A/N – I’ve been writing for this category long enough to know that I need to put general warnings from time to time.

This chapter will include FFM / FMF threesomes (no one outside the family) and anal sex.

For the anoraks out there, the only season that Lamborghini provided engines for Minardi was the 1992 Formula One season, where they scored only one point all season. If we were to look at the time period where this story is influenced (60s, 70s and 80s), Minardi was either powered by a Ford Cosworth (2 races for their debut season in 1985 / all of 88-89) or the god awful Motori Moderni (14 races in 1985 / all of 1986-87).

Australian / British standard English. There is a good chance of reading the following: lots of profanity, characters drinking, typos, and bad grammar at times.

Proofreading and editing suggestions provided by OhDave1. Any mistakes are still mine.

Comments are appreciated as always.

Feedback by email is always welcome. Enjoy chatting with anyone who likes my work.

*****

Success in junior formula doesn’t necessarily guarantee the dream.

*****

Testing had gone well. Given that the Formula Three Championship was a spec-series, in that every car was the same, the only difference being the engine and the standard of driver, there were very few differences between the car from the previous season and the car that I would now be driving. Mum and I ended up spending most of March residing in Italy near the Prema factory. It also gave me an opportunity to head to Faenza and pop into the Minardi factory at the same time.

The first round of the season was held at Brands Hatch in the United Kingdom. Having done my research, I knew the calendar was changed every season with only a few events staying on every year. I’d raced around Brands Hatch before and it was a fantastic little track. Quite narrow in places which made overtaking difficult, even in Formula Three cars.

And it wasn’t flat. The first corner, Paddock Hill Bend, is a right-hander that plunges down and then the track rises slightly into the hairpin at Druids. A couple of left-handers follow before there is the long straight called Pilgrims Drop towards the right-hander at Hawthorns. Another short straight before another right turn, the track again plunging down into Dingle Dell before a quick rise and the right turn before the left turn at Stirlings. Another short straight to Clearways before a quick right turn onto the main straight.

Practice was hopefully a sign of things to come as I topped the time sheets. A few of my competitors were now in their second or third season, while there was another batch of rookies making the step up from Formula Regional. A couple of them had chosen to skip that and go straight into Formula Three from either go-karts or Formula Four.

We were supporting the British Touring Car Championship. It was always good fun watching the tin-tops racing around as the races were always hectic. Plenty of door banging and practically barging cars off the track. They were doing things you simply can’t do in an open-wheeler.

After qualifying, taking pole position by a couple of tenths, I knew we’d have one race later that day on Saturday and then the other two races on Sunday, in between the three touring car races. As always, Mum was with me in the little motorhome we used whenever we were in the United Kingdom. When we were away in Europe, the team either provided accommodation at the circuit or we’d stay in a hotel within a reasonable distance.

“Hope this continues for the rest of the season,” I said to Mum once we were in the motorhome to relax before the first race, “The team has asked if I’m interested in going out to Macau later this year.”

“I was surprised you didn’t go last year.”

“I needed the break after doing the Tasman and then heading straight into the European championship. But as I don’t intend on doing the Tasman next year because I’ll be heading into Formula Two, I’m figuring that I’ll give Macau one solid crack. If I can end my Formula Three journey by winning the three big street races, I’ll be rather happy.”

“Guess the next time you’ll be back in Australia will be…?”

“I don’t know. I guess we could make a short stop there after Macau, but I’d rather be back in Europe for the winter. Get myself in top shape for my first crack at Formula Two.”

“Has Giancarlo mentioned anything about which team you’ll drive for?”

“Not yet. But as Prema no longer competes in Formula Two, I am going to need a new team.”

I loved driving around Brands Hatch, and racing on it was even better. I made a good start from pole position and led into Paddock Hill Bend. What I didn’t know is that behind me there was a monumental crash that led to one car barrel rolling down the hill before coming to a stop in the gravel trap. When I completed the first lap to see yellow flags waving, I slowed down as required and had a quick look at the carnage. At least half a dozen cars had stopped, zara escort but at least all the drivers looked okay.

Despite being in the lead, I was never entirely comfortable as the two drivers behind me were always within a second or two. Close enough that if I made a mistake, they could possibly get past. It was all about concentration. Don’t miss a gear. Hit every apex. Keep everything smooth. The pressure was immense and the relief I felt when seeing the chequered flag had me realising just how tense I’d been. After the podium ceremony and a quick celebration with the team, I returned to the motorhome to find Mum waiting for me.

“Well done, baby!” she exclaimed before we shared one hell of a kiss, making her giggle as I pulled her into my body. I was still wearing my racing suit, getting out of that rather quickly before I pulled off my fireproof underclothing.

Standing before her nearly naked, she smiled at me as her soft fingers caressed my cock. “What do you plan for me?” I asked.

“Hmmm. A victory blowjob? Every race you win this season, Mummy will give you a blowjob afterwards.”

“You realise that I try and win every race as it is but this will just make me more determined.”

She pressed her body into mine. “Win the championship and you get to fuck Mummy in the butt. I want to do it anyway, but I think that’s quite the incentive, right?”

My hands moved down to her arse. Mum was a petite thing though her arse had always been spectacular. “Are you sure you want to do it?”

“My son is going to get his mother’s entire body to enjoy. I really want to try it with you.”

The small motorhome we had was parked away from everyone so we could usually have a little fun together and not worry about being caught. After we had dinner together, we tumbled into bed, Mum moaning softly as I savoured her taste like always, her legs over my shoulders as I licked her pussy. She had asked if I wanted her to shave. The look I gave her answered the question before I said, “Mum, you’re a mature woman. I don’t want you to shave it off. The trimmed look is hot.”

“Okay, baby. I’ll never shave if you don’t want me to.”

“You? No. Other women? It’s up to them.”

We made love a little later, moaning together as I slowly sank my cock inside my mother. Even though we’d been intimate for months, the look on her face each time we joined together was something I would remember for the rest of my life. The sheer delight and bliss she felt each time we made love…

“That’s it, baby,” she cooed, feeling her fingers caress my back, “Give Mummy all your cum. Get it all out so you’re focused tomorrow.”

“I guess the winner does get the girl sometimes,” I half-joked.

As I continued to thrust, she smiled at me. “Know what sometimes turns me on? The idea of you fucking so many beautiful women when you’re a Formula One driver. The only thing is that none of them would understand why I’d love to watch.”

“You’re a bit kinky, aren’t you?”

“Mark, I masturbate to the fantasy of watching you fuck your sister.”

That made me stop. “Really?”

“Absolutely. I know how much she’s going to love it when you do finally make love. But as she said, it’s best that she remains in Australia. Like with me, you simply can’t be together permanently.”

I did finally cum in my mother three times that night before she cuddled into me as we laid back to relax before finally going to sleep. She was asleep before me as I was already thinking about the future. I wanted the title before making the step up. I really wanted to win in Pau. It’s a fantastic little track, and winning the Grand Prix de Pau always looks good in the record books. Another win in Monaco would be wonderful, and giving Macau a crack would be good fun.

The next day was almost perfect. I started the second race well enough to keep the opposition behind me, and despite the car behind me having a nibble at a couple of gaps, he was never close enough to get alongside me, and after the fifth lap, he started to fall back and I just managed the gap. The third race saw a rather tardy start from me and the driver second on the grid got ahead of me into Paddock Hill Bend. Though I was pissed off at myself, the worst thing a driver can do is ‘drive angry’. That’s when mistakes are guaranteed.

It was all about pressure. I sat on his gearbox, able to read the lettering on his rear wing with ease, and it was all about forcing the mistake or getting my car into a position to overtake him. There are only a couple of passing spots. Either get a good run out of Clearways down the front straight and send your car on the inside at Paddock Hill Bend or stay close through that turn and send it up the inside into Druids. If that doesn’t work, get the slipstream down Pilgrims Drop and take the inside line into Hawthorns. Other spots are possible though take an element of risk and a likely collision.

For fifteen laps, I stalked my prey until he missed a shift onto the zeytinburnu escort back straight. I was by his side on the left immediately and had the momentum heading into Hawthorns. He might have been on the inside, but with most of my car in front of him, he did the correct thing and backed off. I didn’t quite hit the apex given my line at the time, but I was in front and that’s what mattered.

After the usual debrief with the team, Mum and I hung around to watch the third and final touring car race before we returned to our motorhome for a couple of hours, letting the crowds leave before we made our way back to London.

Although Adriana was no longer my tutor, she had established a close friendship with my mother, and there’s no doubt that we had developed a close bond as well. We caught up for lunch on Tuesday, and Adriana let us know that she had tired of life in the United Kingdom and was thinking about going home to Italy. Though we were sad to hear about that, I suggested that we could still catch up regularly if I did end up in Italy myself.

That made her snort. “Once you’re making millions, you’ll do what every other driver does and live tax-free in Monaco.”

“Monaco is close to Italy,” I retorted.

She gave me a look and finally smiled. “I was planning on living in the north-west. Either Genoa, Turin or Milan. Depending on what I end up doing as a career. I’ve enjoyed our time together so I might continue tutoring though focus on teaching English with maybe one or two other subjects only.”

“When are you planning on going?” Mum asked.

“Not for another few months. I’ve got a temporary job lined up that will be paying rather well.”

I admitted to Mum afterwards that I was sad to hear that Adriana was leaving. She’d been part of my life for nearly half of it. And given that I still nursed a little crush on her, I didn’t like the idea of her leaving my life somewhat permanently though was old enough to understand that she had her own life to live. I still offered her tickets to the Italian Grand Prix for if and when I made my Formula One debut. She loved the idea though she did tell me that she was Italian and therefore a Ferrari fan first.

The next couple of events didn’t exactly match the success of the first event, managing at least one or two victories from the three races. The fourth event of the year would be on the tight streets of Pau before again supporting Formula One at Monaco.

The circuit in Pau is tight and twisty except for the long main straight and the first curve is taken flat. After the rather slow right turn at Virage de la Gare, it’s a run up the hill to the next left turn before the sharp right that is the slowest on the track. The track then curves to the left as the cars accelerate before a long right turn leading into a chicane. Another hairpin before a series of left and right turns that get quicker before it’s back onto the main straight and past the pitlane. It was the sort of track that didn’t give the drivers time to really rest and relax. A real test of man and machine. But it was perhaps easier to pass on than Monaco.

Qualifying was incredibly tense as the top ten cars were separated by only a few tenths of a second. I wanted to be on pole, but if I couldn’t do that, I wanted to be on the first couple of rows. Accidents and even pileups were common in Pau, particularly at the start of the race. I wanted to avoid all that. And I wanted to be near the front for the third race on Sunday as that is considered the ‘Pau Grand Prix’.

I eventually qualified third, barely two-tenths away from pole position. The driver on pole wasn’t one of the main challengers for the championship. The driver next to him on the grid was French and no doubt hoping to win in front of his home fans. As for me, I wanted to win, but three podiums would be good enough. It would extend my championship lead. Consistency was what mattered most.

Mum loved coming to Pau with me. Given it was only a couple of hours east of Biarritz, and was a stone’s throw away from the Spanish border, Mum would come south with me anyway, but a couple of days in Pau was worth it when we could head west to Biarritz or east to Toulouse at the end of the race weekend. Like during our first visit, we stayed in a little B&B on the outskirts of the city, organised by the team. We had a twin bedroom where we quickly pushed the beds together.

“You know, I’m really going to enjoy it when you make it into Formula One and I can come travel with you every year,” she said when snuggling into me that night. The first race was successful enough in that I finished second. “We’ve never been to the Americas, for example. And I’ve always wanted to visit Japan.”

“I had given thought to racing in Super Formula in Japan if I won Formula Two but didn’t get a seat in Formula One.”

“Could you handle living in Japan?”

“No idea. It was just a thought. I think Giancarlo wants to promote me to ereğli escort the team once I’ve proved myself. Michele is looking a little long in the tooth now. He’s still quick, but it’s obvious to most that he’s struggling nowadays. When Pierluigi is managing to at least qualify in a competitive position, yet Michele is barely getting on the grid, it doesn’t look good.”

“Has Giancarlo said anything?”

“No. He doesn’t want to put more pressure on my shoulders. My focus right now is the Formula Three title.”

Mum kissed my cheek. “You’ll win it, baby,” she whispered, “Then you’ll win in Formula Two. After that, it’s Formula One, and I can tell all my friends that my son is a Formula One driver.”

Mum ended up straddling my lap as my cock ended up inside what was her furnace of a pussy. She was always so hot and wet for me that Mum did blush from time to time when she’d whisper how horny she was. I’d done some reading of my own and was aware that my mother was at her sexual peak, and having a perpetually horny teenager as a companion was perfect for her.

“Love your cock, sweetie,” she moaned softly as her hands rested on my chest, “Best thing we ever did was start making love. I don’t know why so many think this is wrong.”

“I’m glad you were my first, Mum.”

“I’m glad too. I wish everyone could know so all the women you’re going to fuck later can thank me for it!”

I woke early the next day and was in the paddock with the mechanics and engineers as we reviewed data from the previous day and discussed what would happen later that day. The clouds had been low and grey all morning, and an hour before the second race was due to start, the heavens opened. I’m not sure about the other drivers, but I was smiling.

Formula One will race in any conditions except snow. And it’s the same in the lower formula. Given that Australia can be a rather dry continent, it was only when Mum and I travelled to the United Kingdom that I truly learned how to drive in the wet. If there was rain, I had Mum taking me down to the nearest go-kart track so I could learn how to drive in the wet. And to be honest, driving a go-kart with slick tyres on a wet track is a lot of fun. Crashed a lot but learned even more at the same time.

I finished second again in the second race as the spray coming off the leader meant that I was relying on his engine noise more than what I could see at certain points. All I remember is that we raced past at least four cars buried in the barriers. Thankfully there we no marshals on the track. They might wave yellow flags, but drivers sometimes barely lift off.

Before the third and final race, designed the ‘Grand Prix de Pau’, I was sitting with my engineers to go over what we learned in the second race. The rain was still teeming down, and conditions were rather dangerous. No one discussed postponing or cancelling the race. Everyone wanted to win this third and final race. I’d raced in worse conditions in Formula Regional and raced on go-kart tracks that practically turned into lakes.

“Are you worried?” Mum asked on the grid as I was getting ready to hop into the car.

“Nope.” I pointed at the second-placed driver. “He’s so desperate to win on home soil that I don’t think he’ll last ten laps before he’s in the barrier.” Then I pointed at the pole sitter. “And he’s not good in the wet. I was following him yesterday and the only reason I couldn’t get past is that he was spending half the race sideways and I nearly crashed into him at least half a dozen times.”

Conditions deteriorated even further before we formed up on the grid. Not only was the rain hammering down, but a low mist had descended. During the formation lap, we couldn’t see the top of the hill after the second turn. I’m sure that I wasn’t the only one feeling the nervous tension after the formation lap. It was going to be a long, tough race. Even the smallest mistake would likely end in disaster.

And that’s what happened at the first major turn as the two cars in front of me collided and crashed into the barriers, leaving me free and clear for the run up the hill. The rain was almost blinding at times as I did my best to avoid the rivers of water running across the track. Relying on my pit-board during those early laps, I was pleased to see that the gap to the car behind me was increasing by at least a second every lap. And I didn’t miss the fact that three times within ten laps, the driver’s name changed, suggesting more crashes or those drivers who were better in the wet were making their way through the field.

It was honestly one of the toughest races of my career to that point, taking immense concentration as the rain was relentless. Just putting a tyre an inch out of line would have seen the car aquaplane off into the barriers or an escape road. Each time I pushed the accelerator or brake could have led to disaster, either spinning up the rear tyres too much upon acceleration or locking my brakes when braking.

The sense of relief when I was greeted by the chequered flag was immense. When I pulled up in the pitlane to be greeted by my mechanics to celebrate, the cars that pulled to either side of me were not those who regularly challenged me. My team manager informed me that only ten cars finished the race. In his words, it had been carnage out there.

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