Fake Driving School nervous black filled up by her teacher in the car

“The Driving Instructor’s Lesson in Depravity”

The humid afternoon air hung heavy in the car, almost suffocating. Marissa, a slim, ebony-skinned 18-year-old, fidgeted nervously in the passenger seat, her petite frame tense. Behind the wheel sat Mr. Evans, her stoic driving instructor, a man approaching his 50s, his hairline receding but his eyes sharp.

“You’re doing well, Marissa,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “Just relax.”

Marissa swallowed hard, her eyes darting to the side mirror. She knew these back roads like the back of her hand, but with Mr. Evans’ intense gaze fixed on her, she felt like a learner again.

“Remember, the key is to be present,” Mr. Evans continued, “to feel the road beneath the tires, the steering wheel in your hands.” His hands suddenly appeared, covering hers, guiding them firmly on the wheel. Marissa’s breath hitched.

In one swift motion, Mr. Evans reached over, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Safety first, huh?” he quipped, his eyes glinting mischievously. Before Marissa could react, he inserted a key into the ignition, switching off the engine. The car rolled to a jarring stop, throwing Marissa forward. Mr. Evans caught her, his hand lingering on her bare thigh, her short shorts offering little protection.

“Mr. Evans,” Marissa gasped, struggling to sit up. He hovered over her, his ample weight pinning her down. “I think we should head back… I’m not feeling too good.”

“You’re not leaving until you’ve passed this test,” he growled, his breath hot on her face. His hand slid higher, fingers tracing the hem of her shorts. Marissa squirmed, trying to push him away, but her efforts only seemed to egg him on. In one swift motion, he ripped her shorts off, baring her curvy thighs to the humid air.

“P-please,” Marissa whimpered, tears pooling in her eyes. “I’ll fail… I’ll tell everyone…”

Mr. Evans chuckled darkly, his hand caressing her inner thigh. “No one will believe you,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck. “In fact, they’ll call you a liar, a tease. Just like all those other girls.” His fingers dug into her flesh painfully, lifting her leg. Marissa gasped as cold metal pressed against her bare privates.

“W-what are you doing?” she stammered, terror gripping her heart. Mr. Evans simply smirked, keying the engine back to life. “Just a little insurance,” he purred, revving the engine. The car lurched forward, the vibration coursing through Marissa’s body.

The turmoil in Marissa’s mind was profound as she guided the car obediently down the road. One hand gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white, the other tentatively touched the metal object nestled between her legs. Every pothole and bump sent shivers of fear through her body, the contraption seeming to grow and throb, threatening to impale her with its sheer size.

“That’s it, keep going,” urged Mr. Evans, his weight suddenly heavy in the seat beside her. Marissa could feel his eyes religiously glued to her lap, taking in her discomfort. When she finally pulled back into the school parking lot, she felt more relieved than ever. Maybe this nightmare was finally over.

But Mr. Evans had other plans. He opened the car door, pulling Marissa by the arm. “You haven’t passed yet,” he snarled, tossing her against the side of the car. Marissa cried out as the metal bit into her flesh, the object between her legs vibrating with renewed intensity.

Mr. Evans towered over her, his body pressing her against the cool metal. “I’m going to have you right here,” he growled, his hands roaming her body, caressing her breasts, squeezing them roughly. Marissa clenched her eyes shut, her mind grappling with the horror of the situation.

Suddenly, a nearby car’s horn blared, jolting Mr. Evans out of his lustful haze. He looked around, realizing they had an audience. With a growl of discontent, he released Marissa, who scurried away, her knees wobbling.

Marissa stumbled out of the parking lot, rushing to her car. Tears streamed down her face as she fumbled with the keys, her hands shaking uncontrollably. As she threw the car into reverse, a sudden realization hit her. She wasn’t alone. She whipped her head around to see Mr. Evans’ car following closely behind.

The chase was on. Marissa hit the accelerator, tires squealing as she floored it down the road. Mr. Evans was close behind, his headlights blinding her as she strained to see the winding road ahead. She took a sharp curve, the car fishtailing dangerously. But soon, the blue lights and sirens of a police car washed over the car, its sirens blaring a warning.

With a heavy heart, Marissa pulled the car to the side, the police car screeching to a stop behind her. As the officers approached, she could see the smug grin on Mr. Evans’ face. “She’s been driving under the influence,” he called out, pointing accusingly at Marissa. The officers exchanged glances, their expressions grim.

Marissa could feel her world crumbling around her, the weight of Mr. Evans’ manipulation threatening to crush her spirit completely. As the officers yanked her out of the car and placed her in handcuffs, she caught a glimpse of Mr. Evans driving away, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

With a heavy heart, Marissa realized that her innocence was gone, replaced by the harsh reality of the predator that preyed upon vulnerable young women. The driving academy had become a battleground, and she, its latest victim, had been defeated.