FemaleFakeTaxi Sexy male stripper cums in filthy cab drivers mouth

“Are you alright there, love?” The cab driver, a portly, balding bloke in his late fifties, glanced at the young woman slumped in the backseat of his filthy minicab. She was clearly worse for wear, dressed in a skin-tight minidress that left little to the imagination. Her long, slim legs were crossed at the knee, the hem riding up to reveal a peek of lacy white knickers – a tantalising flash against the polyester of the backseat.

“Aye, I’m grand.” Her voice was breathy, with a hint of a Scottish brogue. “Just had a bit too much to drink at ma friend’s hen night. Getting a stiffy in here back, though. We’ve got a spare five minutes before I need to go nowhere important. Fancy earning a few extra quid? I’m in the mood for a touch or as I say, ‘a touch.’

The cabbie, whose name was Derek, weighed up the proposition. He’d been driving this battered old Ford for near on fifteen years, ferrying drunks like this one around the city all hours of the night. But he couldn’t deny, she was a looker. Hard to believe a wisp of a lass like her could flatten a grown man with her footwear alone. As if reading his thoughts, she arched an eyebrow and kicked off what looked to be impossibly high platform shoes and wiggled her toes.

“Can’t say I’ve had many requests like that, but aye, I think I could be persuaded, for the right price.” Derek reached for the privacy screen.

“No need to bother with that.” She scooted forward in the seat, shifting around to straddle the cabbie. Her hands found the bulge in his trousers, fingers deftly unfastening his fly. Derek groaned as she wrapped a hand around his cock. “Name’s Tara, by the way. I’d shake your hand, but as you can see…” She used her grip to stroke him, smirking up at him from under long lashes.

“Well…ah…Derek.Bloodyhellthatfeelsgood.”

Tara grinned wickedly, pumping him slowly. “Good to know. You just sit back and let Tara do the driving.” With that, she ducked her head down, dragging her tongue along his rigid length. Derek squirmed in his seat, one beefy hand coming to rest on the back of her head.

She took him into her mouth, sucking hard as she bobbed her head. Derek’s hands began to roam, settling on her arse. It was firm and round, fitting perfectly in his hands. Despite her slight frame, Tara had the sort of curves you just didn’t see in the wild anymore. Her standout breasts, barely contained by a thin layer of pink fabric, pressed against his chest. The friction of the lacy material and her hard nipples inflamed him further still.

“Fuck, you’re good at that.” Derek groaned, his hips starting to twitch. As if on cue, Tara took him deep, all the way to the back of her throat. Her tongue fluttered against the underside of his shaft, and she hollowed her cheeks. “Christ, love, I’m going to…”

At his warning, Tara pulled back just enough that he could spurt into her waiting mouth. Derek collapsed against the seat as the aftershocks rippled through him, chest heaving. “Bloody hell. Where did you learn to do that?”

Tara sat up, licking her lips. “Let’s just say I’ve done a few shows, if you know what I mean.” She took a pointers from the oldest profession, the world’s oldest. They both knew she must have put in some serious time perfecting that technique. “Aye, a bit of a glint in my eye, eh.”

She unclipped her lacy bra, letting her pert breasts bounce free. Derek reached out to cup them, thumbs circling her dusky areolas. They stiffened under his touch, nipples standing at attention. Tara arched her back, pressing herself further into his hands. Her own hand wrapped around his shaft once more, stroking languidly.

“You know…” Derek groaned “…I’ve got chocolate sauce in the glove box. We could really stir things up…”

Tara laughed, the sound husky and disruptive. “I’d love to, but I’m meant to be saving myself for my bloody wedding night.” She released him and climbed back into the passenger seat, that dress riding up to reveal everything. “Er, can you take me there? Last stop before I need to go?”

Derek exhaled heavily, tucking himself back into his trousers. “Aye, more’s the pity. Drop you back with your tune and everything.”

As Derek pulled up to drop Tara off, the sexiest taxi ride he’d ever give, he couldn’t help but admire her one last time. Bleedin’ ‘ell, she was something. He made a mental note: he’d be asking her for her direct line in case he ever needed anything now. He pulled up outside what looked like a rather posh hotel, turned on his meter, and called to the rear of the cab.

“Here we are, love.” Derek turned around, grinning. “That’ll be XVP for yer journey, if you please.”

“Aye.” She glanced over disapprovingly, taking her bag. “I thought we had a bit of an understanding, Duncan.” The lilt of her accent softened with insult.

“Nae Derek.”

“Well, Derek then, I’m to walk by practically freezing by skirt and heels from yer taxi, without any money to pay yer cab. Six pounds ought to do it. And don’t ask for another chip in, less you want me to spread it all over yer dirty cab.”

“Och, I’m perfectly happy with the advance payment you gied me Jennifer.”