Potential - S01 E88

Story 4 hours ago

Potential - S01 E88

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 88

Her insides were on fire and she would have said anything to get something in her. "Evan, oh, Evan, put it in me! I need you, I need to have you in me."

Two of Rebecca's fingers thrust into her body. "Ah, thank god." The fingers plunged her hole while Rebecca's other hand flicked her clit with incredible speed. A climax was already building. "Oh, that's so good, so fuckin' good." Her arms tightened, pushing her against Rebecca's thrusts. "Oh, my god...it's incredible." Her orgasm spiked and her body straightened up and shook. "Oh, please hold me, hold me tight."

Rebecca hugged her. "You're incredible."

After they had dried off, Deana let her hair down and asked, "Does It bother you?"

"You mean am I jealous because you want your brother to make love to you?"

"You don't have to put it that way."

"I don't think it does, Rebecca said. "I'm not sure why it's important to you, but it is, so I want you to

"He's my brother.

"Maybe it's because I don't have a brother, I dori't know, but I can't Imagine a better person to lose your cherry to. You're so connected. Maybe it will be like when we do it? He might actually know what you like better than I do. Should I be worried?"

"I don't think so," Deana said. "I hope this doesn't scare you, but | can't imagine not being in love with you. I had no idea how much I loved you until we both said it last night. I'm not even worried about what that means, I just know I love you."

"Me too," Rebecca said. "Can we stay naked until we absolutely have to get dressed?"

"I won't be able to keep my hands off you."

Rebecca smiled. 'Good."

The morning sun had baked the racing surface, turning it from red to brown. The cars bursting to life and being revved told Evan that it was almost time. He started feeling jittery again, and he asked Dale, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Son, I seen you run that stinger and I knew you had talent. You're kin to Cindy, that's 'nough for me to know you gonna do fine."

"A stinger is just a little four-cylinder. I only drave it that one time and-

"You tryin' ta talk me out of it?" Dale put a greasy hand on Evan's shoulder. "Cuz if you are-"

"No sir," Evan said. "I want to do this, but I didn't want you to think I had more experience than I do."

"I been knowing your cousin since she was pedaling a trike and been seeing you around this track nearly as long. I ain't gonna git In no family stuff, but think you deserve a shot, a chance to race." He slapped Evan on the back. "Nuff said. Let's saddle ya up and git this party rollin'."

"Yes, sir!" Evan said, and ignored his sense that everybody knew about his father.

Once Evan was tucked down into the glove like seat of Dale's car, with the belts tight, he was excited. He reached for the start switch. The car roared, sputtered, choked and stalled. Embarrassment blazed on his cheeks. He couldn't even start the car.

"It's tricky first time," Dale said. "Pump her twice, then hit it and soon as it catches, pop her hard three times, then she'll purr like a llon."

The car rocked three times with a deafening scream. Race car mufflers weren't really to make the car quiet. He sighed and let the rumble soak into him. It was like he had never driven a car before and now he was expected to do it on a cliff in a thunderstorm, with a pregnant woman in the backseat.

Dale gave him the thumbs up and told him to go make some slow laps, then come back. Cindy and Elliot would be ready then.

After ten slow laps, Evan's father wasn't in his thoughts, but he was still nervous. The pressure was on to prove himself to Dale. Surely if he didn't go fast enough or crashed, Dale would find somebody else.

Cindy came over with her helmet in hand. "You ready?"

"When did Dale start driving pure stock?"

"He started working on this car last year and has been doing double duty this year. He's finally got all the bugs worked out and sold the street stock car, Cindy said. "Did you think you were going to be in the other car?"

"Kind of."

"Listen to me," she said. "You have something that most drivers don't have, and it's a gift, you can't learn it. I should know because I got it, too. That's the only reason been so successful. Now do what you do and remember all the stuff I've told you."

"I will"

"Make three laps below qualifying times, in a row."

"Three laps, in a row, he rubbed his chin, "are you serious?"

"Of course," Cindy said. "That shouldn't be hard for you. We'll do some laps first to get comfortable, then stay on my ass."

Evan kept his smart remark to himself, but he watched her ass until she was in her black and red number fifteen. When she was strapped in, he followed her and Elliot towards the track. Cindy's super late model was in the fastest division that raced weekly, Elliott's modified car was the next fastest, then Dale's pure stock. Cindy had a great ass, but did she really expect him to stay with her?

That gift that Cindy was talking about was something on the inside, an internal sense that let you drive by feel rather than thought. There wasn't a speedometer or speed limit, and distance was measured in seconds that you didn't have time to count. Time and distance blurred as the laps flew by, but the driver still had to keep doing everything precisely at the right time and place on the track.

Evan had gotten into a rhythm following Cindy and lost count of the laps. The fear of getting caught was meaningless when the slightest misjudgment could send him careerning into a concrete wall. His arms started to burn and sweat stung his eyes, but it didn't distract him from his mission to run three qualifying laps. Every bump on the track's surface was stored in his brain. The sound of the car, the tension on the steering wheel and how he flowed through the turns were all being processed and reused without conscious thought. He pressed the gas pedal to the floor, slammed the brake, turned left and worked the pedals through the turns, then back on the gas and do it again.

Dale was on the flag stand, waving a green flag. Cindy and Elliott rocketed away from him and he realized they had still been running slow laps. He wasn't sure he had any more to give, but he held the accelerator down a split second longer and pressed the break less going into the turn. The additional pressure on the seat belt was obvious. The car squealed. Cindy and Elliott were already flying down the back straightaway. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and pushed more, more, more.