by Mia Carson
Her pussy was wet against the base of my shaft. I started pounding into her hard, pushing my cock as far in as I could. My hands gripped her ass roughly and squeezed it into one giant, succulent peach as I fucked her. She moaned loudly, and feeling so totally enclosed by her sex, her butt, her thighs, I did as well.
I couldn’t resist the temptation any longer. I pulled out and pushed my dick in between her beautiful buttocks. Slick from her juices, my cock felt so good sliding back and forth in the sexy valley I’d made.
“Oh, that’s hot,” she exclaimed. I was glad we were both enjoying it. “Your cock feels so smooth and warm.”
Unfortunately, the temptation of driving back inside her was too strong, so I slid myself slowly into her pussy again, nice and deep, bringing out another long, loud moan. I swear, it felt like the tip of my cock was pushing further than anything that had ever gone before me as I glided in and out, faster and faster. It was so smooth; it felt so good, a hand on each stunning buttock as I fucked myself into ecstasy.
In my delirium, I barely realized that Summer was coming yet again.
“Oh, my god! Don’t stop, don’t stop yet! Oh fuck, oh fuck!” she shrieked in pleasure, her body going into spasm and her mouth open in a silent scream. Her pussy clamped hard around me, squeezing me so exquisitely that it sent me over the edge, too.
“I’m going to come!” I breathed urgently.
“Oh, baby,” she managed to shout, “do my ass again, quickly!”
I willed myself to pull out of her. I pushed my dick between her ass cheeks again and fucked. My dick pushed hard between those smooth buttocks and felt so amazing. In seconds, the first jet of cum arced up over her back and landed between her shoulder blades.
“Oh, baby, that’s it,” she purred, reaching back and jerking my cock for me. “Shoot your load all over my ass. Cover my ass with your hot cum.”
I swear I nearly lost consciousness. Despite my powerful orgasm by the side of the road, I dumped wave after wave of thick, white jizz all over her sexy butt before collapsing onto my side, exhausted.
“Mmm,” sighed Summer, not moving. She stayed still, my sticky, white emissions cooling on her naked ass and back. “I swear I’ve never met anyone who can come as much as you.”
“You mean often?” I asked her.
“No, volume.” She smiled. “There must be gallons covering me.”
“You exaggerate charmingly,” I told her. “I’ll get you a towel.” I got up and headed into the bathroom.
“And it lands on me like hot lava,” she continued.
“Well, never having been in a situation where I’ve been jizzed on, I’ll take your word for it.”
“Trust me, baby,” she reassured me, “you should feel proud.”
It was still only the afternoon. Lunch wasn’t too long ago so neither of us really wanted to leave this room again. We refreshed ourselves with overpriced minibar drinks and snacks. We talked, we laughed. We tried to shower together but ended up fucking again, standing up, from behind. So we tried a bath; she straddled me until we cried out together in orgasm again.
Eventually, the sun set behind the surrounding mountains, and we’d expended enough energy to want some dinner. I ordered whatever the day’s special was from the hotel’s kitchens, and they brought us a large pot of locro, a thick Argentinian stew of beef, corn, beans, and potatoes, loaves of crusty bread, and a bottle of Carménère, a peculiar red wine from over the border in Chile. It was like a cabernet, only there was practically no tannin taste at all. It was far from the best red out there, but I liked it because it was unusual.
We dug in and, happily, Summer approved of my selections. We ate and drank on the bed, dressed in soft, white hotel robes.
“So,” she began, in between chews, “you think you’re in love with me?”
I stared at her incredulously for a second, then we both burst out laughing. “That was a novel way to bring up a touchy subject,” I told her.
“I thought so.” She smiled.
I thought for a moment before saying, “I don’t know, to tell the truth. I guess I could be. I’m not sure I know what it feels like to be in love. Do I want to be away from you? No. Do I spend most of the time I’m not with you thinking about being with you? Yes.” I moved my face closer to hers. “Do I want there to be a single day in my future that I’m not inside you? Definitely no.” She smiled her sexiest smile and kissed me on the mouth, long and hard. “If that’s love, then I guess I’m guilty.”
She was quiet for a moment, turning over my words in her mind. Then she said, “Good to know.”
“So,” I began this time, “how do you want to do this? Long distance?”
“Do you really think that could work?”
“I don’t know. Apart from the fact that you live in Austin and my home is Monterey, I spend about six months out of the year at various racetracks around the world,” I pointed out. “Would you quit your job and come live in California?”
“And wait at home to hear you’ve been hurt or killed?” she said, suddenly sounding hostile. “Like I did with my father?”
“Goddammit.” I swore softly. “I wasn’t thinking…I didn’t mean it like that. You could come on the circuit with me. Luxury hotels, champagne, jet-setting from San Marino to Qatar to Australia? What do you think?”
Her anger appeared to have subsided. She chewed her lip for a minute. “It sounds inviting, but I think you’re assuming I’m going to give up my career, which I’ve worked damn hard for, to follow you around like a lovesick kitten. It’s both old-fashioned and faintly patronizing.” Then she added, “darling,” with a forced smile.
I was somehow screwing up this relationship before it started. I hoped it wasn’t a pattern of things to come. “Okay, Summer.” I threw my hands up. “What do you suggest?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “You’re the billionaire. Can’t you just buy up my whole block in Austin? Then we can go sleep in separate houses when we piss each other off?”
“Like now?”
“Like now.”
I couldn’t believe we were having a fight already. How did this happen? “Hold on,” I tried. “Do we really need to do this? If I said anything to make you mad, I’m sorry. I’m pretty new to this.”
She stayed quiet for a minute, then took a drink of wine. “No, we don’t,” she muttered. “I’m sorry, too. I think maybe there’s some of our underlying fear of commitment here.”
“Wow!” I said, impressed. “You should have been a shrink.”
“I majored in psychology.” She grinned. She turned to face me and put down her drink. “It’s a big help in my job, knowing what people want and how they will act.”
I put down my wine, too, and scooted towards her. I slid my hands inside her robe, tracing my fingers delicately along her rib cage, and brushed my thumbs gently over her hardening nipples. She sighed and closed her eyes.
“So you’re always going to know what I want?” I whispered, then kissed her softly on the lips. “How am I ever going to know what you want?”
She slipped her hands under my robe in return, between my legs, and grabbed my stiffening shaft.
“I think I can probably find some ways to let you know.” She smiled.
Summer
It was good to spend the night together again. We did it twice more before we fell asleep, enjoying the luxury of waking in the morning and fucking even more, both before and after we had breakfast in bed. Eventually, we had to leave for the track again, though.
James’s phone rang constantly as we were getting ready and driving to the track. I could hear Keith panicking on the other end because we were late. He screamed at James to get moving. He was keen for James to capitalize on his excellent performance yesterday. James told him he was fired. Keith told James he didn’t give a fuck. It was an interesting dynamic they had, but we were in time for James to get out for the rider’s morning warm up. There were still a couple of races before James had to start
at 2:00 p.m. involving the smaller engine GP bikes. Other James was kind enough to explain it all to me.
As inseparable as we felt, I knew I was causing tension today by distracting him. I didn’t want them to start whispering about us as being joined at the hip, or worse, end up being labeled as needy or ‘Yoko.’ I hated those co-dependent couples, so after practice, I wandered off to watch the other races alone. I returned to the JSR garage briefly to give James a good luck kiss, just as the team started preparing for the start of his race, then I bid him adieu and left to see what I could find.
I strolled down the pit lane, sticking my nose in the garages when I could. I was used to the smell and the noise now. In fact, since that clarifying session with my mom, I was enjoying the race experience again. It still devastated me that it cost him his life, but my father did die providing for his family and doing what he loved. Everywhere I looked, something conjured up a happy memory of him. A technician looking for a wrench reminded me of Dad having me pass him tools as he worked on his racecar. Another guy carrying some tires made me think of the time he tripped and fell, landing ass first in a small stack of rubber and getting stuck. I smiled to myself as I remembered how Uncle Reggie had to come over and help him get out. As I let my mind sort through these fond memories, all I could see was my dad’s smiling face. He had loved me, he had loved my mother, and my heart hurt as I imagined how he’d feel about me using his memory to keep myself from being truly happy.
I happened on the Repsol Honda garage, and there was the young PA, Sam, massaging the shoulders of her new star racer boyfriend. She saw me and excused herself. She was so happy, enthused about how well things were going between them. She asked me about James and I told her we were working on it. We gossiped about anything we could think of until we were told we were in the way.
I promised to catch up soon and continued my walk. Four doors down, I found myself at the garage of the English rider who James referred to as Blake. He was younger than James, but the sour look that occupied his face most of the time, coupled with a big chin and a receding hairline, meant he was never going to be called attractive. He didn’t say anything to me—why would he—but then I heard a petulant voice behind me.
“I do hope everything is going well for you two.”
I turned around and the brunette stood there, arms crossed, foot tapping, though stunning. It was such a shame her insides didn’t match her outsides.
“Suzi, isn’t it?” I asked, cordially “Look, I’m sorry you got hurt, I really am, but you’re young and you’re amazingly beautiful. Why are you so hung up on James? There are so many other eligible men in this pit lane alone. I mean, you’re with Blake now, right?”
“Ha!” she snorted. “He wishes. He’s been chasing me since Austin. He’ll do pretty much anything for me.” She leaned in to me, lowering her voice conspiratorially. I could smell alcohol on her breath and noticed that her eyes appeared worryingly wild as she spoke. “In fact, he thinks if he does me a favor in this race, I’ll actually let him fuck me. Shh!” She giggled, putting a finger to her lips.
Holy crap. A sinking feeling opened up in the pit of my stomach. I turned and walked back to the JSR pit, nearly colliding with people I was too wrapped up in my thoughts to notice. Surely she wasn’t that crazy. However, all the evidence pointed to the contrary.
Technicians had been wheeling bikes out of the garages for the last few minutes, and now, the riders were jumping on and roaring off to line up at the start. I picked up my pace and trotted to our garage. Then, as desperation started to take over, I increased my pace to a run.
I sprinted up to Ray. “Where’s James?” I yelled above the noise of the screaming engines. “Where is he?” Ray pointed to James’s black bike as it disappeared onto the track. “We have to warn him. Blake is going to try something dangerous. Suzi has him eating out of her hand. James is going to get hurt! We have to tell him!”
“No way we can reach him now,” Ray yelled back. I was too late.
James
Accelerating out of the pit lane onto the track, enjoying the shrill chorus of the motor as it powered up through the rev range felt as awesome as it always did. I stood up on the pegs and shook my body to settle my race suit more comfortably around me. I sat back down and popped the clutch to haul up a little mini wheelie. Showboating like this is frowned upon by the race organizers, but I was sure no one would be too upset. I was on cloud nine, feeling high as a kite about Summer and looking forward to a great race, enjoying one of my highest Moto GP starting positions ever and, even more, looking forward to seeing Summer, spending some quality time together, and making some proper life plans.
At this moment, though, I needed to concentrate. Even though we were cruising around to line up at the start, daydreaming about Summer meant I’d just carved up Dovizioso on his factory Ducati as he was trying to pass under me. He shot me a look, and I held up my hand in apology. He shook his head and powered off down the straightaway. That was bound to cost me a few drinks later.
Suddenly, I was surrounded by the buzzing sound of someone else’s bike riding too close. As I rounded the turn, he planted himself on the inside line, so close to me his engine was right by my head, making my helmet vibrate. I couldn’t see who was dicking around on the formation lap, but he was an idiot. We weren’t under starters orders—why the fuck was he pulling such a risky maneuver? We brought our bikes upright, and as we exited the turn, I saw Blake’s blue and green livery on his customer Honda. I focused a death stare at him, but he gave me the finger and accelerated. He really was an asshole. Maybe he was still pissed that I hooked up with Suzi and he didn’t. Whatever his problem, it was on, so I raced after him.
Like he would have had a chance with Suzi, anyway, whether I’d got in the way or not. And then I remembered Summer pointing them out yesterday. It had slipped my mind that we’d seen them together, looking like they were talking about us, and there was no earthly reason for her to be here unless Blake brought her from Austin. There was definitely something going on that I’d not been told about, and I hated when that happened.
I was being childish, but chasing Blake down was fun. We both nailed it hard out of turn nine, a ninety-degree left-hander, and scythed through the little S-bend after. Going hard in third gear into the open, sweeping turn eleven, Blake sat up a little and slowed. Figuring he’d had enough of being a jerk, I pulled level on his outside and set myself up for a smooth line through the sweeper. But instead of letting me pass, Blake sped up to stay alongside me. Now I needed to tip my bike into the turn, but he blocked me, forcing me to go straight on. I realized what was happening too late to brake before my tires hit the slippery red and white edge of the track. The asshole was trying to kill me!
I must have been nearing 130 mph as he pushed me off the track, and I ran out onto the grass. The bike started bucking over the rough surface, nearly throwing me out of the saddle. My heart was in my mouth as I tried desperately not to upset the delicate balance. I told myself to relax, to stay loose. It was entirely possible for the bike to run straight on through the dicey and uneven grass, engine brake slowing it enough for me to bring it back under control and allow us both to avoid disaster.
The fates must have had other ideas, though, because the back wheel lost traction and slid out sideways. I slid with it, waiting for it to pull back into line, but the rear tire glided back over the tarmac and quickly picked up grip. I didn’t have time to scream before, with a force found in few other sports on this planet, my bike jolted upright, hurling me violently over the handlebars, and flipped. The last thing I saw was the ground heading towards me, far too quickly.
Summer
I knew it. We watched the monitors showing the bikes lining up on the grid when there was a sudden cut to a black bike with red wheels ploughing through the grass at incredible speed. It threw up mud and turf as it slid, hit the gravel, and bounced before flying into the tire wall, sending debris in every direction before it split apart and bur
st into flames.
My heart was in my mouth. Was this really happening? Keith put a hand on my shoulder as we searched the screen for a sign of the rider. We knew it was James, even though we hadn’t seen him or the number on his bike, and when the camera finally did focus on his prone, unmoving body, tears welled up in my eyes. I felt a huge, silent scream building inside me and knew if I let it out I’d never be able to stop. I buried my face in Keith’s chest.
I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t believe this was happening again. I kept my eyes shut tight; all I could see was the look on my mother’s face when she took that call about my dad. I heard the announcer confirming it was James, saying they had no idea what had gone wrong or how such a big crash could happen on the formation lap. The marshals were tending to him and the ambulance had been dispatched, the announcer continued, and obviously, the start of the race would have to be delayed.
Fuck them! James was lying hurt or dead and all they cared about was a late start? I knew there was a reason I hated this so-called sport. I didn’t realize it, but I sobbed into Keith’s shirt. He had an arm around me and stroked my back, telling me James was going to be okay.
“Come on,” he said finally and almost carried me over to one of the pit officials who agreed to take us in his golf buggy to the medical center over by the control tower.
The ambulance was twenty minutes away. We waited by the door and heard the race start as the paramedics pulled up. They opened the van door and pulled out the stretcher with James on it. He still had his helmet on, so I couldn’t see if he was awake or even alive, but they’d also put a neck brace on him, which I didn’t think they would bother with if he were dead.
We followed him and his attendants in, just like they did on TV, and they told us to wait outside so they could do their jobs. An agonizing ten minutes followed. I banged on the doors and Keith tried to calm me before the circuit doctor appeared and approached us. My mind was close to shattering. What if he was paralyzed? Brain damaged? Comatose? I pictured us older, me having to spoon-feed his bed-bound body. Was I invested enough to spend the rest of my life taking care of him? I was a total mess, and I just wanted to run back to Austin and cry for a month.