The Taxi Driver (Patreon)

Author’s note: All characters are consenting adults (18+). All sexual acts depicted are consensual between the characters.

Last summer I met a straight taxi driver online.

He was somewhere in his late thirties or early forties. Tall, white, slim but solid, with short dark hair spiked with gel, a neatly groomed beard, and those cool daddy aviator sunglasses that never left his face until he was ready to fuck. He had that quiet, masculine energy some men just carry — the kind that makes you want to get on your knees without being asked.

We’d already exchanged a few messages. I told him I wanted him to fuck me. He was clear from the start: condom only, for both oral and anal. I agreed. We have to respect their choices.

It was a hot weekday afternoon. I’d just finished sucking off a truck driver in his parked truck in the industrial zone when the taxi pulled up. I climbed into the passenger seat still tasting the previous load. We talked while he drove, looking for a quiet place to stop. His voice was low and calm, the kind of voice that doesn’t need to raise itself to sound in control. I liked him immediately.

When he asked if I knew a popular cruising area nearby, I said yes. I’d been there before. More than once.

He parked on the edge of the woods and we got out together. The air was thick with heat and the smell of dry leaves. We walked a short way in until the road noise faded. He leaned against a tree, unzipped, and pulled his cock out. It was already half-hard — long, thick enough, the head dark. He rolled a condom on carefully.

I dropped to my knees on the dirt and took him into my mouth.

The latex taste was unpleasant, the way it always is, but the cock underneath was solid and heavy. I worked him with long, wet strokes, taking as much as the condom allowed, letting spit run down the shaft. He watched me with that same calm expression, one hand resting lightly on the back of my head.

“I want other men to see me,” I said when I pulled off for a second, still stroking him. “I want them to watch me suck and being fucked. I like being used like a proper cruising slut.”

He didn’t argue. He just put his cock away, nodded once, and we moved deeper into the woods.

We passed a muscular guy with grey hair standing just off the path, openly stroking himself. That was enough for me. I stopped, dropped back to my knees, and looked up at the taxi driver.

“Fuck me right here.”

He didn’t need telling twice. He rolled a fresh condom on, spat on my hole, and pushed me down onto all fours over a fallen log. The bark dug into my forearms. I felt the thick head of his cock press against me, then the slow, steady burn as he forced himself inside. My ass stretched around him, the muscles trembling. It hurt in the best way.

When he was finally buried to the root he started thrusting — deep, hard, controlled strokes that made the log shift under me. I moaned openly, loud enough to call for attention. The grey-haired guy moved closer, still stroking, eyes locked on where the taxi driver’s cock was disappearing into me.

I looked up at him and opened my mouth.

He stepped forward. I took his cock between my lips while the taxi driver kept pounding my ass from behind. The grey-haired guy was thick and already leaking. I sucked him hungrily, letting him use my throat while the taxi driver’s hips slapped against me. 

Another man appeared on the path a few metres away — shorter, stocky, around thirty — and stopped to watch, hand already in his shorts.

The grey-haired guy didn’t last long. His thighs started shaking and he came hard down my throat with a broken grunt, filling my mouth while the taxi driver kept fucking me through it. I swallowed everything and kept my mouth open.

The stocky guy moved in immediately. He grabbed my hair and shoved his cock past my lips, face-fucking me with short, rough strokes. Behind me the taxi driver’s rhythm turned harder, less controlled. He was close. I could feel it in the way his grip tightened on my hips and the way his cock swelled inside the condom.

He drove in deep, held himself there, and came with a low, guttural sound, pulsing thickly into the condom while he kept grinding against my ass. The feeling of being filled — even with the latex barrier — made me moan around the cock in my mouth.

The stocky guy took that as permission. He fucked my throat harder, using me without care, until he finally locked my head in place and emptied himself onto my throat. I swallowed the second load of the afternoon (the third if I counted the truck driver earlier) while the taxi driver slowly pulled out of me.

I stayed on the log for a few seconds longer, hole still open, chin wet, the taste of two different men loads in my mouth. The grey-haired guy had already disappeared back into the trees. The stocky one tucked himself away and left without a word.

The taxi driver cleaned up in silence, fixed his pants, and waited for me to stand. We walked back to the cab together. He drove me home without charging for the fare.

Neither of us said much on the way.

Some encounters don’t need conversation afterward.