I had even better fun on the roads with Lee.
Being a school teacher, she had the summers off. She told me to drop by the house whenever I wanted driving lessons, so that’s what I did.
The first time out, she told me to get behind the wheel of her big old pickup truck. She sat in the passenger seat, gave me a few instructions, and off we went. Their house was near the edge of town, so we didn’t need to worry much about traffic. Good thing, too. Even though the driving part of the operation turned out to be easy, I did have trouble keeping my eyes on the road.
That’s because Lee was a knockout.
You take a lot of beautiful women, they’re shits. But not Lee. She was down-to-earth, friendly and funny. I’d say that she was just a normal person, but she wasn’t. She was better than normal people. Way better. She didn’t seem to know it, though.
When we went driving, she usually wore shorts. Not cut-off jeans, but real shorts. They might be red or white or blue or yellow or pink, but they were always very short and tight. She had great legs. They were tanned and smooth and very hard to keep my eyes away from.
On top, she might wear a T-shirt or a knit pullover or a short-sleeved blouse. Sometimes, when she wore a regular blouse or shirt, I could look between the buttons and catch glimpses of her bra. I tried not to do it often, though.
Mostly, I just stole glances at her legs.
I would’ve tried to sneak looks at her face, too—it was a terrific face—but I could look at that without being sneaky about it.
The first afternoon out with Lee, I learned how to drive. I didn’t really need any more lessons after that. She knew it and I knew it, but we kept it to ourselves. Two or three times a week, for the rest of the summer, I went over to her house and we took off in the truck.
While I drove us through towns and over back roads, we talked about all sorts of stuff. We shared secrets, complained about my parents, discussed our worries and our favorite movies, laughed. We laughed a lot.
It was almost like being on a fabulous date with the most beautiful girl in town. Almost. What made it different from a date was that I held no hope of ever having any sexual contact with her. I mean, you can’t exactly fool around with your brother’s wife. Also, she was ten years older than me. Also, she was out of my league entirely.
All I could do was look.
Lee knew I was sneaking glances at her while I drove, but it didn’t seem to bother her. Usually, if she noticed, she didn’t mention it. Sometimes, though, she said stuff like, “Watch out, we’re coming up on a curve,” or “Don’t forget about the road entirely.” She was always cheerful when she said such things, but I always blushed like crazy. I’d mutter, “I’m sorry” and she would say, “Don’t worry about it. Just don’t crash.”
Then one day I crashed.
For some reason, Lee wasn’t wearing a bra that day. Maybe they were all in the wash. Maybe she was too hot. Who knows? Whatever the reason, I noticed it the moment she walked out of her house. Nothing showed through her bright red blouse, but her breasts seemed to be moving about more than usual. They were loose underneath the blouse, no doubt about it.
After noticing that, I tried to keep my eyes away from her chest as much as possible.
Maybe ten minutes later, I was driving along a narrow road through the woods, Lee in the passenger seat, when I finally just had to look.
I glanced over at her.
Between two buttons of her blouse, the fabric was pursed like vertical, parted lips. Looking in, I could see the side of her right breast. Her bare breast, smooth and pale in the shadows. Not very much of it actually showed—a crescent maybe half an inch wide, at most.
But much too much.
All of a sudden, I couldn’t hear a word Lee was saying. I kept steering us along the road, smiling and nodding and turning my head to look at her—first at her face to make sure she wasn’t watching me,
Being a school teacher, she had the summers off. She told me to drop by the house whenever I wanted driving lessons, so that’s what I did.
The first time out, she told me to get behind the wheel of her big old pickup truck. She sat in the passenger seat, gave me a few instructions, and off we went. Their house was near the edge of town, so we didn’t need to worry much about traffic. Good thing, too. Even though the driving part of the operation turned out to be easy, I did have trouble keeping my eyes on the road.
That’s because Lee was a knockout.
You take a lot of beautiful women, they’re shits. But not Lee. She was down-to-earth, friendly and funny. I’d say that she was just a normal person, but she wasn’t. She was better than normal people. Way better. She didn’t seem to know it, though.
When we went driving, she usually wore shorts. Not cut-off jeans, but real shorts. They might be red or white or blue or yellow or pink, but they were always very short and tight. She had great legs. They were tanned and smooth and very hard to keep my eyes away from.
On top, she might wear a T-shirt or a knit pullover or a short-sleeved blouse. Sometimes, when she wore a regular blouse or shirt, I could look between the buttons and catch glimpses of her bra. I tried not to do it often, though.
Mostly, I just stole glances at her legs.
I would’ve tried to sneak looks at her face, too—it was a terrific face—but I could look at that without being sneaky about it.
The first afternoon out with Lee, I learned how to drive. I didn’t really need any more lessons after that. She knew it and I knew it, but we kept it to ourselves. Two or three times a week, for the rest of the summer, I went over to her house and we took off in the truck.
While I drove us through towns and over back roads, we talked about all sorts of stuff. We shared secrets, complained about my parents, discussed our worries and our favorite movies, laughed. We laughed a lot.
It was almost like being on a fabulous date with the most beautiful girl in town. Almost. What made it different from a date was that I held no hope of ever having any sexual contact with her. I mean, you can’t exactly fool around with your brother’s wife. Also, she was ten years older than me. Also, she was out of my league entirely.
All I could do was look.
Lee knew I was sneaking glances at her while I drove, but it didn’t seem to bother her. Usually, if she noticed, she didn’t mention it. Sometimes, though, she said stuff like, “Watch out, we’re coming up on a curve,” or “Don’t forget about the road entirely.” She was always cheerful when she said such things, but I always blushed like crazy. I’d mutter, “I’m sorry” and she would say, “Don’t worry about it. Just don’t crash.”
Then one day I crashed.
For some reason, Lee wasn’t wearing a bra that day. Maybe they were all in the wash. Maybe she was too hot. Who knows? Whatever the reason, I noticed it the moment she walked out of her house. Nothing showed through her bright red blouse, but her breasts seemed to be moving about more than usual. They were loose underneath the blouse, no doubt about it.
After noticing that, I tried to keep my eyes away from her chest as much as possible.
Maybe ten minutes later, I was driving along a narrow road through the woods, Lee in the passenger seat, when I finally just had to look.
I glanced over at her.
Between two buttons of her blouse, the fabric was pursed like vertical, parted lips. Looking in, I could see the side of her right breast. Her bare breast, smooth and pale in the shadows. Not very much of it actually showed—a crescent maybe half an inch wide, at most.
But much too much.
All of a sudden, I couldn’t hear a word Lee was saying. I kept steering us along the road, smiling and nodding and turning my head to look at her—first at her face to make sure she wasn’t watching me,
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