I Had a Complete Stranger Pick Me up From the Airport. To Thank Him, I Fucked His Brains Out.
Uber prices were surging, and I needed to get home. Desperate times call for sexy measures.
Taking a break from the “Love Your Mommy and Daddy” series, but it will be ongoing. I had a ton of fun writing those and am definitely interested in coming up with some other series, too.
That said, I haven’t written a piece without a paywall in a moment, so enjoy my free subscribers! (But also do consider subscribing.)
The last thing on my mind when I landed in JFK was sex. I was exhausted and had that unique fatigue you get after being on a plane. Not to mention that I felt gross—somehow both dry and sticky. (I guess that’s how my body responds to five hours of recycled cabin air.) All I wanted was to shower, smoke some weed, and eat shrimp nachos. (Shrimp nachos are my love language.)
But while taxiing to the tarmac, I saw that both Uber and Lyft prices were surging. It was $130 to get back to my apartment. I checked to see, if by some miracle, a new bullet train was running that would drop me off directly at my front door, but alas, no such luck. It would take three trains and a bus, totaling nearly two hours, if I took public transit.
Well, I nearly lost it and internally began throwing a temper tantrum. I’m just going to sleep in the airport until prices go down, I thought to myself. That’ll show them.
Who, exactly, was I trying to show? Unclear, but I was convinced that they MUST be shown.
To calm down, I hopped on Sniffies. Not because I was looking; rather, seeing big dicks and fat asses distracts me from my anger—a visual Clozapine of sorts.
After seeing a few juicy booties, I contemplated popping over to a nearby guy. I’d pump a quick load in his hole, and by then, prices should be back to normal.
But I quickly dropped the idea. I felt disgusting, had a ton of luggage, and needed to get my ass home. If I fucked anyone in this state, the sex would be terrible, and that wouldn’t be fair to the unsuspecting 23-year-old twink who spent the last thirty minutes douching.
Out of the blue, some good sex karma came my way: A man offered to drive me back to my apartment. (The cosmos must have been repaying me for sucking some lonely dude’s dick who really needed it.)
It was a weird vibe when he picked me up. He was double parked, and cars were honking. Airport security was yelling at us to move, even though every other car was also illegally parked.
He got out of the car to help put my luggage in his trunk, which was a nice gesture, but also, he wasn’t my actual Uber driver. I didn’t want him to feel like he was serving me or at least serving me that way. I shut the car door and gave him an awkward car hug over the center console.
“How was your flight?” he asked. I hate when Uber drivers ask me this question, but then again, he wasn’t my Uber driver. So I started making small talk with this stranger who, I knew, had a birthmark just inches from his asshole. (I saw it on all three pics of his ass he had sent me.)
I told him the flight was fine—no one actually cares how your flight was; it always makes for a boring story—then shared I was returning from visiting family, or a press trip, or a vacation. I don’t fucking remember.
But I do remember how uncomfortable both of us were. While I’m usually good at navigating awkward sexual situations, my brain was not working 100 percent. I was still in a daze from my flight.
When the conversation really started to lull, I knew I had to do something drastic. I’m just going to whip out my dick, I thought. That will set the tone.
To be clear, I don’t think whipping out your dick is typically the correct response in awkward sexual situations. Unwanted sexual exposure is, in fact, a crime. But this was one of the few times it was the right move. (I had also shared multiple photos of my dick, which he replied to with “Give me.”)
I was already hard, not because I was horny but because I always pitch a tent during awkward sexual situations. It’s like my dick knows it would be the worst time possible to have a visible erection, so it pumps blood there just to troll me. Take, for example, when I’m in a gym sauna, and the one (1!) straight guy enters and sits down next to me. That’s when I’ll pop the fattest boner. My cock is a little troublemaker—a lascivious pot-stirrer.
When I whipped my dick out, he did a double take. He then reached over the center console and started stroking me.
I let out a deep sigh, “This feels good,” I said. Those weren’t the sexiest words I’ve ever uttered, but I said exactly what my stupid brain was thinking: It felt good.
I could tell he was nervous—his eyes were darting back and forth—but it wasn’t my (pretty) dick that was getting him all jumpy. It was that we were semi-public. The people in the car next to us could easily peer in.
Still, he wanted that dick, so he went for it. (A man after my own heart.) At a red light intersection, he tried to suck it, but he was a pocket gay, barely five feet, and couldn’t reach over the center console. When the car behind us gave us a loud honk when the light turned green, he laughed. “Jesus fuck. Put that shit away,” he said.
For the rest of the car ride, our conversation flowed naturally. It’s amazing what a hard dick can fix.
When we returned to my place, I told him I needed to shower, but I wanted him in his jock when I got out.
“I’m wearing a thong,” he said.
“Even better,” I replied.
The shower brought me back to life. So did seeing his tanned skin in his bright orange thong.
He stared at me from my couch but didn’t move. I walked over and dropped my towel, revealing my hard cock. He was at the perfect sucking height.
He wrapped his lips around my head. “All the way down, then all the way up,” I said. He went deeper, taking every last inch. When he got all of me in his mouth, he gagged. “Good boy,” I said.
He started to speed up, but I knew that would make me cum. I placed a hand on each of his cheeks and slowly guided him up and down my cock. I then gave him a break. “Look up at me,” I said. “Open your mouth.” He did, and I spat directly in it.
“Do you like that?” I asked.
“Cualquier cosa por ti” (From being on a 455 consecutive day Duolingo streak, I knew this roughly translated to, “Anything for you.”
“Anything?” I replied.
“Si,” he said, looking up at me with what can only be described as “sub eyes.”
“Get on your back,” I commanded. He lay down on the couch. I pushed his legs behind his head. He was a flexible little fucker. With his ass now angled up towards me, I pulled his thong to the side and spat directly on his hole.
“Spread your cheeks for Daddy,” I said. He pulled his cheeks apart, and I dove in. There wasn’t a single hair on his body, and I loved how his smooth hole felt against my tongue. Eventually, I slid a finger in, and he squirmed.
“Relax, baby,” I said.
“Si, Papi. I’m just so tight,” he replied, biting his lip.
“Keep your legs there, behind your head.” I ran to my bedroom, grabbed a bottle of lube, and returned.
I got on my knees, my dick inches from his pulsing hole. I squirted some lube on my cock, and slowly slid it in.
“Ey, you’re so big, Papi,” he said.
“Breathe,” I said. I glided in, inch by inch until I felt his body loosen for me.
Once fully inside of him, I told him to open his mouth. This time, I didn’t spit in it. Instead, I gave him some of the messiest, open-mouthed, tongue-filled kisses.
I thrusted slowly at first, but he grabbed my ass and started pushing me harder into him. He clearly wanted a pounding, and I was more than happy to oblige.
We stopped kissing.
“Do you like being choked?”
I wrapped my hand around his throat and stared into his eyes. Neither of us blinked as I thrusted deeper and deeper. Every thirty or so seconds, I loosened my grip and let him take one big gulp of air before I pushed back down on his neck.
“Pah-pee,” he mumbled, struggling to speak. I let him breathe.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Don’t stop choking me; I’m cuming.” I looked down to see the front of his orange thong soaked.
“Oh, fuck,” I said. “I’ll cum, too.” I upped my speed and pressure around his neck and shot deep into his hole.
“Si, Papi!” he shouted.
“Si, baby!” I replied.
When we both finished, I gave him a big ol’ kiss.
“Wow,” I said, still inside of him.
“Wow,” he replied. “Oh, and let me know the next time you fly in. I’ll be more than happy to pick you up from the airport.”