Fake Taxi Hot Asian stripper gives the driver a full on sex with a stripper experience [Fake Taxi]

The door slides open with a rancid hiss of old springs, and she’s just sitting there, bare-legged, her skirt hiked up to her hips, a stripper’s smile on her face. The cab’s neon lights flicker over her thighs, her skin glistening like it’s been oiled. She’s got a hand on the seat next to her, the other resting lightly on her knee, fingers tapping out a rhythm that matches the pounding in my chest. She’s got a purse in her lap, but it’s not for money. She leans forward, her tits brushing against the headrest, and whispers, “Ever had a stripper in your cab, driver?” Her breath is hot on my neck, and I can smell her, sweet and sickly, like cheap perfume mixed with something muskier, dirtier.

I can see the glint in her eye as she speaks, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. She slides a bit closer, her hand now on my thigh, squeezing, her nails digging into my jeans. She leans in, her mouth by my ear, and she’s speaking low, filthy words, her voice a husky purr. “I want you to fuck me like you’ve never fucked anyone before,” she says, her hand moving up, unzipping my pants, pulling out my cock. She strokes it, her fingers cool against my heated flesh, and then she’s sliding down, her mouth enveloping me, her head bobbing as she takes me deep, her gag reflex kicking in as she deepthroats me. Her mouth is a wet, sucking heaven, her saliva dripping down my shaft, coating her chin. She pulls back, a string of spit connecting her lips to my cock, and she grins, her eyes watering. “Let’s give you the full stripper experience, shall we?” Her hand is between her legs, rubbing her pussy through her soaked panties, her hips bucking against her own touch. The cab fills with the smell of her arousal, thick and heady, as she prepares to ride me hard, her body a writhing, sweaty mess in the back of my fake taxi.