Accidental Driving Exposure

October 2020  When I arrive home from my office, my wife excitedly announced that she had arranged a long weekend trip to her parents’ vacation home in Miami.  Her folks would arrive at my home on Thursday to keep our two children.  After some discussion, she agreed to my two stipulations: One, we would take my truck for the seventeen-plus-hour drive.  Two, she had to bring one swimsuit, and I would get to pick it for her.  I chose her smallest string bikini, the one she uses for tanning.

Thursday arrived and we hit the road.  After so many months of quarantine, we had a great time together for the trip down.  We spent Friday and Saturday taking in all that Miami had to offer.  The weather was sunny both days, and we got up early and came in late.  When Sunday arrived, she wanted to spend the day on the beach. She had a few drinks during the day and, around six p.m., she had another at dinner while we talked about the all-night drive back home.

Once in the truck, my tipsy wife removed her t-shirt, then her bikini top, complaining of the all-over burn she’d sustained in the revealing bikini I’d chosen.  My wife is five foot eight and blonde with fair skin that now shone bright red everywhere except on her boobs, where a bright white triangle surrounded and contrasted with her soft pink nipples. Then she put her t-shirt back on, and we talked for the first hour of the drive.  When I stopped at a truckstop to fuel up both tanks, my wife went in to use the facilities, and as she returned to the truck, I watch her tits bounce. The air conditioning inside the building had her nipples erect.  I loved watching her walk braless, as did two men passing her.  They even looked back at her backside after walking by.

I took my turn in the bathroom and returned to the truck to find my wife reclined fully in the passenger seat.  Once on the road, she asked if I’d mind if she took a nap because the alcohol had hit her.

I replied, “Not at all,” and soon after, she started moving around.  She sat up and removed her t-shirt before lying back down and drawing it over herself.

“That’s better.”  She pulled down the top to reveal her boobs and asked, “Will this make your trip better?”

“Absolutely,” I replied.  I asked her whether she was concerned about being seen.

“We’re up too high for anyone to see inside, and it will be dark soon,” she said. (My truck is fully custom with a lift, but my windows have zero tint.)

As we travelled, I came upon a tractor trailer truck, and it was definitely tall enough for the driver to see her.  I reached over and tugged the shirt up over her as we passed, glancing up to see the truck driver’s eyes glued to the road.

Once we had gone by him, she grumpily asked why I covered her.

I said, “In case someone can see.”

She wasn’t mad, but responded in mock-anger. “Do you not like seeing my breast as you drive? I thought that might help you stay awake.”

I quickly replied, “That’s not it. I love it! I was just trying to be safe.”

She again asked if I cared whether she rode topless, because the shirt rubbed her burn when she lay down.

I replied that she could go full on topless for my enjoyment if she chose, and I would not wake her again.

“Really?” she replied, smiling.  She threw the t-shirt into the back seat.

“Are you comfortable now?” I asked.

My wife grinned and said, “Yes. Just enjoy the drive with your topless wife and don’t wake me unless you have to.”  I agreed.

We continued down the highway.  Any truckdriver with the ability to look over at my topless wife I passed at speed so if they did look, they’d only get a glimpse.  Until…

Maybe an hour later, I came upon three trucks in a row, all from the same trucking company and hauling flat bed trailers.  As I approached to go past, the last truck moved over in front of me to pass too.  I slowed down behind him to give him room to go by so I didn’t get stuck beside the cab of the next truck.

When he finally got past the next truck, I accelerated, and as I passed the cab of the second truck, I looked over.  The driver was facing forward, eating.  I did not see him look toward us as I passed.  But I had to slow behind the truck in front of me again, putting me just at the end of his hood and only crawling forward.

As I progressed forward, I saw the front driver looking back at us in his side mirror several times as we inched forward.  I slowed down as I came up beside his trailer, and he kept looking back.

Until the truck I was following made it past the hood of the front truck, I stayed in position.  I absolutely believe the first driver we passed saw my wife topless through the back passenger window and alerted the front driver.

My heart raced, and I had butterflies in my stomach as I tried to decide what to do.  The front driver was still looking back.  I remembered what my wife said and decided to just go.  I pulled forward and crawled slowly to his cab.  I look over at my topless wife; she was dead to the world, her right arm behind her head and the left on the console, fully exposing her in the fading light.

The driver looked back and down as I move forward, and in the mirror, I saw a big smile cross his face.  A few seconds later, I was directly beside his window.  The driver looked at me, pointed at my topless wife, and gave me the “OK” sign, smiling.  He had a full five or more seconds of viewing her tits as I passed, longer if he could see through the rear passenger window.  I assumed he could, because my seats recline flat.

The driver in front of me moved over, and forward I went.  He was also looking back in his mirror.  I absolutely believe that they talked to each other.  So as I slowly passed him, he got a good detailed look and gave me a thumbs up.

After passing, my heart was racing.  I looked over at my wife, and she had not moved.

Driving through the dark, who knows if some got a glimpse.  I drove at max speed to Orlando.  Orlando highways are lit up like Vegas.  I only had to slow beside one truck, and he also gave me a smile and appreciative hand gesture.

Skip all the way to Atlanta: I made it onto the loop without having to slow down in passing.  But a few miles before my exit,  we hit road construction.  Our side narrowed to two lanes.  As I merged right, I could see the end of the construction maybe a mile ahead, with traffic moving steadily.  I fell in line behind a tractor trailer truck.  With a taxi behind me, I was safe from view as I rode beside the trailer.  Most of the traffic was tractor trailers with a few cars.  We slowly move forward.

About ten to fifteen trucks ahead, I see workers escorting two pieces of equipment across the open lanes, bringing traffic to a stop.  Luckily, I ended up beside the trailer.

The construction site had lights mounted along the way that illuminated everything, including my truck.  I looked at my wife; she lay in the same position as before but with her right arm now at her side.  Several trucks moved past once the workers crossed, then traffic stalled again.  This time I stopped short with a gap in front, or I would have been cab-to-cab with an eighteen-wheeler.  I waited; only four trucks in front of us till we would clear the construction zone.

Now the devil got in my ear.  The first paver made it across, and I moved up, cab to cab.  I glanced over, and saw the driver, an elderly black gentleman with gray speckled hair, sitting face-forward.  I looked at my wife on full display in the lights.

After a few seconds, I saw the second paving machine cross into the work zone, followed by the two workers.  The driver was still facing forward and singing, I believe.  I think, “Well, he had a chance.”

Just as the first trucks lurched forward, the guy looked over.  He did a double take, looking down at my wife, and a big smile crossed his face.  He nodded, smiling at me, and I dipped my head in his direction.

We spent a good minute-plus getting up to speed.  He even allowed a large gap to open between him and the truck in front of him to stay beside us, watching.  I finally cleared the construction and sped around the remaining truck to easy traffic.

Nothing else happened until we approached the next city-circle and headed home.  Daybreak came, and my wife woke.  Still laying completely topless, she asked how I was doing.

“Great with the all-night view,” I answered.

She put on sunglasses and smiled. “Well, I’ll give you this view till we get on the highway home.”

It’s around 7 am, and we are approaching our exit to get on the highway headed home.  Pre-rushhour traffic has hit, and our exit is backing up.  My exit has one lane up the entrance ramp then a left to the overpass to the next highway.  It also has two lanes that go right to an overpass headed in the opposite direction.  Those two lanes had stopped completely.  My lane, though, is stop and go.  Luckily,  we are beside cars each time we stop.  I look up the ramp and think, “It would be perfect if we came to a stop up there by that big dump truck.”  Our lane would stop a few minutes, move several places, stop a second then move.  The other lanes were backed up to a complete stop.

The it happened: my wife, still lying topless with her right arm behind her head as a pillow, turned to look at me and talk about the trip.  We started moving slowly—five cars away, three cars.  At the bed of his truck, we moved forward at a snail’s pace.  I thought we would stop short of his window.  Nope.  Instead, we came to a halt directly beside his window.

In the morning light, the passenger windows perfectly framed and displayed wy wife’s beauty.  I look up and saw the driver casually look over at my truck, then down.  He too broke into a smile.  He was so close, I could count the number of missing front teeth in his smile.

My wife was still looking at me and talking.  After a long ten or fifteen seconds, she turned her head and looked out her window. After a second’s dumfounded pause, she started squealing while covering her boobs with her hands. He started laughing.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” She started panicking, while he just watched her, smiling.  “Where’s my shirt?”

“Somewhere in the back.”

Somewhat calmer, she whispers, “What about my bikini top?”

“At your feet somewhere.”

She sat up and wrapped her left arm across her left boob with her hand on her right.  Retrieving her top from the floor, she righted the reclined seat.  Plenty of her tits spilled over and bulged below the arm pressed across them, just no nipples.  She kept whispering for me to go, but we were stuck on the ramp.

“He’s still looking,” she hissed.

“I would too, with that much visible,” I told her.

She could do nothing.  It had only been a little over a minute, but it seemed forever to her.  She asked how long I thought she would be stuck like this.

I smiled and replied, “No idea. It might be accidents or construction.”  Again, I’m sure it felt like forever to her.

“Should I get in the back and put on my top?”

I smiled and said, “Sure, give the guy behind us a show too.”

She looked back and said, “Crap.”

I finally said, “If you want to put on the top, do it.  He has seen every detail of your tits for an extended time already.”

My wife paused, thinking.  She looked at me and asked, “Do you really think I should?”

“Well, he has already seen everything, so what’s the harm.”  She asked if I would be mad, and I laughed and said no. “If you do it, though, make sure you put it on like you do at home. It’s quite a show.”

She smiled at me. “I do that on purpose for your benefit,” she said.

“And it’s quite nice to see,” I assured her.

After a few more minutes’ consideration, she said, “Fine I’ll do it.”

“Including a show?” I asked.

She looked at me over her sunglasses, smiled, and said, “Only if you say so.”

“Absolutely,” I replied.

To my surprise, my wife looked at the driver, held up the bikini top. Then she put up one finger, as if to say, “Give me a second,” before moving her arm and hand from her tits.  She put the crumpled top in her lap and started to untangle it slowly.  Her pink nipples were as hard as I’d ever seen them, pointing straight at the front of my truck.

The driver kept looking at her, taking it all in.  As she worked with the top, her arm kept making her tits move, which was fantastic.  She then took two strings behind her neck, causing both tits to lift and point forward.  She had the cups slid way down the string, leaving her tits fully exposed.  As she was slowly tying, she whispered, “I guess I should do this,” and rotated her shoulders like she was having trouble with the top.  Our road-neighbor now had almost a full frontal of her tits and her hard-as-rock nipples.

My wife took her time.  She did the same thing, rotating towards him as she started tying the back and hiding nothing.  Then she sat back and casually covered each nipple with the cups.  When done, she waved at him.  He had a big, almost toothless smile, and gave her two thumbs up.  After another couple of minutes, we moved up and around.  Twenty minutes later, we were on the highway that led home.

After a long period of time, I asked if she was OK.  By now, she even had her T-shirt on, but we’d said nothing since.  She asked me if I thought purposefully exposing herself to that man made her trashy.  I laughed and said, “Absolutely not! You gave him enough visual memories to pleasure himself for years.”

She smiled, asking if I really thought that.

“One hundred percent,”  I said. “There’s no harm and no foul.  Did he complain?” She said no.  “If no one was hurt, then all is well.”

We discussed the incident more till she was comfortable with her behavior.  Later, she asked if I thought any other trucks saw her as she slept.  The rest of the way home, we talked and laughed as I recalled each occurrence.

She is now happy with the statement, “no harm, no foul.”