, to get busy.
Two men were standing close to the main gate. One was quite obviously Dale Jr. He was dressed in a blue shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. It took her a only a second to recognize the other shadowy figure as Kevin Hardwick. Kevin had a cute, slick smile and playful attitue that turned her on, too.
The two famous drivers escorted her through the gate and into the nearby infield through a sea of RV's. She linked one arm through around Junior's waist, and the other around Kevin's arm. Never one to mince words, she grinned at Kevin and said, "So, Kevin, I'm glad to meet you. But, why are you here?"
Kevin looked at Junior, then back to Nicci. "Junior told me that we were going to party."
"Yeah," Junior chimed in. "We are going to party, aren't we Nicci?"
Nicci could hardly believe her luck. She was so hot at this point that she would happily take both of them on. "Show me your rides, boys." She said slyly. "Then, we'll see where this goes."
The guys escorted her to the NASCAR Garage. Colorful Fords, Chevys, Dodges, and Pontiacs were filed out in a row, ready for the next day's race. The smell of gasoline and rubber was almost intoxicating. To a car groupie like Nicci, this scent was the highest form of aphrodisiac.
"This is my car, honey." Dale Jr. pointed to his shiny red Monte Carlo.
Nicci walked over and gently stroked the hood. "It's great, Junior. I love your car."