A gay story: A Special Tip for The Taxi Driver This is a true story of a horny encounter in the early 80s.
It was late on a warm summer Saturday night – actually, early Sunday morning – and I was on my way home from a night out in a Chelsea club. Hailing a London taxi in the area and at that time of night had proved to be impossible so I decided to walk back to my flat.
As I lived in Putney it was a fair distance and half way along the Fulham Palace Road I kept looking behind me in the hope that an empty taxi might be travelling my way.
I had just completed this action for the umpteenth time when a white mini cab pulled up beside me. The driver leaned across the passenger seat and said through the open window “Wanting a cab, mate?”
“Yes, I am,” I replied.
“Where are you going?”
I gave him the name of my road.
He nodded. ” I’m not supposed to do pick-ups, but I can take you home if you like.”. Then he added with a grin. “And I’m cheaper than a London taxi.”. He opened the door and I climbed in. It was only now I got a proper look at him. He was gorgeous. I surmised him to be in his early twenties. He wore white jeans, a white tee shirt, tight enough to indicate that he had a well developed athlete’s body. His brown hair was well groomed. I couldn’t resist a quick glance down at his crotch. It showed promise. Then I came back to my senses.
During the journey back he was very chatty and his East London accent really turned me on. I decided that I would need to have a wank when I got home, fantasising about what might have been. He stopped outside my flat and I paid the fare, giving him a generous tip on top. His next remark made me start.
“Is it dark round the back of these flats?”
“Why?” I asked, genuinely puzzled.
“I’m desperate for a slash – it’s been a long night.”
“No need for that,” I said. “You can use my loo.” I added with a grin “You’ll have to put a penny in the slot, mind.” I didn’t quite catch his reply as he turned away to switch off his intercom radio then locked the car.
A couple of minutes later I had shown him the bathroom. He entered and locked the door. When I heard the sound of his piss jetting into the toilet bowl my cock twitched in my trousers as I imagined what his exposed cock might look like. He obviously needed to urinate as the flow lasted well over a minute. The loo flushed and a tap was turned on.
“Good boy,” I smiled to myself. It never ceased to amaze me the number of guys in public toilets who didn’t wash their hands after taking a leak. He unlocked the door and came out. I took the bull by the horns.
“I’m gonna make myself a coffee. Fancy one or have you got to get back to your cab?”
“It’ll wait. I’ve turned the radio off. Yeah – that’ll be good, ta. Black with two sugars.”
I opened my lounge door and told him to make himself comfortable. Then when I looked straight into the room my heart nearly stopped. Against the wall opposite was a home cinema screen on a tripod, still set up for a showing. Six feet in front of it was my 8mm film projector and on the table beside it a pile of porn films in their lurid boxes.
At this juncture I’d better explain to you dear readers the reason for their presence.
I had a contact who worked for one of the many Soho sex shops which were prevalent at that time. About once a month he’d bring me a new consignment of “blue movies” (as they were quaintly called then) to show to my friends. If my chums wanted to buy any of them they gave me a set sum for each film. My friend would then call round and I’d give him the takings. There was no financial gain for me, instead I could choose a free movie for myself. I now had quite a collection.
Now back to the plot. The previous evening I had such a gathering of pals round for a film show and until this moment I’d completely forgotten I’d left the evidence in my room. Ah, well – too late now!
“Make yourself at home,” I said, nonchalantly. “Don’t mind the impedimenta,” I added, showing off my vocabulary. I went into the kitchen. When I returned to the lounge carrying two mugs of coffee, my guest was standing by the table sifting through the dozen or so films.”
“Fuckin’ ell! Where did you get this lot from?”
I gave him the lowdown.
“You lucky bastard. I’ve never seen a dirty movie. Any chance of watching one?”
“Don’t you need to get back to your cab?” I said, trying desperately to retain my nonchalant attitude. If he had responded by saying “You’re right – I must go.” I’d probably have topped myself. Fortunately, he actually said “I’ve got time to watch one. How long do they last?”
“About ten minutes,” I replied.
“Go on then. How about this one?”. He handed me one of the boxes. The photo on the front showed a well-endowed lady laying on her back on a couch, legs wrapped round a stud’s back as he was fucking her. A second guy was standing by her face, his stiff prick embedded in her mouth. I might add at this juncture that all the films on the table were straight ones, although sometimes my contact got hold of gay movies as well. Most of my friends who attended these viewings were gay, but, like me, also enjoyed straight porn.
With trembling hands I threaded the film into the projector, switched on, adjusted the focus as the title whirred onto the screen. Due to the relative brevity of these films, no time was wasted with preamble and this film, probably Danish, went straight for the jugular.
The buxom woman on the film’s box was spreadeagled on the couch, masturbating while looking at a porn magazine. Two male faces suddenly appeared at her window, obviously window cleaners. After wiping the pane with their shammies they spot her and look leeringly at each other. The acting was not quite up to the Royal Shakespeare Company’s standard. A sudden cut and the men were in the room with the masturbating woman.
My taxi driver (we hadn’t exchanged names) was seated at one end of my sofa which was against the wall, facing the screen, the projector beside the other end of the sofa. After starting the projector, I had positioned myself in my armchair which was against the adjacent wall. This gave me a good view of the screen and my new friend.
The two ‘actors’ on the screen were watching the woman’s fingers of one hand churning in her open vagina, her other hand fondling her ample breasts. They were rubbing their bulging crotches suggestively. The taxi driver was transfixed to the action on the screen. I was transfixed to his hand which was over his bulge, though I couldn’t see whether it was bigger then when I’d seen it in the taxi. Whatever he was doing he was doing it discreetly. After all, this was new territory for him. Me? I was as hard as a rolling pin, though nowhere near as big, I might add. And I too was playing it cool.
The next scene showed the men in the scenario as depicted on the cover of the box. They were now naked, masturbating their impressive hardons. One of them was fingering her cunt, the other one fondling her tits. Then came the scene shown from the photo on the box cover: one guy fucking her while the other one was being sucked off. By now, my friend was getting quite fed up, shifting his position on the sofa and his legs stretched out in front of him. Now I had a good view of his bulge during the brief second it was uncovered by his hand and it definitely was bigger than it was in the taxi. Then his hand covered it again, though I did detect his fingers giving it a squeeze. His eyes suddenly darted from the screen in my direction, catching me out.
“Fuckin’ ‘ell!” he said for the second time in a few minutes. “This is hot! I wish my gal was here right now. I’d give her a fuckin’ good seeing to!”
“What, in front of me?” I said in mock disdain.
“I wouldn’t care.” he replied.
I decided the time was right to go one tentative step further.
“Well, if you want to have a wank watching this, don’t mind me,” I reassured him. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting between the screen and me. I went on: “If it makes you feel more comfortable I’ll wank off as well.”
Then, looking at the screen, I suddenly thought: “Shit! Have I left it too late?” The film was coming to a climax – literally! The woman, now masturbating furiously, was flanked by the two hung guys also tossing themselves off. One shot his voluminous load over her tits, the other one spunking over her belly and labia.
My friend was now visibly squeezing his bulge as The End appeared on the screen and the film off the reel. Someone up there obviously loved me. My taxi driver said: “Let’s see another one. Any one of them will do.”
As I stood up to choose a film, my hardon in my jeans was very evident. He grinned at me. “Obviously had the same effect on you!”
Never had I changed reels in my projector so fast and within seconds the new film had started. I sat down in my armchair, unzipped my jeans and pulled out my rock hard cock. It wasn’t enough. I raised my bum up and pulled my jeans and underpants right down my thighs. Legs stretched out, I got down to business with long strokes while fondling my balls with my other hand.
I looked across at my friend. He couldn’t take his eyes off what I was doing.
“Bloody ‘ell! I bet you please the birds with that.”
I suppose just over seven inches wasn’t a bad size, but little did he know it was usually blokes who got the pleasure out of it. However, it did the trick. The moment I had been waiting for finally arrived. He followed suit with my actions and I now had the pleasure of seeing his cock and balls in all their glory. Why he praised my equipment so generously when his was more than adequate, I’ll never know. And the way he was stroking it, just thumb on top with three fingers underneath, sliding his foreskin up and down over his blood engorged helmet, made me salivate. Like me, he was fondling his nice sized balls with his other hand. I think I would be cumming before the money shots on the screen.
I couldn’t resist making one more move. He was wanking a bit faster now, his eyes glued to the action on the screen. I watched the muscles on his abdomen tighten. He was breathing heavier.
“I’ll finish you off if you like,”. I said, now feeling bold.
His hand slowed down and he looked at me.
“Eh?” he said. “What d’you mean?”
I suddenly had a pit in my stomach. This time I’d gone too far.
“It was just a thought,” I said. “I’ve had birds wank me off and it’s much better than doing it yourself.” This actually was a true statement, but, again, it was mostly men (and lots of them!) I’d had that enjoyable pastime with.
I went on: “Hasn’t your girlfriend wanked you off before?”
Was I now digging a hole for myself? The film on the screen was at least half-way through and I didn’t want to completely ruin the proceedings. “This is a good bit,” I said, pointing to the screen, then continued my stroking. I noticed his erection hadn’t subsided and he started speeding up again. Phew!
A few seconds passed with only the sounds of the whirring projector and double masturbation skin against squelching skin.
“Go on then.”
I looked at him. “What?”
“Finish me off. I’m getting close.”
There is a God! I waddled over to the sofa, my trousers and pants still halfway down my legs, and sat next to him.
“Only your hand though.” he said.
“A shame” I thought. I’d love to have had his gorgeous cock in my mouth, but I guess in his eyes that would be too gay.
Needless to say, the feel of his thick pulsating prick in my hand was heaven enough for me, particularly with his full bollocks cupped in my other hand. I fondled them gently and jacked his cock with a full fisted grip. So much pre-cum had oozed down the shaft, my hands were already oiled up. I gathered some more by palm-rolling the tip of his bell-end which made him shudder and squirm. He put his hands behind his head and half looked down at my ministrations on his prized possessions and up at the action on the screen. My own cock was going to have to wait.
Suddenly he let out a gasp and grabbed the bottom of his tee-shirt, pulling it up to his throat.
“Oh, fuck!” he yelled. “Go faster! I’m cumming!” He raised his midriff up from the sofa and let out a series of grunts, gasps and roars as my now fast and furious strokes milked an enormous jet of spunk which went over his head, the back of the sofa and on to my carpet. Subsequent gushes soaked most of his chest and abdomen and my hand. So horny was I that I lubricated my cock with his spunk to bring myself off in a glorious orgasm. It only took thirty seconds.
“Can I use your bathroom again, mate?” he asked.
“Of course,” I replied.
When he came out a couple of minutes later, cleaned up and ready for work again, I noticed his demeanour was different. Still friendly, but more abrupt. Guilt perhaps? I felt giving him my phone number in case of a return visit pretty fruitless.
He looked at his watch. “Blimey! I’ve got a pick up booked for the airport in half an hour. Better shoot. Thanks for the coffee and the film show. Cheers, mate.”
I opened the front door and he was gone. When I went into the bathroom I noticed he’d used my hand towel to clean himself up. It was very damp. I sniffed it and the pungent, but not unpleasant whiff of semen caressed my nostrils. I took it into the lounge, put it on the sofa, made myself another coffee, spooled another film in my projector and fired it up. I was now stark naked as I sat in the spot on the sofa my taxi driver friend had been sitting. I embedded my cock, now fully erect again, in the spunky towel and brought myself off for the second time in thirty minutes.