Sometimes it's hard to tell the season in the heart of the city unless you take a midday stroll through Central Park. It was a warm October day in the Big Apple, I got into town late last night and didn't reach the hotel until well after midnight. I had a 10 A.M. meeting at the Chrysler Building on the East Side. I had some time on my hands and some dollars in my pocket, so I decided to take my usual look around town. I hailed a cab and told him to show me the city. After all it was on the company's dime.
According to the visor sign my driver was a man named Julio. He was a likeable enough young man with dark hair and a mustache. Venezuela, I believe, is where he said he was from. He spoke pretty good English, so we got along well. He had a picture of his family next to his name tag on the sun visor; his wife and two kids I assumed. Smiling brightly, he asked me my name as we pulled away from the curb.
"Wett, Mr. Wett," I told him reluctantly after he introduced himself.
We had only gone a couple blocks; Monday morning traffic kept us at a snail's pace. Standing on a street corner with her right hand in the air, a hotel towel draped gently over her shoulder, clutching a half empty water bottle in her hand, leaning over in front of the cab was a beautiful young black-haired girl wearing pink Body Brazil brand leggings, a matching sports bra, and $500 running shoes.
While her small B-Cup breasts didn't do much to grab my attention, her hard little nipples did stand out in the crowd. Her firm round ass and puffy camel toe were her best features and quite honestly hard to ignore. Bright red lipstick made her lips shine like a lighthouse beacon. I briefly imagined; as men often do, how those red lips would feel wrapped around my stiffening cock, convincing myself without any doubt, that she swallows.
"Hey Mr. Wett, do you mind? I know this girl," he asked eagerly, glancing up at me in the rearview mirror with a smile.
"Sure, why not," I chimed back, adjusting my crotch.
"A good decision my friend," he chuckled, pulling over, motioning her in as I slid slowly to the left side of the back seat, placing my portfolio in the center as she climbed in.
"Hi Pet!" he beamed. "How are you this morning?" he asked brightly.
"Hi Julio, thanks for the ride," she replied, closing the door, leaning back against the seat, her chest rising and falling as she took a deep breath.
"This is Mr. Wett," he told her, quickly introducing us.
"Pet?" I said softly. "That's an interesting name," I told her, spreading my legs slightly as she gazed curiously at my growing trouser bulge.
"It's short for Petra," chimed Julio from the from seat as we creeped through Midtown traffic.
"Ditto, Mr. Wett?" she giggled, leaning over slowly, kissing me on the cheek as she placed her right-hand on my crotch. "Is that really your name?" she asked, with an Eastern European accent, gently squeezing my balls, dragging her fingers firmly upward along the underside of my now hard shaft, moaning softly as she sized up its veiny length.
"It is," I told her softly, cupping her sweat beaded nape, pulling her closer, kissing her lips softly as her fingers gripped my cock tighter.
She eased away and tugged down the privacy shade on her side of the cab, then leaned across my body and tugged down the one on my side. I groped and squeezed her firm but tiny breasts through the tightly stretched fabric of her sports bra, letting her taut nipples poke between my fingers as she closed her eyes and moaned softy. My morning cab ride was about to take an erotic turn. Even though Julio was at the wheel, she was suddenly in control.
Petra unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unzipped the pants of my charcoal-colored Armani suit, sliding them down over my knees and around my ankles, releasing my thick hungry cock as I lifted my ass, then lowered it onto the cold vinyl seat of the cab.
"Commando Mr. Wett?" She giggled, letting her fingers glide softly over the bulging blue veins that cover the length of my shaft.
