Stepping out of the terminal, into the taxi line, nervous energy courses through my veins, and I feel all of the apprehension and excitement of finally getting to be in your presence. Months of making love through our cell phones had accumulated, within us, a ferocious intensity, only to be relieved by actual physical contact.
A vintage yellow cab approaches, and I mindlessly slide onto the black vinyl bench seat, which had been recklessly repaired by layers of duct tape, over the years. The driver, a mid-thirties gentleman, cheerfully bids me good evening, as we merge onto the circular ramp away from the airport. Feeling hotter than ever, my body clothed perfectly in garments I'd selected to accentuate my voluptuous curves- the tight black dress, which embraces my ample ass, and the sheer stockings, held in place, around my thighs, by the garters suspended from a lace and mesh teddy underneath, Forgoing panties, my anticipation has begun to create a slow trickle of fluid onto my tender, fair skin.
Crossing and uncrossing my legs, I am suddenly aware of the driver's gaze in my direction, from the rear-view mirror. Growing impatient with the gridlock of Chicago's evening rush-hour, thoughts of our impending introduction rapidly increase the sensations within my yearning pussy.
Continuing to observe the driver's interest in my presence, I slowly part my legs, offering him a peek at my freshly waxed lips, glistening with my musky juices. The driver's mischievous grin meets me, as he awkwardly shifts in his seat. Traffic begins to improve, and we speed forth toward the hotel. I reach into my slippery cavern and discretely tease my engorged clit. Imagining your thick rod poking me, I slowly probe my entrance, lightly, with one, then two of my fingers.