Taxi!
I stood on the street corner in the chilly December air, patiently waiting for Dave to arrive. Conveniently, he called me on a day that I had told my husband I would be doing after-work shopping, saying he would pick me up so we could "knock off" one of the blowjobs I owed him. Owed might have been a strong word, since the only thing I was getting out of the bargain was his cooperation in not releasing the footage and pictures he had taken of our first encounter, when I had sucked him off in return for a highly sought-after toy during a black Friday sale. Never-the-less, I was eager to get the ten blowjobs over with so that I could get back to my life without the constant pressure from Dave to get together and service him. While the fact that I was being forced to perform fellatio on a relative stranger was obviously less that stellar, deep down I knew a part of me drew some enjoyment from the arrangement. Dave, for all his criminally extortionate faults, was clean, dirty minded, and had a very nice cock. Servicing him was far from the worst job I'd ever had to perform.
I was surprised when a cab pulled up in front of me, with Dave riding in the back seat. I had expected him to pick me up in his own car, and with trepidation I responded to his gestures and clambered in. Sitting down beside him I saw that he was still dressed in a suit, and gathered that he must have come straight from work. A cursory inspection of the cab revealed that we had a middle-eastern cab driver whose license listed his name as "Ahmed." I gave David a half-hearted smile and attempted to engage him in small talk in order to figure out exactly what he was up to. In response, he mostly ignored me, opening a newspaper in front of him and reading it while I tried to engage him. After a couple minutes I gave up, and sat back to wait out the cab ride to whatever our destination was.
As if sensing my capitulation, Dave suddenly reached out and grasped my left arm at the wrist. I looked up at him as he guided my hand to his lap, and watched for a response on his face as I gave his already hard shaft a light squeeze through the fabric of his pants. Dave played it cool, and the only response I received was a slight lift of his eyebrows as he went back to scanning the paper, removing his hand from mine to turn the page. Sensing what he wanted, and using the upheld paper as a shield against the driver's prying eyes, I quietly unzipped Dave's pants, reaching in to remove his throbbing shaft. His cock looked fat and hard jutting out from his fly, and I gently stroked it up and down with my hand, watching as a bead of precum formed at the tip. I glance up at the mirror, watching for some response from the cabbie. Though he does seem to make eye contact with me a few times, I don't see any indication that he is aware of what is happening in his back seat.
