The Athletic Aesthetic by Vanessa Wu

Author:Vanessa Wu
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotica;Romance;Collection;Anthology
Publisher: Sweetmeats Press
Published: 2015-06-02T16:48:28+00:00

The best place to stand at the Jiading circuit is at the entrance to turn 8, according to Torsten.

“The drivers are coming out of a fast left-hander and suddenly have to flick right. They are pulling about three G through the chicane and you can see how good a driver is from the angle of his head. Only the good ones can actually see where they are going.”

I couldn’t hear Torsten’s explanations very well but I was happy to stand with him on the corner. He stood behind me, in fact, with his arms clasped around me, shouting in my ear. We both became more and more excited as the cars whizzed past. Their engines were ferocious. The vibrations went right through me and made my whole body feel like it was turning to goo. Or maybe it was the effect of Torsten’s kisses at my ear and his sly hands between my legs under my skirt.

Torsten had certainly learned to vary his pace. I noticed that Formula One drivers had more to them than just speed, too. Yes, they were quick on the straight but they slowed almost to a standstill on the corners. Perfection is not about straight line speed but knowing when to brake, how to go gently, when to wait and when to push hard.

Torsten had all the qualities of a first rate driver. He touched me so lightly and deftly that nobody but me was aware of it. And yet his touch was firm and controlled and assertive. He touched exactly the right spot. Consistently. Expertly. Precisely. He brought me to a knee-bending, shuddering climax. And, for all the breathtaking beauty of the action on the plush red sofa, for all the night-long excitement on Torsten’s bed, I know that the touch of his fingers under my skirt, as I watched the action on the track, will always be my most cherished memory of that trip to Shanghai. And a very beautiful consequence of that subtle finger play under my skirt was that I became a Formula One fan and bought tickets to the British Grand Prix. Torsten extended his newly-discovered passion for travel and met me that summer in Silverstone.

After two frenzied nights of lovemaking, he started to show signs of wear. He lay on his back staring at the ceiling while I toyed with the hairs on his chest.

“I’ll let you have a little pit stop, then I want to try a different ride height,” I said.

“Can’t you see there’s nothing left in the tank?”

“That’s what the pit stop’s for.”

“You aren’t allowed to refuel in the pit anymore.”

“I can’t believe I’ve worn you out so fast.”

“A car that still goes at the end of a race simply hasn’t been driven properly.”

“I thought a carbon fiber monocoque was supposed to be indestructible.”

“So that’s why you wanted me to be Monocoque.”

“The truth is, you are made of something softer,” I said.

The jibe pricked him into action and, with just a modicum of encouragement from me, he proved once again that he was, indeed, my Monocoque.

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