The Racing Falcon by Rev Me

Brad was my best buddy. He was 22, sporting long dark blonde hair, and impossible blue eyes that always lit up even brighter when I made a dick of myself or said something goofy. Well they lit up like the stars the nite I told him I got turned on watchin his foot working a car's accelerator pedal.

We had built a race car. Nothin too fancy. Just a bomber to have fun and compete in a few dirt track races. He was a mechanic and after work each day would come back to my place to work on the beast. Man it was heaven watchin him pull up and get out of his 4x4. He would be in his dark blue overalls and big heavy size 11 work boots. We stripped all the interior, another buddy welded up the race cage, and after two weeks solid of afternoon and weekend work we had what we hoped was a winner. The car was an Aussie Icon, an old Ford XT Falcon with a 289 V8 and auto shift on the column. We had found it for sale a few months earlier and decided that this was gonna be fun. The gas pedal was missing so I bought one of those goofy surfer pedals, u know the ones cast outa alloy in the shape of a big foot. Brads work boot would cover the pedal and the day I was waitin for soon arrived. We had to check out the engine to make sure it was not gonna blow after a few big revs. We had run it previously but couldn't give it too hard a time cause of a crook fuel pump, but this afternoon Brad was to fit the new one and, well, boys will be boys.

It was nearly dark and still no sign of Brad. This day had taken forever to get thru and I was just about to close the shed door and go back up to the house when I heard Brads truck revvin' hard up our track. He handbraked to a stop in front of me, and I could tell he was not happy about somethin'.

"Sorry I'm late, mate," he yelled thru the dust. "Had a prick of a day today and am lookin' forward to releasing some frustration, hey". His eyes were on the 289 with the raised bonnet and he smiled at me in a way that made my cock go hard, even without a single rev of that engine. "Your folks home?" he asked. "Cause this could get pretty noisy." I smiled back and said nope they are away for the weekend, then walked over and grabbed the flexi light so we could get to work. I already had the back end jacked up for him and whilst he set about changing the pump, I started replacing the old black engine oil with some new brew. I grinned as I read the line, "able to withstand high temperatures and high operating RPMs" on the pack. Minutes felt like hours then I heard him slide out from underneath the car and lower the trolly jack. All done.

"Lets see what this engine can do," Brad smiled, as he walked over to the the driver's door. All the doors had to be welded shut for racing but Brad had been slack and not completed that task. I was already in the car, eyes focusing on the big alloy surfer foot pedal which, with the help of Brads hot boot, was gonna give this V8 a good revvin'. "What u doin," I yelled, as I was gettin' kinda impatient now. My shorts could not hide the massive bulge and my groin throbbed with anticipation. "Just gettin outta these overalls," was the reply. "Much better," he said, as he took the driver seat. He was in a t-shirt and football shorts now, but still with those oil stained work boots and white Nike socks.

His right foot didn't take long to find the gas pedal and he crushed it to the floor with a metalic, in your face kinda thud. He held it flat for about 20 seconds, then started to pump it, long, slow to the floor, then half-throttle to the floor openings. His hand went for the starter and precum filled my jocks. The motor turned over slow then quickened and burst into life. Better let it warm up first, he smiled, as I watched his boot tickling and teasing the motor. Bringing it up in revs to half throttle quickly, then letting it idle down. The exhaust exited thru big mufflers on either side of the car just in front of the back wheels so I took my eyes off his boot for a while and watched the pipe on my side. The pipe was about two and a half inches in diameter, and was blowin' a dirty black haze from Brad's small warm up revs.

"Enough teasin'", I said, "let's get into it." Brad nodded and he nailed his boot to the floor. The motor stalled. "So u think u are the boss here, hey?" Brad swore, and pumped the gas pedal with sickeningly hard thrusts as he hit the starter. The motor burst into life coughing and backfiring thru the exhaust. Brad was really pissed off and I did not know where to look. His boot was threatening to smash the alloy pedal in two with the hard pumps he was givin' to it and the exhaust was going crazy with thick jet black smoke belching from the engine's guts. His foot went to the floor again with another thud and this time the motor did not stall. It revved in agony, the car rockin' from side to side as he held his foot to the floor, five seconds, ten seconds, twenty seconds, the black thick smoke was clearing to a rusty grey mass as he now lifted his foot a few millimetres. I listened in awe to that small block motor's pain. Brad was in control now, his foot crushing the pedal to the metal in rapid pumps. Then he nailed it again, flat out, the engine roared past redline then shot sparks from its exhaust as the engines valves bounced and the pistons threatened to make an exit thru the bonnet. Brad just smiled and released his foot pressure on the gas and revved it quickly from half to full throttle, the car rocked from side to side as the revs pounded then relaxed. "Yeah, it should be kewl," he said and let the motor run down to an idle. "Bet you wish you could get what the car just got, hey," he smiled. "And you probably thought me a slacker for not welding the doors up, hey, but well thought you might enjoy tryin' something."

His eyes had that stary intensity again, and for once I did not know what to say back. He got out of the car and lifted the driver's door off its hinge and dropped it to the ground. "Thought they were sposed to stay on the car," I asked, sensing something big was gonna happen. I watched him place a wide board on a drum and the other end on the cars floorboard. "Christ my feet are hot and sticky, gonna have to air em," and with that he leaned over and started undoing his long boot laces. "If you can get that cock of yours on this pedal I will give you and this engine a revvin' you never will forget," he teased. I needed no second invitation. I was out of the car in a sec, stripped and back in by the time he had his other boot off, and was now busy squirming 'round the footwell getting into probably the weirdest position of my life but, hey, this was kewl. Like a bizzare game of Twister I was finally in place. My still rock hard cock throbbed against the wide, cold alloy surfer pedal, but even better, I soon discovered, with my head out the door I was at eye level with the driver's side pipe.

I thought I was in a dream, this was gonna be so kewl. Brad could only stop laughing long enought to ask if I was okay. And to say somthing about how he wished he had a camera, but I didn't care. I was at one with the car. The engine stopped, then suddenly I felt his socked foot on my cock. It was so hot and moist as it slid down my shaft into the ultimate reving position. "Just checkin to see how much throttle travel I have," he laughed, "want to make sure I can still floor it without hurting you." And with that, he increased his foot pressure on my cock. I felt at one with the pedal and he slowly pushed downward, 1/4 throttle, 1/2 throttle he would call out, 3/4 and he held it there for about 30 seconds just pumping between half and 3/4 before he once again slambed it down to the floor. I arched up and nearly fell off his makeshift arrangement not in pain but in sheer pleasure, the contrast between his hot revvin' foot and the cold alloy pedal was enought to nearly make me shoot. But the best was yet to come.

"You kewl?" came his voice again and I managed to let out an eager yeah. I felt his foot push half throttle then pump from half to the floor in long slow pumps. He held us to the floor and I heard the starter engage. The motor caught and still Brad kept us both to the floor. The noise was deafening. Here I was about 2 feet away from the right hand pipe at eye level, and, well, the view was much better down here. My cock was being thrust harder and harder against the alloy pedal and with the combination of engine vibrations from the revving and the warm foot which was pumping me to a frenzy, it was only a matter of time before I was gonna blow. Again and again I felt Brad's foot push to the floor and hold. This motor was sure strong and I waited for Brad to let up the pressure on both of us. But it didn't happen. He kept us both nailed hard and fast to the floor. The car started to rock from side to side from the ground-pounding revs and the exhaust put on a massive show. Mixed amongst the billowing smoke were flashes of orange sparks, small at first but now growing increasingly larger. The engine started to miss. I knew no engine could withstand this sorta abuse for long but I did not care because I felt my cock spasiming from the engine vibrations and the hot warm foot that was pushing down from above. I felt myself starting to blow, and with that Brad released the pressure on both of us, revving us now in time with my shots of hot cum making a puddle on the drivers side footwell. I was stuffed I had never felt such intensity before. I felt Brad's foot lift off my cock and the engine settled down to a smooth creamy idle. Then he killed the motor. In the sudden silence, I pulled myself out of the car. Looking up at Brad I was well kinda surprised. He was leaning back in the seat smiling at me, his cock still in hand, and his cum clinging in large droplets down the front of his t-shirt.

None of my other mates could figure out why we never raced that car. I just told them the car did not pass pre-race inspection. Wonder if it could have been something to do with those doors I never let Brad weld up?