#phone hacking

max is like... quicksand.

the more gp tries to escape, the more he reels him in. it's not intentional he doesn't think. max is just a person that stands close to people and makes eye contact and is blunt and honest. it's the reason that when max says he'll retire if gp does, he believes him. they win races together and they win the championship together and they keep going. they win more. they're a winning machine.

cora laughs whenever they're asked about it. her husband and her husband's husband. she teases him about the late night calls from max and the dreams gp has that clearly have him saying max's name.

she confronts him about it in the early stages of 23, when they're winning more than expected and the calls are every day. asks to answer his phone when 'max' calls - cora is abrupt, snatching his phone from the counter and saying, "I think I'll talk to max today,"

obviously she's expecting gp to panic and take the phone back, but when he shrugs and lets her, she's appeased. pretends to max like gp is in the bathroom and then chats to him for a few minutes, says, "he's back now love, I'll pass you over,"

gp kisses her cheek, takes the phone and walks out of the room. cora is relieved, he can tell. gp isn't having an affair. not physically, at least. it's not her fault she puts the idea in his head.

he starts to notice things, after that. how max looks in the light. sweaty post-race with balaclava marks etched into his cheeks. winning. winning and winning and winning. max and gp against the world.

going into the summer, max says, "where will you be? I don't want to disturb you if you're going on holiday,"

gp shrugs, pulls him into a hug and says, "if you need me, call me. call me even if you don't need me,"

they've had each other's locations for a while, since 21 when max was concussed and denying it and gp got scared. he doesn't think max knows that the app can be manipulated. not by everyone, but. by someone who knows fairly basic coding. by gp.

he tracks max to the padel court and back home. has the image of sweaty max post-workout. sits in his office while cora is out somewhere - brunch, he thinks - and pulls up the live feed from the app. pings it over to the plasma on the far wall. there's twenty minutes of rustling, of noises that indicate max is playing with the cats, drinking water. and then.

jackpot.

music starting up, some nostalgia feed that max pretends not to be a fan of. his phone being rested on a stand in his plush monaco bathroom. max, stripping out of his gym kit, hair mussed and skin glowing.

max, pissing and showing his perky, fuzzy ass to gp. max, giving himself a one-two-shake and keeping going, cock half hard as he walks to the shower and turns the handle. the water runs and max steps under the rainfall head, sighing and tilting his head back.

he sends thanks to the extractor fan that's stronger than his own morals, keeping the glass shower wall unbothered by steam and letting him watch as max-

fuck.

letting him watch as max slicks his fingers and props his leg up on the bench seat, opening himself up. his dick is hard in his trousers, and he presses his palm to the bulge as max starts to jack his cute little dick again.

it's so- fuck. cute and hot and- jesus. gp doesn't have time to feel bad, not when his boy is louder than the music, moaning and writhing on his own fingers. god, he can't help but imagine getting max on his dick.

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life goes on. summer is slow and sleepy, fleeting opportunities for gp to be alone with an unaware max, watching him and wanting him.

the season goes on, and max and gp keep winning. they win and win and win, and they take the wdc with max's girlfriend right there in the paddock. that's fine. that's good.

it's theirs still. it is. max says it is.

he needs gp just as intensely over the winter. max calls him late one night, later for max, and says, he's broken things off with her. he asked her to peg him and- "sorry, gp, do you mind talking about this? I just- I trust you the most of course,"

he asked her to peg him and she wouldn't, couldn't understand why he would want that, called him awful things max won't repeat but- "am I really bad for wanting that, gp? am I-"

gp can't resist, telling him, "no maxy, no, you're not bad," but he's hard in his pajama shorts imagining his boy riding him, desperate and split wide open. he comes when max starts to cry, quiet sniffles and a little broken sob that could be him coming if he pushes his imagination hard enough.

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in the end, it's undeniable. lots of near misses, cora finding him with his dick in his hand in his office but he's managed to tuck the recording away. but then. then. their anniversary, gp taking her for a nice meal and taking her home, cora saying she has a treat for him, letting him fuck her rough and dirty. thumb tucked into her hole as he gives it to her from behind, clenching around him, making him come.

making him come with a shout of 'fuck, max,' that betrays exactly who he wasn't thinking about 15 years to the day of their marriage.

she asks for the divorce and he gives it to her. quietly, he tells christian to delay the promotion so she doesn't get her hands on the bonus that comes with it. a few days after they've signed and settled, he takes the job.

head of racing. he still belongs to max, though. the way max had fought for him was ego-boosting. nice. hot. his vicious boy, hoarding his race engineer fiercely.

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"you can bring cora, next week? come to monaco, we can go out on the yacht,"

gp smirks, shakes his head.

"divorced now, maxy. no cora to bring,"

max's dick-sucking lips pop open, plush and biteable. he's shocked, of course, gp had kept it quiet.

he's been watching max, still. seen the guests he's brought back, the wild nights he's had. no one permanent, not yet.

"just you, then. you can come,"

he nods, asks, "who else is coming?"

"well I of course thought we could just have some quality time," max tells him, blushing and pretty.

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"do you mind if I sunbathe without my-" awkwardly, max gestures at his little shorts. gp shakes his head, says, "nah mate, you got for it," and tucks his mirrored sunnies back over his eyes.

he's already facing in max's direction, so he gets a private show. a willing one, this time. max shimmying his little trunks down, kicking them away and sliding back onto the white padded bench.

gp's mouth is watering. watching max's cute little dick, small and soft and unbothered. the way it moves with max and settles against the curve of his thigh. his legs are hinged open, so he gets a view of his plump balls too, fuzzy like his ass and tucked tight to his body. cute. cute cute cute.

max's eyes are white hot on his skin, but he plays it cool, he thinks. pretends he's not getting hard watching his boy so close-up. and then. then max is too. little dick pointing to the sky, drooling pre already. desperate little thing.

his boy's voice is low when he says, "your viewing time really drains my battery,"

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the live-action show is much better. much, much better.

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when max retires and gp kisses him in parc ferme, cora comments a laughing emoji on the f1 instagram post.

Second, I'm an old computer nerd cat. Back in the early '90s, I was a phone phreak - a phone hacker back before mobile phones and even alphanumeric pagers were a thing. It was in these days that "Ma Bell" (Southwestern Bell) was a big Queen on the scene, in her prime.

What were common phreaker practices back in the day? Well, it was all about exploration and curiosity. We would wardial (using our home landline connections and modems to dial a huge list of numbers in a row to try and find systems on the other end rather than regular phones - I'd leave it on all day and come back with a shorter list of various systems to dial in and play around on), we would build blue (and other color) boxes from RadioShack parts to use payphones to make free calls and do all sorts of rad tricks, we would prank folks that deserved it or use said tricks to disrupt schools and business, we would navigate voicemail systems and change automatic messages, and we would generate credit card numbers (which was incredibly easy back in the day) to make free calls to our first girlfriends in Canada. Well, that last one was mostly a me thing, haha.

Basically, payphones and early phone systems were a wonderful, incredible playground for me and I have SO many fond memories of these times. To have a book like this in my hands feels like I just looked inside the Ark of the Covenant and instead of melting my face off, it just glowed real bright and whistled a 2600hz tone sweetly into my ears.

This has so many cool photos like the ones above, and lots of radical technical diagrams, too.

As a bonus, there are hand-typed notes from a division head telephone engineer that wrote about systems they were building in Galveston, TX in the '60s:

Anyways, this is such a cool relic and I'll probably not be able to bring myself to sell it.

Did you know I wrote a verse about being a phreaker for a song with Nerdcore legend YTCracker wayyyyyy back in 2010? Well, now you do. You can hear that here (I'm the second dude, of course):