Behind the Wheel

"Coach, please stop. I came here to learn how to drive, not to have an affair."

Inside the instructor's car, because I kept failing to control the clutch, Coach Reeves, who happened to be my husband's friend, made me sit on his lap to teach me.

The problem was, I was wearing a short skirt that day, and underneath it, I wasn't even wearing safety shorts.

Even worse, he actually pulled his member out and pressed it straight against me.

My name is Winnie Miller. Recently, my company required frequent business trips, so I decided to get a driver's license.

It just so happened that my husband's friend, Logan Reeves, was a driving instructor. He said he wouldn't charge me for lessons.

On the day of practice, my husband, Daniel Miller, told me to dress nicely. After all, a wife’s appearance is often seen as a reflection of her husband.

I thought about it for a moment and put on the tight, short skirt Daniel had bought for me. It hugged my curves closely, outlining my full, round hips. The fullness of my chest swayed as I walked, rippling like water.

Daniel stared, his eyes practically glued to me as he praised me again and again. "Good, good, good! You look amazing in that. Logan is going to be so jealous."

I shot him an annoyed look. "Aren't you worried some other man might set his sights on your wife?"

After pulling on my stockings, I headed to the driving school.

When I reached Logan's car, I bent down and knocked on the window. "Coach Logan, I'm here for my driving lesson."

Logan rolled the window down, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

I lowered my head and immediately realized why. When I bent over, my skirt had ridden up, exposing a large patch of fair skin. I quickly covered myself with my hand.

"You're Winnie, right? Get in. Daniel is my buddy. I'll make sure to teach you properly. I guarantee you'll pass in one go."

After I sat in the passenger seat, he patted my thigh.

"Watch carefully. Left foot presses here, right foot releases. When the car starts to shake, that's the friction point, the half-clutch. Come over and try it."

After stepping on the clutch, I couldn't control the pressure properly and stalled the car.

I tried several times, but it stalled every time.

Logan couldn't watch anymore. He grew impatient and directly placed one hand on my thigh.

I didn't know if it was my imagination, but his broad palm seemed to deliberately rub against my stockinged thigh. My nerves instantly tightened.

"I'll teach you how to control the pressure. When I press with my hand, you release the brake."

The closeness only made me more nervous.

I hesitated and said, "Coach, this isn't appropriate. My husband is your close friend. Touching my leg like this..."

He laughed loudly. "What's there to be afraid of? I'm only anxious to teach you well because of Daniel. I'm