Turning The Tables

I can't deny that. No part of me can. Not when I'm kneeling in the front seat of his cab and sucking his cock. Not when I hate him and love to hate him in equal measures.

Pulling back I pop his cock out of my mouth with a long moan. A string of spit connects my bottom lip to the head of his cock and I practically drool out the rest of it, but manage to close my mouth as if to savor the taste which frankly isn't far from the truth.

"I know what you're going to say," I cut him off, noticing that he was about to speak.

"You do?" he is bemused.

And I am busy. Even though I speak I don't stop what I'm doing. I play with his cock with my hand and I kiss the head of him. I slide my tongue down one side of him and up the other and I mumble my words in the moment before I push down again. I punctuate my sentences and statements with affection, with the need for me to seek his satisfaction and my own at the same time.

"You're going to make all sorts of comments about how I'm a whore," I tell him, "How I was born for this. How clearly good I am at it."

"Am I now," he muses, running his hands almost gently through his hair and letting his head fall back as he moans while I push down to take more of him than I have since I returned to sucking his cock.

"You're going to say that I'm talented," I mumble against him, stroking him while my lips brush against the head of him, "And you're fucking right."

"Egotistical," he shivers, barely able to make that out through gritted teeth when I do something delightfully talented with my tongue, bobbing it like a wave across the head of his cock.

"Perhaps, but also just aware. Aware of my own abilities. Aware of how good I am."

"Aware that you're a good little whore?" he asks, chuckling.

I moan at him calling me that and I push down, **** myself on him just enough to give me a memory of how good it had been when he took me, choked me himself. The feel of his hands on me. The moment...

Oh god the moment he'd played with my tight little asshole.

"Whore," I groan out long and low when I pull back from him, "Maybe I like being a whore. But can I really be a whore if I'm still a virgin?"

He laughs, "Don't need to lie with me, darling."

"You're right, I don't," I point out, "Which is why I'm not lying. I'm still a virgin. The only hole I've ever used is my mouth, but I have used it quite a bit."

The fat old cabby doesn't have anything to say to that, but I feel him tense as he considers the possibility and I take my chance. I pull back from sucking his cock as I slide up his body a little. My hand still strokes him, still builds him bit by bit, but I slide up until my lips are right against his and my nipples are just dragging across his chest.

"I am a virgin," I tell him, staring him in the eye so he knows I'm not lying, "I know how much guys like to hear that. I know guys get off on the fantasy of it. What do you say? Want to be my first?"

He babbles. He literally stutters. Confident asshole that he is, he doesn't quite know what to say.

And I laugh at him for it, mocking him like he mocked me as I shake my head.

"Still not going to fuck you. As if I'd let some fat old fuck like you be my first. I'll suck your cock, Sir, because that seems like fun. I'll get you off because it's fun to watch you squirm but I'm not going to fuck you. Not today. Today all you get is to want and need and crave.

"Today, all you get is to ache."

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