Fake Taxi – American Creampie in London goes crazy

In the grimy backseat of a cab that smells of stale smoke and desperation, the driver’s eyes meet mine in the rearview. He’s a slick-haired prick with a smirk that promises trouble. I’m dressed like a schoolgirl, skirt hiked up, thighs slick with anticipation. He knows what he wants, and I’m here to give it to him. He reaches back, fingers digging into my knee, tracing the lace edge of my pink panties. “You’re a long way from home, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he rasps. I don’t answer, just spread my legs wider, letting his hand roam up my thigh. His fingers hook into the waistband, tugging them down slowly, exposing my shaven pussy. He groans, his other hand leaving the steering wheel to fondle my tits, pinching my nipples hard. The cab swerves, but he doesn’t care. He wants to fuck, and he wants to fuck now.

I lean back, spreading my legs wide, inviting him in. He doesn’t need a second invitation. He pulls over, the engine still running as he climbs into the back, his cock already hard and throbbing. He flips up my skirt, his eyes feasting on my bare pussy. He spits on his hand, rubbing it onto his shaft before positioning himself at my entrance. With a grunt, he slams into me, his hips pounding against mine. The cab rocks with the force of his thrusts, my tits bouncing wildly. He grunts and curses, his cock pounding deep, chasing that creampie. His fingers dig into my thighs, leaving bruises as he fucks me harder, deeper. I can feel his balls slapping against my ass, his cock hitting that spot that makes me scream. He growls, his body tensing as he explodes inside me, his hot cum filling my pussy, dripping out onto the cab seat. He collapses on top of me, his breath ragged, his cock still twitching inside me. The cab sits idle, the only sound our heavy breathing and the drip of his cum onto the seat.