"Nah, I'm good, promise!" I laughed, wobbling slightly as I waved off my friends' drunken protests. The sidewalk felt uneven under my strappy heels, or maybe that was just the vodka red-bulls talking. "Taxi's already here. Text you when I'm home, yeah?"
The taxi door swung open with a sticky squeak, releasing a wave of warm air thick with the musky sting of old deodorant losing its battle against body odor. I slid into the passenger seat without hesitation, my bare thighs sticking slightly to the cracked vinyl. The driver, balding, mid-forties, with a sweat-stained polo shirt clinging to his shoulders, blinked at me in the dim green glow of the dashboard lights. "Uh, backseat's cleaner," he muttered, knuckles tightening on the wheel.
"Front's cosier," I slurred, flipping my hair over one shoulder in a move that made me dizzy. His eyes tracked the motion, lingering where my neckline plunged. The AC wheezed weakly, pushing the smell of fast food and pine air freshener around us.
I leaned forward to adjust the vent, letting the AC blow directly onto my flushed skin. The movement made my skirt ride up a bit more, the hem now barely grazing the tops of my thighs. I caught the his gaze flickering downward, quick, furtive, but unmistakable. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, fingers drumming unevenly against the steering wheel.
I exhaled dramatically, arching my back just enough to make the fabric of my dress strain across my chest. "God, it's boiling in here," I said, dragging my fingers along my collarbone in a slow, exaggerated motion. His knuckles went white on the wheel, I could see the tendons standing out even in the dashboard's sickly green light. With deliberate slowness, I tugged at the neckline of my dress, letting the fabric gape wider for half a second before releasing it with a teasing snap.
"Has it been busy tonight?" I asked, letting my fingers trail along the edge of the seatbelt before clicking it into place. His throat worked again as he glanced at the buckle, then back at the road. His voice came out rougher than before. "Slow. Mostly drunks who don't tip."
I let my fingers brush against his thigh, just a light, fleeting touch, barely there, but enough to make his breath hitch audibly. I felt his leg tense under my touch, the coarse fabric of his cheap tracksuit bottoms suddenly fascinating against my skin. "Oops," I murmured, not moving my hand away. "These taxi's are so cramped, huh?"
His grip on the wheel shifted, his fingers flexing and unflexing like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. His eyes darted to my hand, then back to the road, then to the rearview mirror as if checking for witnesses. The streetlights flickered overhead, casting fleeting shadows across his face, highlighting the sheen of sweat at his temples. I leaned in closer, my breath warm against his ear. "You know, I've spent up, too many shots" I lied, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But maybe we could work something out?"
I felt his breath hitched when my fingers traced idle circles on his thigh, the rough fabric of his bottoms doing little to mask the sudden heat beneath. I watched his grip on the wheel falter, just for a second, before he swallowed hard and let his own hand drift sideways, brushing against mine with deliberate hesitance. His palm was damp, calloused in all the wrong places, but the way his fingers twitched against my skin sent a thrill down my spine.
"Christ," he muttered under his breath, the words barely audible over the rattling AC. His thumb grazed the inside of my thigh, tentative at first, then firmer when I didn’t pull away. The vinyl seat creaked as I shifted, parting my legs just enough to let his hand slide higher.
The taxi swerved slightly as he lost focus, tyres bumping over a pothole. I gasped, partly performative, partly real, and arched into his touch. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of my thigh, leaving fleeting crescents where his nails bit just a little too hard. "Eyes on the road," I teased, but my voice came out breathier than I intend.
I let my fingers trail higher up the his thigh, my nails scraping lightly against the fabric until I reached the curve of his hip. His breath was coming faster now, uneven and shallow, his grip on the wheel alternating between white-knuckled and slack. I leaned in closer, my lips brushing the rough stubble of his jaw as I murmured, "Do you think I’m wearing underwear?"
His Adam’s apple bobbed violently. His eyes flicked down to the hem of my dress barely there, riding up even higher now, then back to the road with a jerk, like he’d been caught stealing. The silence stretched between them, thick and electric, broken only by the stuttering whine of the engine. I exhaled a soft laugh against his neck, warm and deliberate. "You could check," I whispered, shifting just enough to let my skirt hike another fraction higher.
His fingers trembled against my inner thigh, hovering, uncertain, before sliding higher with sudden, desperate urgency. The moment his calloused fingertips brushed against my bare pussy, I let out a sharp, involuntary gasp. I hadn’t been lying about the underwear. His breath hitched audibly when he realized, his fingers stuttering against my moist pussy, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was feeling.
The taxi lurched again as his attention wavered, tyres skimming the curb before he jerked the wheel back. I tightened my grip on his thigh, my nails digging in through the fabric as his fingers pressed deeper, exploring with clumsy, hungry strokes. The AC groaned uselessly, drowning beneath the sound of our ragged breathing. His thumb circled my clit with rough, unpracticed pressure, and I arched into his touch, my head falling back against the seat with a soft thud.
My fingers slid higher, my palm pressing flat against the his thigh before drifting inward, slow, deliberate, until my fingertips brushed against the unmistakable bulge straining against his bottoms. The fabric was taut, damp with sweat, and I could feel the heat radiating through it as my hand settled fully in his lap. His breath stuttered, hips jerking involuntarily into my touch, and I smirked against his jaw. "Someone’s happy to see me," I whispered, curling my fingers just enough to make him groan.
His grip on the wheel faltered, his other hand abandoning its tentative exploration of my thigh to clamp over mine, pressing my palm harder against his cock. His fingers were shaking, his breaths coming in short, uneven bursts as if he couldn’t decide whether to push me away or pull me closer. I took the choice from him, rubbing my hand along his length with slow, teasing strokes, my nails scraping lightly through the fabric. "Fuck," he choked out, his voice raw, and the taxi swerved dangerously close to the center line before he righted it with a jerky correction.
I grinned at the choked sound he made when my fingers tugged at his waistband, the elastic snapping against his skin before I slipped my hand beneath the fabric. I felt his stomach tense under my touch, his hips lifting slightly off the seat as if pulled by strings. His cock was hot and heavy against my palm, already leaking through the thin cotton of his briefs, and I hummed appreciatively as my fingers traced the damp spot. "Someone’s really happy," I whispered, dragging my nails lightly along the length of him through the fabric.
I flicked the seatbelt open with a sharp click, the sudden release making the him jump like I'd fired a gun. His hands scrambled for purchase on the wheel, but I was already sliding across the sticky vinyl, my knees pressing into the center console. The musky scent hit me before I even got close, thick and pungent, the sour tang of unwashed skin and stale sweat mingling with the metallic bite of precum. My nose wrinkled involuntarily, but I forced a breath through my mouth as I hooked my fingers into the waistband of his briefs, tugging them down just far enough to free his cock.
The smell intensified when I wrapped my hand around his cock, the heat of his skin almost feverish against my palm. His cock twitched in my grip, the shaft slick with a thin film of sweat and old musk, the head glistening with fresh beads of precum that smeared across my thumb when I stroked upward. I hesitated for just a second, long enough to catch his panicked glance toward the rearview mirror, before dipping my head and dragging my tongue along the underside of his shaft. The taste bloomed bitter and salty on my tongue, the unwashed skin leaving a greasy film behind that made my stomach clench.
The taste lingered, bitter-salt and something earthier, something that clung to the back of my throat like the memory of a bad decision. I gagged softly, my tongue pressing flat against the underside of his cock as I fought the urge to pull away. His sweat beaded against my lips, the musky tang seeping into my saliva, and I could feel my own wetness pooling hotter between my thighs in response. It was disgusting. It was perfect!
His breath came in ragged bursts as his fingers dug into my hair, his hips jerking involuntarily against my mouth. His grip was desperate, not guiding, not controlling, just clinging like he was afraid I’d vanish if he let go. I hummed around him, the vibration wringing a choked groan from his throat, and his fingers spasmed against my scalp. "Fuck...fuck, hold on..." he managed, his voice cracking as he suddenly wrenched the wheel to the right.
Tyres screeched against asphalt as the taxi lurched into a dimly lit side street, the headlights briefly illuminating graffiti-streaked walls before he killed the engine. The sudden silence was thick, broken only by the his uneven panting and the wet sound of my lips sliding along his cock. His hands trembled as they fumbled for the seat lever, the chair jerking backward with a metallic groan until he was half-reclined.
I didn’t let up, if anything, I sucked harder, my tongue pressing flat against the throbbing vein underneath as my fingers tightened around the base. His hips bucked off the seat with a muffled curse, his cock hitting the back of my throat in a way that made my eyes water. But I didn’t pull back. Instead, I let my free hand wander upward, my fingers skating under the damp fabric of his polo.
He froze when my nails scraped against his stomach, his breath hitching. His chest was slick with sweat, the coarse hair matted down in patches, and I wrinkled my nose at the stale, overheated smell of him as I shoved the fabric aside. His nipples were already hard beneath my palms, the skin pebbling instantly when I rolled them between my fingers. "Jesus...Christ" he gasped, his back arching off the seat as my teeth grazed his shaft.
His fingers twisted tighter in my hair, not guiding, not asking, just taking, and I barely had time to inhale before he shoved my face down onto his cock. My nose smashed into the wiry thatch of pubic hair, the sharp sting of sweat and musk flooding my nostrils as he held me there, his hips jerking upward to bury himself deeper in my throat. I gagged reflexively, saliva pooling at the corners of my mouth, my fingers scrabbling against his thighs as my airway constricted.
"Fuck, yeah...Just like that," he groaned, his voice strangled as he ground my face into his pelvis. His grip was relentless, the roots of my hair screaming where he fisted them, his other hand clenching the headrest so hard the vinyl cracked. My vision blurred at the edges, my lungs burning as I fought not to choke, my throat spasming around him in involuntary pulses that made his thighs tremble.
He let up just enough for me to drag in a shuddering breath, air thick with the scent of his skin, his sweat, his desperation, before forcing me back down. This time, I didn't resist. I relaxed my jaw, letting my lips stretch wider around him, my tongue pressing flat against the underside of his cock as he fucked my mouth in shallow, frantic thrusts. Drool slicked my chin, dripping onto his cotton briefs, and I could feel his cock twitch against my tongue every time a ragged moan tore from his throat.
His free hand groped at my chest with the clumsy desperation of a man who'd spent too many nights imagining exactly this. Fingers dug into the soft flesh above my low-cut top, he wrenched the fabric down, exposing one nipple to the humid air of the cab. I gasped around his cock, half surprise, half pain, as he pinched the hardened peak between thumb and forefinger, twisting just enough to make my back arch involuntarily.
"I love sluts like you," he growled, his voice thick with arousal as his fingers tightened in my hair, dragging my face back up his cock just enough to watch my lips stretch around him. The word sent a thrill down my spine, sharp and electric, my nipples tightening further beneath his rough grip. I moaned around his shaft, the vibration wringing another ragged groan from him, his hips jerking off the seat to thrust deeper into my mouth.
I gasped as the he abruptly yanked my head back by the fistful of hair still tangled in his grip, my lips popping free from his cock with an obscenely wet sound. Before I could even wipe my chin, his free hand was fumbling for the door handle beside him, blind, frantic, until the cab door swung open with a rusty screech. Cool night air rushed in, a slap of reality against my sweat-slicked skin.
His fingers twisted tighter in my hair as he hauled himself backward out of the taxi, dragging me with him in a clumsy, half-crawling stumble. My scalp burned where his grip didn’t relent, my knees banging against the centre console as I was dragged over it and out of the taxi. The street air was cooler than the taxi's stifling heat, but it did nothing to cut through the musk of sweat and sex clinging to us both.
The road bit into my knees as he shoved me down, his fingers still tangled painfully in my hair. "That's a good little cocksucker," he growled, his voice rough with arousal as he loomed over me, his cock glistening in the dim alley light. I didn't resist, just tilted my head back, letting my lips part in silent invitation.
I barely had time to inhale before the his fingers tightened in my hair again, yanking me forward with a brutality that sent stars bursting behind my eyelids. His cock slammed into the back of my throat without warning, the thick head lodging there as my gag reflex kicked in violently. Saliva spilled over my lips in a messy string, my throat convulsing around him in desperate, involuntary pulses. He groaned above me, his hips jerking forward to bury himself deeper, the wiry pubes tickling my flared nostrils.
My fingers scrabbled at his thighs, blunt nails digging into the sweat-slick fabric of his bottoms as I fought for balance. The pavement was unforgiving beneath my knees, gritty and littered with cigarette butts that pressed sharp indents into my bare skin. He didn't seem to notice my discomfort, his grip on my hair only tightened, his other hand clamping around the base of his cock to guide himself deeper down my throat. He could feel the moment my body gave up resisting, my throat relaxing just enough for him to slide in with a wet, choking sound.
"You're a good little slut, aren't you?" His voice was a guttural rasp, his fingers twisting tighter in my hair as he fucked my throat with short, brutal strokes. Saliva streaked down my chin in glistening trails, soaking into the already damp fabric of my low-cut dress. The metallic tang of my smeared lipstick mixed with the salt of his precum, staining the lace at my cleavage in uneven blotches.
My vision blurred at the edges as the his thrusts grew rougher, the rhythm erratic now, no finesse, just the raw, animal need to bury himself as deep as my throat would allow. My gag reflex spasmed violently with every impaling shove forward, my body’s instinctive rejection overridden by the relentless pressure of his grip in my hair. Tears streaked hot down my cheeks, mingling with the spit slicking my chin, and he groaned at the sight.
He finally yanked his cock free with a wet pop that sent strands of saliva snapping against my chin. I doubled over instantly, coughing so hard my ribs ached, strings of spit dangling from my lips before splattering onto the pavement between my splayed knees. The alley air hit my raw throat like ice water, sharp, stinging relief that made me gasp between ragged coughs.
His fingers never loosened their grip, if anything, they twisted tighter as he hauled me upright by my hair, my scalp screaming where strands ripped free. I stumbled after him, my feet scraping against the pavement, my breath still hitching from the brutal throat-fucking. The world tilted drunkenly as he dragged me toward the front of the cab, the dim street lights casting long shadows that slithered across the hood like living things.
The cold metal bit into my cheek the moment he shoved me face-first onto the bonnet. The hood still radiated engine heat from beneath, but the surface was slick with dew and gritty with city grime. I gasped as my bare thighs met the unforgiving metal, the contrast of cold against my overheated skin sending a jolt through me. He didn’t give me time to adjust, his calloused hands were already yanking my dress up my back in one rough motion, the fabric bunching around my waist until the night air hit my bare ass.
The first thrust was brutal, no warning, no teasing, just his hips slamming forward with enough force to knock the breath from my lungs. My palms scrabbled against the hood, fingers slipping on the slick metal as he buried himself to the hilt in one stroke. A sharp gasp tore from my throat, half pain, half exhilaration, my back arching involuntarily as he pinned my hips down with bruising force. He groaned above me, his sweat-damp chest pressing against my back, his breath hot and ragged against my ear. "Fuck, you’re tight," he muttered, his voice thick with disbelief, as if he hadn’t just had my mouth stretched around his cock minutes earlier.
His next thrust was punctuated by the sound of fabric tearing, a sharp, sudden rip that sent the neckline of my dress tearing at the front like tissue paper. The fragile material gave way under his clawing grip, the straps snapping as he yanked backward, using the ruined fabric to haul my hips flush against his. I gasped as the cold night air hit my newly exposed skin, my breasts bouncing free with each brutal snap of his hips. The remnants of my dress clung to my waist, tattered strips in his hand.
His fingers dug into my hips hard enough to leave bruises, purple-black fingerprints blooming beneath my skin like ink spilled on parchment. Every thrust drove me harder against the hood, the metal protesting with a dull metallic groan as the taxi rocked on its suspension. His rhythm was relentless, each snap of his hips punctuated by the wet slap of skin and the ragged hitch of his breath. My cheek pressed harder into the cold metal, my mouth hanging open in a silent gasp as his cock carved a burning path inside me, the friction bordering on pain.
My orgasm hit like a stolen car crashing through a guardrail, sudden, violent, and with no regard for who got hurt. My fingers scrabbled against the hood, nails screeching across the metal as my back arched violently, my spine bowing until my shoulder blades pressed into the his sweat-slick chest. A ragged cry tore from my throat, half-strangled by the force of it, my thighs clamping around his hips as if trying to fuse our bodies together. He groaned against my ear, his breath hot and sour, his fingers digging deeper into the soft flesh of my hips as he fucked me through it.
"Stop....please..." I gasped, my voice cracking as his thrusts grew impossibly deeper, each one driving the breath from my lungs in ragged bursts. My fingers slipped on the dew-slick hood, nails scraping uselessly against the metal as I tried to push myself up, but his weight pinned me effortlessly. "I can't...fuck...let me breathe..."
His rhythm stuttered, one final, brutal thrust that punched the air from my lungs as he buried himself to the hilt. His hips jerked against my ass in erratic spasms, his fingers tightening like vices around my waist as a guttural groan ripped from his throat. Heat flooded me in pulsing waves, the sudden wetness trickling down my thighs before I could even catch my breath. His body locked rigid against mine, trembling with the force of his orgasm, his sweat dripping onto my back in slick trails.
I clenched around him instinctively, my own thighs shaking from the aftershocks of my climax, the mix of our fluids making filthy, sticky sounds with every shallow twitch of his hips. He exhaled sharply through his nose, his breath ragged against my shoulder as he slumped over me, his weight pressing me harder into the hood. The metal groaned beneath us, the car’s suspension creaking as he rocked forward one last time, grinding deep as if trying to leave every last drop inside me.
His softening cock slid free with a wet sound, glistening under the flickering alley light as he took a staggering step back. I stayed slumped against the hood, my breath still coming in ragged gulps, the cooling metal pressing into my flushed skin. He didn't look at me, just grabbed himself with rough, careless fingers and dragged the head of his cock along the torn fabric around my waist. The ruined lace absorbed the mess with a dark, creeping stain, the damp patch spreading like ink spilled on tissue paper.
"Better get you home, slut," he grunted, his voice gravelly with spent exhaustion. He wiped his palm across his damp forehead before yanking his bottoms up with a rough jerk, the fabric still slick with sweat. The words hung in the air between us, not gentle, not cruel, just a statement of fact, like he was commenting on the weather.
I moaned, half-delirious, half-dazed, as my knees buckled, my body sliding bonelessly off the car’s hood. The pavement rushed up to meet me, cold and unforgiving, the gritty asphalt scraping against my bare thighs as I crumpled in a heap. My dress, what little remained of it, tangled around my waist like a shredded flag of surrender. He loomed over me, his shadow swallowing me whole, his breath still coming in ragged bursts as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. My own breath hitched when his fingers, still damp with my spit, my sweat, brushed against my cheek, pushing a tangled strand of hair behind my ear with a gentleness that felt obscene after what we'd just done.
The driver’s hands were rough under my armpits, calloused fingers digging into the soft flesh of my sides as he hauled me upright like a discarded marionette. My legs wobbled, knees threatening to buckle again, but he didn’t let me fall, just pivoted on the balls of his feet and tossed me over his shoulder in one fluid motion. The world tilted violently, my stomach lurching as the alleyway spun upside down, my cheek smacking against the sweat-drenched back of his polo. The sour musk of sex and stale deodorant filled my nostrils, the fabric damp and clinging to my face as he carried me toward the cab with purposeful strides.
He dumped me into the passenger seat with the same careless efficiency of a man tossing a sack of groceries. My body slumped against the cracked vinyl, my legs splayed wide enough for the overhead light to catch the glisten between my thighs. The door slammed shut with a hollow thunk, sealing me inside the stale, musky air of the taxi, now thick with the smell of sweat, sex, and the acrid tang of spilled beer from some long-forgotten passenger.
The engine roared to life with a shuddering growl, his hand fumbling with the gearshift before jerking it into drive. I slumped against the passenger door, my bare thigh sticking to the vinyl seat with every shallow breath I took. The taxi lurched forward, throwing me sideways until my shoulder bumped against the window, cold glass against my flushed skin, the street lights streaking past in smeared ribbons of neon.
My fingers trembled as I pawed at the tattered remains of my dress, the fabric slipping through my grasp like wet paper. The lace trim hung in jagged loops around my waist, the neckline split down the middle to the waist where the cabbie had ripped it open. I clutched the ruined top halve together with one hand, my other frantically patting the seat beneath my thighs for my bag, knocking my phone, a loose tampon, and a melted lipstick onto the floor in my haste. The taxi hit a pothole, jolting me sideways, and I gasped as the torn fabric gaped open again, exposing one nipple to the chill of the AC blasting from the vents.
His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, slow, deliberate, his gaze flicking toward me as I struggled with the remains of my dress. "Did you enjoy that, slut?" His voice was low, roughened by exertion, but there was something almost conversational in the way he said it, like he was asking about the weather.
I let out a shaky breath, my thighs still trembling where they pressed together. I didn't look at him, just traced a finger along the seam of the torn fabric, my nail catching on a loose thread. "Mmmm," I hummed, the sound throaty and wrecked. "I've never been fucked like that before." The admission slipped out before I could bite it back, my own voice startling me with its raw honesty.
His laugh was a low, grating sound, like tyres skidding over gravel. "Here you are, my little whore" he announced, jerking the wheel sharply to pull over beside a dimly lit intersection. The brakes squealed, jolting me forward against the seatbelt, the strap biting into my bare shoulder.
I blinked at the unfamiliar street, brick apartments with barred windows, a flickering streetlight casting long shadows across cracked pavement. My stomach lurched. "Wait, I live down there!" I protested, pointing toward a side street half a mile away where my building’s silhouette was barely visible. My voice sounded too thin, too desperate. "That’s not...you can’t just..."
"Walk," he scowls, the word sharp as broken glass underfoot. His fingers drummed once, hard, against the steering wheel, the sound a punctuation mark that left no room for argument. The cab idled unevenly, exhaust fumes curling around the cracked sidewalk like impatient ghosts.
The door clicked open with a hollow sound, the humid night air rushing in like a slap. I stumbled onto the sidewalk, my legs wobbling like a newborn deer’s, tears filled my eyes, the torn edges of my dress fluttering in the breeze. I clutched the fabric to my chest with one shaking hand, the other pressed between my thighs, as if that could hide the sticky mess drying on her skin. His interior light flickered behind me, casting my shadow long and jagged across the pavement, my silhouette trembling at the edges.
The taillights of the taxi bled into the night like smeared lipstick, shrinking into pinpricks before vanishing around the corner. I stood frozen on the sidewalk, the torn remnants of my dress fluttering against my thighs in the humid breeze. A streetlight flickered overhead, casting my shadow in fractured pieces across the pavement, my bare legs, the jagged hemline, clutching the top of my dress toghether. I turned and started walking, my heels clicking on the pavement as I used a wall to steady myself.