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A loud CRASH sounded through the room when Turbo slammed the garage door down. He huffed and stomped angrily in place, “FUCK- Fuck me! Fuck YOU! UGH!!” He shouted before falling backward onto his beanbag. Turbo felt like screaming, but he also felt too angry to let himself make another noise. It’s like every emotion was coming at him at such a rapid pace, he didn’t know what to do. So, instead, he buried his face in his hands, and kicked his legs around like a stupid kid.
Today had been hell for the poor racer, he hadn’t seen the usual players come up to play, the usual ones with that recognizable spark in their eyes he loved to see. Only then does he know he’s gonna get controlled by a skilled player. But this time was different, it was most to all players who didn’t know how to play right and made him lose almost every single time. He didn’t care about the fact that coming in second place didn’t necessarily count as losing, it still made him feel like shit. It didn’t help him either when he caught the twins laughing and whispering to themselves after noticing his tempered face. Laughing! At him! It only fueled his anger.
Now he’s sitting alone in his garage, his face covered by his hands, only with his thoughts to accompany him. Turbo felt tears threatening to make themselves known, but he quickly wiped them away with his sleeves as if there was anybody else in this room to watch him. He let out a breath and looked down at his sneakers, thinking about today, the losses, the twins, “What a day…”
His lips quivered down to a frown, but he didn’t dare let himself cry. He averted his gaze instead and his pupils landed onto his poorly parked kart. For a moment, he stared at it, but he eventually looked back down again when he felt his cheeks heat up.
“Don’t look at me like that…” He muttered. There was a weird silence of Turbo sitting, chewing at his lip while he contemplated… Eyes landed on the sleek red and white metal of his kart again. The shiny wheels, the dust free interior… “It’s not my fault” he spoke again, as if trying to convince someone, “I’ve just had an unlucky day, that’s all…”
A small moment of silence went by again of him just staring at his kart before eventually standing up and walking toward it, “it’s not your fault either” he responded to seemingly nothing while a small grin slowly appeared on his face, he kneeled beside his beauty and spoke again, “it’s never your fault.” A hand came up to gently trace the horizontal white line going along the side of his kart before leaning in to kiss the spots he touched. “We’ve both had a rough day, baby”, he sighed against the metal surface.
One hand came up to grab the kart from the top and push himself up, forcing his kisses to end. He stood there, looking down at the interior, where he had sweat while racing, put, hands on the wheel. His gaze slowly moved further down to examine the kart. The wheels were dirty from debris and mud, the nose cone was dusty and stained, and so was the rear from getting sprayed with dirt by the tires. “Look at you… all filthy because of me. Let’s fix that, sweetheart.” Turbo spoke, making his way to the back where he kneeled.
The exhaust pipe was no exception to filth, the body was dusty and the end of the pipe was ringed with greasy black residue. Turbo ran a finger along the ring, wiping off any dirt that caught on, then bringing it to his face to look at. Without the need to speak, he stood up and walked to a shelf to grab a cloth, then making his way back and into the same position. He cleaned his finger first before working the cloth inside the exhaust pipe. Using one finger, he helped push the cloth around, pressing it against the metal walls and rubbing at the filth inside.
Something about it gave him a familiar warm feeling. Just for a second did he feel like he was zoning out, caught between the feeling of his fingers working inside the exhaust pipe and the warmth growing inside him. But he tried to focus back on cleaning again. Bringing the cloth out, it had turned all black, and again did Turbo feel himself heat up. He remained put, unsure of what exactly to do first. His mind was spiraling with thoughts as his eyes flicked from the cloth to the pipe and back. He sighed, trying to gather his composure as he spoke, “I know what you’re trying to do, but I’d really rather not stain my suit black.”
But he hadn’t really convinced himself of that either. Staring at the cleaner exhaust pipe, he bit his lip and his free hand came down to grip himself through his clothes. He squeezed, then rocked his hips up once. For a moment, he stayed still, still squeezing as if that’d help him hold onto his composure. He was supposed to focus on cleaning. But alas, his restraint gave away.
“Fffffffine,” He threw the dirty cloth aside, then a toothy smile appeared on his face, “you win, sugar. You always know exactly how to make me feel better.” He scooted closer to the back of his kart. Both hands came up to unfasten the rear wing and gently set it aside. Then, he leaned against the back of his kart, his hips pressed forward and his clothed turbaling pressed against the hole of the exhaust pipe. He gently began rocking his hips against it, pushing away the thoughts of his clothes possibly getting stained black. That’d be hard to get out.
Speaking of hard.
His clothes were getting quite tight with the continuing friction he received. With every move and shift of his hips, he attempted to shove himself inside of the exhaust pipe, but to no avail, so he instead pushed himself off his kart. Turbo looked down at himself. Yeah, that’s a black stain alright. He swallowed hard at the sight, it was strangely arousing, but at the same time, he’d have to clean it thoroughly later. So, he decided to discard his whole suit for now. A hand came up to pop his collar open, then started unzipping his suit, pulling the zipper all the way until it couldn’t anymore. He pulled his suit down his shoulders and got up to push it further down, removing his arms from its sleeves and got pushed past his hips until his legs, as well as his shoes, got pulled out.
The jumpsuit got curled up, thrown across the room and onto Turbo’s bed which was a simple mattress in the corner of his garage. Both hands came up to pull his helmet off which was then gently placed on the floor. Turbo was now in only socks and tented boxers. He looked around before spotting his bottle of lube, walking over to get it.
When he walked back again, he got on his knees again and pulled his dick out, finally getting some relief. He squirted some lube onto his hand, then started working his dick while he stared at the round pipe begging to be filled by him. Once it was nice and slippery, he got into position and slowly inserted himself inside of the pipe. The metal of the pipe felt cold against his skin as he stared at himself, he slowly began moving in and out.
The metal pipe was rigid around his cock, it didn’t expand or squeeze or nothing, but it felt perfect around him, like it was made just for him. “Holy shit…” he sighed, slowly beginning to move faster as he grew harder. Hands reached over to hold onto the seatback of his kart to keep himself in position.
With each thrust, the rim end at the end of the pipe would push against the base of his dick where it met his body. The hard metal edge that dug into him hurt, but Turbo’s mind was so lustfilled that it only stirred him on even more.
“Such a dirty girl… So dirty… Just for- for me. Uhh…” Turbo panted, his vision blurred. Never did he think fucking a metal pipe would feel so good. But maybe the fact was that it’s his kart, his precious little thing that he loved so much. Would he feel this way toward anything metal? He didn’t want to think about it anymore, he only wanted to focus on the sweet sensation of his cock rubbing against the exhaust pipe of his kart.
His breath turned heavy with every pant, his hips moved faster with every thrust. He felt so, so close. “My sweet… My- ah..” Turbo couldn’t help noises from escaping his lips as he pistoned against the metal. His head came down to rest against the back of his kart, breath was hot against the surface. “Ah.. Uhghhfuck- Ughhh..” With a final cry, Turbo felt everything explode. He didn’t stop moving, wanting to savour every second of this sweet sensation. He continued to whine quietly as he did. Then, there was a sudden knock, startling him out of his trance.
“Turbo, are you crying?” It sounded from behind the garage door. Turbo lifted his head and looked up at where the sound came from. He didn’t answer, he instead looked down at himself, pulling out and examining his softening dick. “Turbooo, come with us, we could all use a drink after today.” It sounded again. Still, Turbo didn’t answer. His dick was smothered in a mix of his own cum and a bit of black residue from inside of the pipe. He spent a little bit just looking down at himself, the voice outside was gone, he presumed, and so he eventually got to cleaning again.