The Best Kept Secret on the Grid || F1

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Pairing: GR, CL, MV, PG, LH, CS x fem!reader 

Summary: You become the coveted prize for the podium winners and the reason things get a little out of hand on the track. 7k of pure smut.

Warnings: threesomes, foursomes (all three holes), mxm, mmf, totally unsafe sex practices - wrap it before you tap it IRL! Degrading words (dirty slut etc) no slut shaming here.

You were no stranger to the drivers of Formula One, in fact you would go so far as to say some were even your friends. You had been frequenting the podium after parties from the moment you turned 18 and could get past the bouncer. But one particularly spectacular drunken night changed everything.

It had started out as harmless flirting, a kiss on the cheek here, a squeeze of a hard bicep there. Compliments were rolling off your tongue as you congratulated the three podium winners of the race and they each had their own compliment to say about you.

Max, Charles and George had surrounded you in a dimly lit corner booth as a hostess came around with another bottle of champagne. "A toast," George said as he held the bottle up. "To fine wine and even finer company. Open up gorgeous."

You opened your mouth for him as he tipped the bottle up. Bubbles filled your mouth before trickling over your lips and down your chin but Max was there to catch it as he ran his tongue up the length of your neck, lapping at the alcohol that George continued to pour.

"You're a filthy slut aren't you?" Max chuckled as he swiped his thumb over your damp lips. "What do you think, Charles?"

"I think she'd look even more beautiful with my dick in her mouth," Charles moaned as his hand disappeared under the table and you echoed the sound as you imagined slipping underneath it and onto your knees.

"She likes that idea," George confirmed before he took a drink from the champagne bottle. "But what about the rest of us?"

Your pussy ached with need and you took his free hand, running it up your bare thigh to the edge of the dress that barely covered your panties. "I can multitask."

George slipped his hands higher and traced the pads of his fingers over the damp lace between your legs. "What do you say, Max? I think she can handle it, she's already so wet for us."

You arched your back, needing more of his touch but he tutted and pulled his hand back before having a quick taste of his fingers. His eyes fluttered shut with a moan and Max was on his feet in an instant. "Whose room is closest?"

The guys pulled out their room keys with different hotel names across the city and you giggled as you pulled yours out. It was for this hotel and just a few floors up. "I win."

Charles grinned as he plucked the card from your fingers with a wink and George's arm curled around your waist as everyone rushed to get out of the packed ballroom.

What happened once, happened again, and again, and again. You became the best kept secret on the grid, and the biggest motivator for the drivers to win, because the real prize came after the podium party.

Pierre had come third for the first time this season and Max had been quick to clap him on the back and tell him the night was only just getting started. His jaw had dropped when you slipped under the table in the crowded party and freed his cock but he quickly recovered from the shock when your tongue teased his sensitive tip.

You now conveniently always booked a room at the after party venue and Pierre had been quick to accept the invitation to join his podium winners in having more fun in your room. It was how you found yourself riding Pierre's cock in the middle of the floor, while Max knelt behind you with a bottle of lube, his finger teasing and prepping your ass to take him.

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