Nascar Fever

"Gentlemen start your engines!"

The public address system boomed out the words that thrilled every man-jack, girl, baby and even the birds. Each of the PA speakers striving to be the one to announce to her that the Atlanta Motor Speedway race was about to start. The sound vibrations seemed tuned to the frequency of the metal panels of the camper van and Misty wasn't sure if her impending climax was going wait until that perfect moment when the drivers gunned their engines as the flag fell sending them roaring into the first turn.

oOo

Highway 85 North was busy as usual but then the camper van knew its way to this destination – Atlanta Motor Speedway. A stop off for food, supplies and the obligatory pee and in no time the Goza Road turn-off appeared; soon she would be there at that magical place; ninety-five miles passed as if by magic too. Even on this Thursday evening the approach roads were jammed with fans all bent on getting to their place, be it RV site or camping. The drag to their pitch was slow and her man unusually had taken a wrong turn. Misty so wanted to be in the area that he had mistaken for their usual camp site and didn't relish the thought of turning around to battle their way back. At the gate her man spoke to the gate guard and handed over their tickets; he waved them in! Her man looked and grinned at her and nodded. If she was ever near peeing her pants this was it! No! Yes? Here? Oh my god! She sat mesmerised as he busied himself and soon had them hooked up in – YES – Flock Brothers Corral; the infield camping area and the atmosphere was truly electric. How had her man swung it? Tickets for this area were always sold out well in advance and $400 peeaye for the Flock Brothers Corral the most coveted.

--

Misty's libido and sexual needs heighten prior to a race weekend, indeed last night she had surprised and damn near exhausted her man with a session of fucking that even she could not remember surpassing. So, as the journey to the raceway neared halfway a familiar itch in her pants demanded action. A hand squeezed into her unzipped hotpants signalled to her man of her needs but after the previous night and the demands of driving the camper he indicated that her needs would have to be satisfied by a little dexterity of her digits inside that denim.

The camper pulled up to a semi-trailer then held station alongside as the truck increased speed; a blast on its air horn near scared the heck out of her man. Misty just looked up at the driver, took her juicy fingers out of her love tunnel and exaggeratedly inserted them between her ruby lips and sucked hard. Had the semi been a ship at sea the eight blasts on the horn would have signalled 'abandon ship'; its driver would have willingly done so for just one taste of her nectar. As a bonus for his appreciation Misty hauled up her Big 6 tee and revealed two pert tits sporting peaked nipples. Her man signalled her to cover up when the semi veered too close for comfort and Misty reluctantly did as bid, blowing a huge kiss to the man of the road; he waved his arm in thanks as they accelerated past. Misty easily reached a climax then retired in the back of the camper to freshen up.

--

Sufficiently recovered from her initial shock Misty gathered her thoughts and began about setting up their temporary home at the speedway as she had done many times before. Several times she found herself just standing and staring all around like a child in a combined candy store and toy emporium. There were sights and sounds she would swear forever that she had not experienced at anytime in her visits here. People so obviously used to being in this hallowed place moved around nonchalantly, doing what they had done before but it took Misty's breath out of her lungs and made her heart beat so fast. Her man gave her a gentle nudge and laughed; told her to get her ass moving or miss out on the organised BBQ later.

But this was sex! This was her man between her thighs pumping his meat into her all-enveloping love tunnel. This was as near to orgasm a girl could get by just looking around. Her hand stole to her crotch and fingers pressed the denim hard between her labia. Her eyes closed and she was alone; the crowd disappeared, silence fell and she dug in her fingers. Only the soft tones of a female voice wakened her from her reverie. "Yes honey", it purred, "I was just the same my first time 'infield', damn near killed hubby that night with my sexual demands". Misty felt more blood flow to her already flushed cheeks; she turned to the voice, smiled and nodded dumbly. Her response was accepted as all that could be expected from a debutante infielder.

Beers were hauled from the cold box as they headed for the BBQ; her man leaned an arm around her shoulders, she hugged his waist.

... to be continued...