Racing Strip

My dad wished that I had been a boy. He never said as much, but he strongly encouraged the hobbies that were stereotypically male. He was never a pushy parent in that there was no pressure on me to do well at anything or take them seriously, but he was an advocate of doing your best in whatever you did. Of the many things that I tried the two that I enjoyed the most were boxing and motorbike racing. Boxing was crossed off the list when I was properly punched in the face, it hurt and was not at all enjoyable. So that left racing.

As I said, he fully supported me throughout my career, which is a generous description of my capabilities. I was an average amateur racer. In a field of 25 competitors I would usually finish mid pack. A top ten was a good result and I even got a few podiums as well, but they were few and far between. He was encouraging and I think he enjoyed our weekends as much, if not more, than I did. Starting at the age of five I carried it on well into my twenties. I never really advanced through the leagues or anything like that, but there were a few of us who were fairly close knit as a group. I was the only girl in our group which gained me a few advantages. It is surprising what you can get away with when they want to get into your panties. That was off track, on track it was all business and female or not, I got no special treatment.

I am 18 years old. Long shoulder length blonde hair. Five foot tall and weigh 53kg with a dress size of a UK 6. Handy to be small as a racer as I rode the smaller CC categories. This was mainly budget controlled as we were not at all rich and even keeping me on track on a 125cc bike was a sizeable impact on my Dad's bank balance. During race weekends we stayed in our motorhome that was also Dad's daily driver, again, budget reasons. To call it a motorhome was generous, it was a self converted Mercedes Sprinter Medium Wheel Base panel van. In all fairness though it was a good job, nice windows, double bench seats that converted into a full size double bed as well as a full kitchen with hot and cold running water. There was also a small bathroom, but we usually used shared facilities if they were available.

Privacy was an issue when I was in my earlier teens and hormones were flooding my body. A fair few arguments arose and I missed a few races because of it. It all calmed down though and as I got older it became less of an issue. Sharing a bed with your Dad is weird when written down like this, but it was in no way weird and if you are hoping for one of those stories you are going to be disappointed. Necessity trumped modesty though and in a one room motorhome being shy or bashful was not really a practical option. I drew the line at total nudity, if the panties were coming off he looked away, but anything else and I didn't bother. He was my Dad, I am fairly sure the knowledge that I was now a woman and no longer his baby girl was bad enough for him without adding any of his own fantasies to the image.

To add to the stereotype I wore a white and pink racing suit with matching boots, crash helmet and gloves. It was an all in one leather racing suit that zipped down the front from neck to waist. Underneath it depended massively on the weather. If it was really warm then just bra and panties and if it was cold I had a thermal under shirt and shorts. Normally though I just wore a vest top and shorts.

I have had a couple of fairly big crashes during my racing. I had only ever broken a finger though and nothing more serious than that. I was lucky in that I tended to bounce instead of break, but there was a constant reminder that motor sport was dangerous. A fair number of people had a big crash and didn't come back due to parents not letting them. It was always my choice to race and although my Dad worried, he let me do what I wanted.

"Morning love," Dad said.

"Ugh, morning," I mumbled covering myself with the duvet. I was not a morning person.

"Half 9," he said.

"Uh hu," I acknowledged as I tuned into the sound of the rain on the van.

"Pissing it down and 26 degrees C already," he said.

"Super," I replied sarcastically, flicking the duvet off me and blinking the tiredness out of my eyes. He was at the kitchen making us breakfast.

"Best results in the rain," he said encouragingly as he looked at me.

"Hate the rain," I mumbled. I was a moody bitch in the morning and he knew not to engage with my shortness at any time pre 11am.

"Cheer up," he said, "Breakfast is nearly ready. Are you going for a shower first?"

"No, I will go after the race if it is raining," I said.

"Okay," he said as he plated up. It was testament to our relationship that I was laying in bed, the duvet discarded against the side of the van with me only wearing a thong. I say a thong I wouldn't have been able to generate much argument if accused of it being a g-string. It wasn't, but it was pretty small. Ignoring that though and I was still laying here with my tits out. He has seen them thousands of times and he didn't even look. I had a small chest, 28A was my bra size, but as I was so petite anyway my lack of boobs wasn't out of proportion.

"Do we have sauce this time?" I asked.

"Yep," he said lifting the bottle so I could see it as proof.

"Awesome," I grinned at him.

He smiled back and his eyes trailed to my bare chest. "Gonna nip to the bathroom," he said, "Are you classing that as decent?" he asked. We didn't have an awning or anything on the side of the van so when he opened the siding side door anyone wandering passed at that moment would potentially get a fairly good view of a half naked 18 year old girl. Half 9 was a late morning for most racers, and even though it was currently pissing it down we were camped in the middle of the the busy paddock.

"Probably not," I grinned back at him pulling my arms against my chest to hide my nipples, "Chuck me that," I said pointing at my coat.

He threw me my coat, I caught it and knelt on the bed as I put it on. Zipping it up I stood up and straightened it down. "Okay," I said. He looked me up and down and shook his head. "What?" I said. I knew exactly what he shook his head at, the coat was a jacket and although it did cover my underwear, it didn't cover them by much, if anyone looked in they wouldn't see anything as such, but it was obvious I was only wearing the coat.

"Nothing," he replied as he opened the door and stepped out into the rain. He slid the door shut again and I heard him squelch across the grass.

I gave him a few seconds then took the coat off again. I slid my panties down and off as I searched through my bag for a clean pair. I was a natural blonde, although I was totally shaved down there. I just preferred the look, it looked neater and cuter. I wasn't a virgin, I had slept with a couple of guys, nothing super serious although my last boyfriend was the first who I let cum in me with no condom as I was on the pill. As it happened though I wasn't the only girl who he was cumming in, so we finished and that was a couple of months ago now. I looked at the bed and for a second I considered getting into it again and playing with myself. With the best will in the world though it was unlikely I would have the time. I had been horny all weekend with no way of relieving myself as there was no privacy.

I found some panties and pulled them on and put my bra on. I threw on a vest and shorts and sat on the bed to eat my bacon sandwich. Five minutes later there was a soft tap at the door, "Only me," Dad said.

"Yeah, okay," I replied. We always knocked, it was just polite I guess. To date though neither of us had ever said to not come in as there wasn't a lot you could be doing that had an innocent explanation. I am sure he knew that I did that sort of stuff. Being caught though without being physically caught would be super embarrassing though, and if he was doing it... ewwww. I bet he does though.

I went for the race brief that was required and listened to the usual safety and track limits and all of that sort of stuff that was routine. There was nothing surprising that was said and after the 30 minutes or so we were all dismissed. I had a quick chat to Steve who raced in a few of the series during the weekend. He was nice, 25 years old, quite tall, short dark hair and a decent body. As most of them did during sunny races they walked around with their racing suit unzipped and around their waist. I did sometimes wish I was a guy as I slowly boiled in my suit and I always rejected their offer to "feel free" which was the politest way they knew of to ask a girl to "get her tits out."

I went back to the van and went inside. "All sorted?" Dad asked.

"Yep, the usual," I replied as I took my coat off, "Bike ready?"

"Yep, ready to roll,"he replied, "Looks like a wet weekend so I will leave it set as wet for tomorrow as well." He looked at me with the 'I am sorry' eyes which I knew so well.

"Work?" I replied seeing his expression and reading between the lines.

"Yeah," he said, "Sorry."

"You gotta work," I replied hiding my disappointment. Racing was our thing and I hated it when his work called him away over the weekend. It wasn't the same on my own, but it did happen and it was just one of those things.

"Ride safely love," he said as he kissed me on the cheek, "If you need a tyre change for tomorrow... well you have tits, I am sure someone will do it for you."

"DAD!" I exclaimed pushing him. He knew I hated it and that was exactly why he did it. "Setup okay for dry other wise?"

"Yeah, you wont have the turn in, but it will be competitive," he replied.

With that he left and slid the door behind him leaving me on my own. Not only was I now flying solo I also had to drive the van home myself. I am not sure what was worse. I didn't mind driving, and it was just a big car, well a fairly massive car, but it was still cumbersome and squishy and handled like... well like a van with a small house in the back of it.

It was 29 degrees Celsius outside and still raining hard by the time of the practise session. We didn't have any means of drying any clothes in the van, so wearing the least was always the best option. I checked the curtains were closed and stripped to my bra and panties. For a second I toyed with losing the bra and for a fraction of a second I considered fully nude under the racing suit. I was still horny and wished I had masturbated in the free hour that I had instead of just watching track TV of the other classes of racing. God forbid though, if I did fall off and hurt myself having my $1000 racing suit cut off me would be very annoying. Having nothing on underneath the suit would rub salt into the wounds.

I pulled the suit on and my boots, picked up my gloves and helmet and went outside. The bike was in a small gazebo. I threw my leg over it, put my helmet and gloves on and started it up. I revved it a few times then moved off the grass and towards the pit lane. A queue of riders were already waiting and I took my position behind them. We were not the main event, we were not even the B side. We were filler and so didn't get a pit garage. Crowd wise, couple of hundred for practise, thousand or so later on for qualifying and for the race tomorrow there would maybe be 10,000, very few there to see us, but racing fans were racing fans so there were a fair number of people watching.

We were given the green light and we filed out onto the circuit. I flipped my visor down and pinned the throttle as I crossed the pit speed limiter line. As expected the back tyre lit up and the engine screamed as it red-lined. I grinned to myself and eased off the power until it gripped. Lifting the front wheel I flicked into second and lowered the wheelie. Grinning to myself inside my helmet and stood on the pegs and adjusted my racing suit. No matter how well you put it on, it always gets a crease or a bit of the lining doesn't quite sit right. Happy I was sorted I settled in.

I hated the rain. At least it was warm rain. I was clad in a full leather racing suit, zipped up from crotch to neck line. Leather gloves and boots with a full face crash helmet on as well. So why did leather leak? More to the point, why don't cows leak? The zip surrenders first allowing a thin line of cool rain to seep against your skin and slowly soak into your bra. As the material gets saturated it dribbles down your tummy and your panties start to get wet, and not in a good way. While this is happening the rear tyre is launching a constant stream of water against your back which soaks through and down until you are sat in a puddle of rainwater. Fucking hate it, I am good in it though.

I couldn't afford a crash, or even a slide really as Dad was my mechanic, and although I knew the basics, short of putting a fairing on I was lost. It was greasy, really slippery in the braking zones. Coming out of the last corner I allowed the rear wheel to slip a little so I could stand the bike up earlier and pinned the throttle. It gripped and launched me out of the corner a lot quicker than the guy in front of me. Right behind him I tucked in and broke early so I could release early to drift back up behind him again.

He lost the front under braking and slammed into the track as the bike slid away from him. He was on my inside and I reacted instantly standing the bike up to avoid him. I missed the corner and bounced into the gravel, but I stayed upright and missed the other rider as well. Keeping the engine running I paddled with my feet to the thin tarmac border just before the safety barrier and headed back to the track. I checked over my shoulder and the fallen rider was up and moving so he was okay. As I looked ahead again a track marshal threw out a red flag. I flicked my visor up and backed off to head back to the pits again while they cleared away the stranded bike.

The delay was only short and we were allowed out to finish our practise session. As we were way down the order it was cut short by 20 minutes to prevent any delays to the more "important" classes. That was fine though, it was wet and slippery and I was learning nothing. I knew the track, I knew my limits and I knew I couldn't afford to throw it down the road. I headed back into the pits and the paddock. Parking my bike back in the tent it lived it I squelched into the van and stripped naked.

I didn't bother with underwear as I put shorts and a t-shirt on, grabbed my shower stuff, locked the van up and went for a shower. Steve had the same idea and like a gentleman he held the door open for me. "Cheers," I said as I went in first.

There were no separate facilities available for showers so it was change in the cubicles or run the risk of someone seeing you naked. It had caught a few people out as I wandered in to an eye full of penis a few times. Some good, some not so good, but penis none the less, so not all bad. It was all clear though so I went into the end cubicle.

Steve went into the one next to me and I undressed. It always felt exposed undressing so close to someone else. He couldn't see anything, but it was open top and bottom cubicle, so if he was a perv he could have a peep. "Gonna peep," he said.

"If you do I castrate you," I replied matter of factly. I did put my left hand between my legs and my right arm across my boobs though just in case.

"Are you naked?" he asked.

"No I shower in a swimming costume," I replied as sarcastically as I could manage. "Of course I am fucking naked. Are you?"

"Yep, wanna see?" he replied.

"Eww, no," I said reactively. Honestly, yeah I would have done, cock is a cock and his is at least surrounded by a cute body from what I have seen.

"How was practise?" he asked changing the subject.

"Okay," I said, "Fifth. You?"

"Fourth," he said sounding smug.

"Time?" I replied.

"1:48.380," he replied.

"Ooo, two hundredths of a second, almost had ya," I replied.

"But didn't," he said, "Loser."

"Yeah, there was more time in it though," I said. I had been riding cautiously so I bet I had another half a second or so in it.

"Yeah me too," he said, "Looking forwards to qualifying."

"Yep," I said, "See who is quicker."

"Uh hu," he agreed. "What is for dinner?" he asked changing the subject again.

"Whatever I make," I said, "Been abandoned."

"Oh, how come?" he asked.

"Work," I replied, "How about the loser of qualifying makes dinner?" I suggested.

"Sure," he said as he turned off the shower. I had already dried myself and put my shorts and t-shirt back on. "How about we up the stakes a little. Loser makes dinner... in their undies."

"Oh really," I said opening up the cubicle.

"You scared?" he taunted.

"Ha, you wish," I said, "Sounds like a plan. Loser cooks in underwear."

"Deal," he said holding his hand out to shake mine in agreement. "And your bra doesn't count."

"Yes it does," I said retracting my hand, "Bra and panties for me."

"That isn't fair as I only have the one item," he said.

"Yeah, but you don't have anything to hide up top," I replied, "Plus you will be wearing boxer shorts so showing less anyway."

"You can wear boy shorts," he countered.

"If I had any with me I could," I replied, "If I lose, bra and panties, if you lose, boxers," I said offering my hand again.

He hesitated for a second or two before shaking my hand. "Deal," he said, "No wimping out."

"You too," I grinned at him.

I went back to the van and tried my best to get my suit dry. There was no point as it was only an hour or so until qualifying. Still it made me feel better at least trying. I didn't bother putting any underwear on, I would race in shorts and t-shirt as I was running out of underwear if I lost a pair in qualifying and then the race with the rain. The hour went really quickly. I put my wet suit back on and screwed my nose up as the cold wet leather stuck to me. I got my bike sorted and went to the pits. Steve pulled up next to me and nodded. "Ready?" he asked.

"Oh yeah," I said, "Hope you have your best boxers with you," I added with a grin.

"I hope you have a thong on," he replied.

I didn't, I didn't have any on, but I would have a thong on, as that was all I had with me. I flicked my visor down as the lights went green and pulled out onto track. Warming my tyres and preparing for a lap I settled into it. The session was only 20 minutes long so you had to get into it quickly. With 25 bikes on track the chances or getting a clear lap were slim, so it was damage limitation and luck. I got a lap in that felt good, but I still had more. Carrying the next lap on I felt the front tuck a little under braking. Standing the bike up I abandoned the lap as I didn't want to crash it.

I came back in before the chequered flag as I didn't have time to get another lap in. Leaving my bike in the paddock I looked at the times. I was in front of Steve by 0.5 seconds, but he was on a lap. As he crossed the line it went green. 0.080... slower than me though. I just stood and waited for him. Helmet off and grinning ear to ear. "Fuck off," he said as he rode passed me. We were 9th and 10th out of a total grid of 25 racers, so not bad.

"As long as you fuck off in your pants all is good," I replied and he flicked the V's at me.

I went back to the van and changed again. I put on some jeans and a t-shirt, with underwear this time. I had Steve's number so sent him a message.

Me - Ready?

Steve - Yeah. I guess

I went to his van and knocked on the door. It slid open and I went in. He was still dressed and I just smiled at him. "Close," I said.

"Yeah, very, I lost time behind someone or I would have had you," he replied.

"Unlucky," I grinned.

His van was nice. It had separate bedrooms plus a small bathroom. The kitchen / dining area was large enough to seat four people. "What do you want?" he asked.

"You in your undies for a start," I said grinning, "And tomato pasta or something?"