I Need A Driver’s License
Some years ago I was the one who determined the safety of motorists and pedestrians as it was I who gave the road test to our young first-time drivers. I was well aware of the lengths some potential drivers go thru to get that legal document – but was not aware of the absolute extent some would go to. You’ve got to read it to believe it. It happened to me and I STILL don’t believe it!
Hi there, this is something that – well, I’ve NEVER-EVER told anyone. Either it wouldn’t be believed – or I’d be in BIG trouble. So I thank you for this manner in which I can spill my guts. Now, this happened many years ago, I’ve been harboring it for a LONG time. It only happened once, but once was enough to last me a LIFETIME!
It came at the time I was working for the state, not an overly cushy job, just annoying. Annoying in the sense that I was the guy who determined the fate of pedestrians everywhere: I was the guy who road-tested America’s youth.
Sure they could pass the written part of the state exam but it was that pesky road test that was the kicker. Usually, most of the young first-time drivers were okay, and most passed well enough that I could breathe easy and walk the sidewalks without fear.
There were some that I have no idea how they even dressed without crashing to the floor! One particular incident I am here to share with you.
She was all of eighteen, just turned. She was cute, slender, preppy, perky, sixteen years young, pretty, and brunette. I dealt with a lot of brunettes and many blonds, most didn’t live up to the name of “dumb blond” although some did and sought to bring down the whole race. Brunettes were better.
Naturally, she had ACED the written exam portion – now came the fun part. She had one of those newer cars for teens like her, a Volkswagen Rabbit, convertible. A gift from her “daddy” who had bucks. The wealth of the potential driver did not impress me, I was here to do a job and do it well to the best of my ability. (Oh well, it sounded good.)
Yes I did note that she was pretty. Very pretty. The fact that she had brown hair did not upset or worry me. She smelled of Charlie, or one of the popular brands at the time. Very clean complexion, long narrow face, and very beautiful eyes. She was chipper and pleasing (very) to the eye. She did at least manage the hand signals, knew how to turn on the headlights and where the Brake was. But that was about all. How she had managed to get to this point of the exam I’ll never know. I had only to assume that her pure beauty had swayed those in charge of allowing her to acquire a permit.
And I can only assume that for that particular day she chose her short denim shorts on for a reason – to sway me. I wasn’t going to fall for it. The State paid well, it would take an act of Congress (or God) to get you fired from a State job. The benefits were good, hours, and pay. I need only put up with potential hazards to the road for a few hours a day – the rest of my time I was at my desk – doing nothing but playing cards on the computer while thirty people waited in line to be helped.
Long brown hair she had, straight without much style. Very clean skin, she smelled pretty, looked pretty, was pretty. A checked shirt and denim jacket – she was a very sweet girl, but a terrible driver.
The concept of coming to a full stop at a stop sign eluded her. As did proper road speed, parallel parking, proper lane changes, etc. Twice she ran over the curb while turning right, narrowly missing the light pole and mailbox.
She’s already failed the exam and we’re only on the road five minutes!
Turning right we’ve shot up a very shady area lined with these damned imported trees from Australia. Up to the top of the hill where I finally have her pull over and park it. She’s failed and I have to drive back to the DMV office – for MY safety as well as the public.
“Amanda” realizes that she has failed and all is lost. She begins to wail, “But I need a driver’s license!” of which I can sympathize – but to allow this vixen out on the public road every day!? I couldn’t.
So she began to wail. Wail and beg. I rattled off in retort the violations she had committed, her inability to be considerate of the other motorists and pedestrians, and so on. She assured me that she was just nervous and that I should give her another chance.
I couldn’t do that, either. Unlike her, I follow the rules and regs just like everybody else. So she tried a new ploy – crying. Now, I’ve had children, and a wife – I was used to crying and was well aware of the basic reasoning – it was a stratagem to get me to bow down and submit. I did not. I could not. I realized the distress this was causing the girl, to be a licensed driver was a big step in a young person’s life. But what sort of person would I be should I allow this carelessness to cruise the streets of Metropolis willy-nilly mowing down unsuspecting bicyclists, pedestrians, dogs, and old people who couldn’t move fast enough.
“I’ll do anything!” she wailed some more.
“It’s too late!” I told her empathetically. I had already voided her privileges and signed off on the green tabulation paper – I turned to tell her to get out as we were switching places as I would be driving us back to the DMV; when to my weary middle-aged eyes she had maneuvered shorts down towards her knees – exposing some new flesh.
Normally I didn’t pay too much attention to what the kids were wearing, some I just hung my head as to how could any parent allow their child to go out into public looking like they were destitute or ready for Street Walking.
I understood the pre-notion that Summertime meant less clothing, but some kids were ridiculous about it. I found this more so on girls than boys. Here, Amanda had maneuvered pulled her shorts down so’s I could see her panties.
I blinked. My mind began shutting down the normal processes of logical thought and stared at the new bare flesh. Nothing could be spoken, I gulped for air and watched reverently as more and more of her crisp white undies revealed themselves to me.
“I’ll do anything.” she spoke in a soft voice.
I looked to her, blinked, and strove to regain my senses. This had never happened before. Usually, the girl either sulked, pouted, tried to pay me off in money, got pissed off, got out, and stomped off for home. But never ever in my few short years as a road tester had anyone showed me skin.
Being the normal guy sure for certain I had gone home and dreamt about those girls who wore revealing clothing. To some of those girls yes I jerked my gherkin to, banged my wife with the girl’s image searing in my mind. But that was as far as it went.
The area we had come to park in was not overly secluded, it was up five hundred feet from the main cross street, entering into a moderate neighborhood of two-story homes. The eucalyptus trees line the street up until the first house. We had come to the park by a fire hydrant: city code 22514 violation. There was nothing (really) that I could do but stare as the teenage (heartthrob) continued to expose to me her absolute loveliness. She turned in her seat just so to bring her right leg up some — now giving me a muff shot. I felt the first strong stirrings from my loins.
There was nothing on the opposite side of the street; it curved to go straight into the moderate upscale neighborhood and there was just an open grassy area there. It was mid-afternoon, the sun was behind us, the air fresh with mixes of eucalyptus and city bus fumes.
“I really need a license,” she repeated in a soft alluring voice. My throat was swelling shut, mind shutting down, cock surging. This had never happened to me so my reaction was struggling to find itself proper. Amanda brought her knee up thusly allowing me absolute full viewing of her daintiness. It was almost more than I could stand. A nice tight muff bulge, white panties with yellow daisies.
She shook her head to clear some loose strands of her pretty blond hair, gave me a look of…of… A brief smile (of wickedness) and began undoing the buttons to her white blouse. Again, there was naught I could do but sit and watch in utter anticipation.
With her blouse undone she pouched out her chest and undone her bra, releasing those magnificent orbs of mankind delight. So young, so round, so pleasing to the eye. Small B cup, a handful, and eyeful. My balls scrunched up tight within my brown slacks, my cock was already beginning to spurt.
Amanda leaned forward across her seat seemingly offering me a fondle. Far down the street, I could see the mail truck. Looking back behind us down the eucalyptus leave strewn road I waited for a city cop car to pull in off of the main street.
But none did.
Amanda took her hand to mine and placed it onto her bare flesh. No words could describe then or now that feeling. My mind simply blanked out and emotions of the illicit kind stepped in. The skin was soft, smooth, and supple. My fingers poised about the mound before lightly tweaking (squeezing) the nipple, then I moved to the other. Amanda seemed to be experiencing an orgasm over this, closing her eyes and moaning ever so lightly. She arched her back and jiz began to soil my underwear.
My clipboard and paperwork fell away to the floor as Amanda leaned down and began fondling my hardness. I blinked my eyes and was completely blitzed. This wasn’t happening. This simply fucking wasn’t happening. Not to me! It was unheard of, impossible, incredible, incredulous. (and not entirely unheard of – it WAS happening, to other people, in Minneapolis, Miami, St. Louis, Portland (OR) and Dallas.
But not in Suburbia. I couldn’t recall in the DMV history of my hometown anything of the like occurring here. I was making new ground, bold new steps in becoming a statistic.
Amanda had spent a few seconds with her mouth against my hard dick, sucking my shaft through my slacks. She paused only momentarily to undo those slacks and fish out my schlong. And I did nothing to stop her. (Hell, if I was going to go to jail I might as well make it for something worthwhile!).
Her mouth came expertly over my organ, it was already exploding in delight but she skillfully cleaned up all the previous spillage before engulfing the head. Her tongue danced about the ultra-sensitive crown before diddling into the piss slit. Thereafter she went ALL the way down to the musty fuzzy base and began power-sucking me.
I clutched at the outside of the door, mind totally off-line, eyes darting madly to search for the cop car and mail truck. With none in sight, I looked down to see Amanda quietly (albeit noisily) sucking me off.
With her blouse already “loose” my hand on its own began caressing her backside. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been sucked – if at all. It felt good, lemme tell ya. Damn good. She placed one hand at the base and squeezed, her other hand inside my trousers to clutch at my fuzzies.
Peering down her backside I could see the hem of her panties. My hand went sliding down to the small of her back, slipping inside her skirt and panties. Amanda moved to reposition herself, rising up some so as my trembling hand could go down into the girl more. Amanda undid her still fastened skirt – never leaving the suck job she was doing to my schlong, however.
She and I both worked her skirt down to now fully expose her lily-white ass. The skin was incredibly smooth, my finger came to her bunghole and I doubted it had ever been breached. I semi doubted that she was virginal, but I could be wrong. I would have never guessed that she could give such wondrous head, either! An orgasm was coming. Soon. Amanda smacked off of my cock and sat up, licking her lips, sweating some. Her nipples were hard and her pretty eyes glistening. With my mind on the fritz, there was nothing I could do but sit there and look stupefied.
Amanda almost broke her calm angelic face with a smile, but it segued into a somewhat wicked persona as she continued to work down her shorts and panties.
I was hers to command and control. When she began trying to work my slacks down I finally lent a hand and helped, working them down to my ankles and laying back in the seat. Amanda came to straddle me and guided my bone into her hot pussy.
It was more than I could believe. This just was incredible and not happening. My hands cupped her pillowy ass as she rode me; she arched her back as every inch of my cock upped up into her sex. No longer was I in control of my body, we both shuddered as the first wave of orgasmic pleasures filled us.
Amanda’s breasts were a secondary delight for me and I partook of each one, nipping the nipples and feeling orgasmic juices pooling beneath my nut sack. Amanda gyrated on me, my hands griped tenaciously her lovely ass, fingering her pooter hole and driving my aching bone into her teenage sex as fast as I possibly could.
The girl gripped me, the seat; she rocked and bucked and made sexual moans and groans before she began to clench tightly her ass and pussy as she herself began to experience that glory of glories. I felt my cock spurting jiz into the girl, my cock strained and the toes in my shoes curled.
Amanda began to buck like a rabbit, the sensations were too much to be believed. I gave a final squirt and felt the sudden departure of energy. The teenager continued to pump on my quickly going flaccid cock, grinding against me and seriously soiling the fabric seat. She lay into sighing and seemingly almost going to sleep. As was I.
Our interlude was broken by the sound of the mail truck making a “U” turn to service the other homes. It hadn’t come close, but I had. I began gulping for air like a fish out of water. Amanda slid off of me and back into her proper seat, fingering her torrid pussy. Beneath me was a small pool of our mixed juices. I fondled my balls and aching cock and then felt embarrassed.
Amanda pulled herself together and buttoned her shirt, but hadn’t refastened her bra. My slacks and undies came into place, but I needed a shower – and some therapy. Amanda’s shorts came up but not her panties, she wiped down her dainty faceable non-virginal pussy and handed me the soiled garment. She was smiling slyly now. I held the offering and stared, my mind still off-line burped – “Put it in your pocket, stupid!”
After a few more minutes we had sufficiently gathered ourselves.
“So did I pass?” Amanda quipped.
All I could do was nod my head, “Yes.”
By the week’s end I had resigned and moved on.