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Sharing wives and cream for V-Day.
Mike blipped the throttle a couple of times, the car shook as the massive torque from the engine tried to twist the body from the frame, finally he revved the motor, popped the clutch, and hammered the gas.
Immense amounts of high octane racing gas flowed through the twin 1150 cfm carburetors as all eight barrels opened at once. The accelerator pump squirted raw gas into the maw of the massive carburetors. The tall lobes of the full race cam pushed down on the intake valves, pistons sucked the fuel air mixture down through the intake manifold then compressed the explosive mixture in the high compression engine, and the hot spark from the plugs ignited an inferno inside the cylinder. The explosion drove the piston downward, each cylinder of the big block V-8 repeating the same series of events over and over, and faster, and faster.
As the clutch engaged Carly felt herself being slammed hard against her seat, the front end of the car lifted, and twisted as the wide racing slicks fought for traction against the asphalt. What had been a low grumble was now a wild roar; she fought to keep her breath. She wished she could put her hand between her legs right now, she wanted to feel her finger fucking herself right now, and this was wilder than anything she had ever experienced before. She felt the front end slam to the ground as Mike shifted from first to second, then she was slammed back in her seat again, the front end lifting again. The roar from the exhaust, the unearthly howl from the intake as the engine gulped massive amounts of air, and fuel battered her senses. Her hips moved up and down pressing her vibrating clit hard against the belt between her legs.
Carly was drunk with lust as Mike shifted from second to third, her breathing was ragged and wild, she wished she had something to fuck herself with, she needed something deep inside her. She wanted release, she wanted to cum.
The shift from third to fourth was nowhere near as violent as the previous shifts had been; but the rear end of the Cuda still squatted down from the torque, she moaned softly, she was so hot, so wet, and now so close. Her hips humped harder and harder against her belt, her erect clit being stimulated by both her movements, and vibrations of the car.
This is what this car was born to do, run hard, and run fast. The 426 Hemi had been designed for one reason, and one reason only, to produce inordinate amounts of power, to race, and to win. If anyone had been watching, it would have looked like purple streak as the car screamed by, the sound from the exhaust shaking the ground. Under the hood the headers were beginning to glow cherry red from the heat of the burning gases being expelled from the engine.
Suddenly it was over, they were decelerating, Mike looked over at her, "What do you think, should we do it again."
All Carly could do was nod. Midway through the second run she peaked, it was all she could do to keep from screaming out, her hands gripped her shoulder harness tightly while her hips moved up and down quickly. Her body shook as the engine roared, lights flashed in her head.
As the car came to a halt she felt limp, exhausted. She looked over at Mike and smiled, "That was one hot ride, how fast did you get up to?"
Mike grinned, "I dunno, the speedometer got buried at one-forty and we still had about two grand left."
Carly felt wild, and alive, it seemed like every nerve in her body was on fire, she was almost at sensory overload. On their way home, a kid in his hopped up Honda pulled up beside them at a light and motioned that he wanted to take the Cuda on.
Mike looked over at Carly and winked, "Hang on, we are going to kick a little butt here."
At that moment if Mike had said, "Wanna fuck?" Carly would have been all over him like white on rice. The thought of racing another car out here on the street turned her on all over again.
Carly grinned at Mike, "Take him!"
The light turned green, the Honda sounded like an angry bum