It's 1:30am on Friday night and I stumble out of one of the many yuppy watering holes that litter the financial district of San Francisco. I had let one of my female coworkers who has a fondness for gay men strong arm me into drinks after work and before I knew what was happening, it was 1am; we were all drunk; and she was whispering in my ear that she loved me. Okay, time to go.
I started walking down California Street, keeping my eye out for any available cabbies and bitching to myself about how I would not be making it to the gym the next morning given my current condition. As is the usual in San Francisco, I was not seeing any cabs -- available or otherwise. Why is it that when you always need a cab they're never there?
Just when I was preparing myself to walk up Nob Hill to get to my apartment which was on the other side (if I was going to miss the gym tomorrow the workout would do me good, right) I heard the rumble of a cable car behind me. I was surprised that they were running this time of night -- the last car usually runs at 1am or something. But given the steep hill I was about to climb, I wasn't about to press my luck so as soon as it stopped at my corner, I dashed across the street and jumped on board.
The California Street cable car line is a bit different than the Powell-Hyde or Powell-Mason lines that serve the city. Unlike the others that pretty much only schlep tourists from one tourist trap to another, the California line often takes locals (like me) given that it doesn't end at a tourist destination (there is nothing to see at Van Ness and California Streets except a Wells Fargo and a Starbucks) and it also runs past residential areas west of Nob Hill. The cars on the California line are also double-ended which means they are bigger than the others and you will often get a seat during rush hour or, like this trip, you will be the only passenger in a big car.
I jumped on near the back of the car and next to the gripman who tonight, was a big black dude wearing a huge MUNI winter coat and a hat on top. Usually there are two men that work each car -- the gripman who controls the car and another near the front of the car who takes fares. I looked towards the front and the fare-taker was slouched down on one of the benches so I figured this would be a free ride (given that this line is the least popular of the three, they often let you ride for free).
But once the gripman got the car moving down the street, he turned to me and said, "Six dollars, man." Really?? I was pissed. First off, I thought, it's 1:30am. Second, I'm the only one on this trip and likely will be the only one on the trip. Third, I don't look like a tourist -- I still have my work slacks and shirt on and am carrying my computer bag too! But I take out my wallet anyway to retrieve the fare only to find nothing inside -- I used the last of it to buy that final glass of bourbon that did me in. Uh oh.
"Um, it looks like I don't have any cash on me, sorry," I told the gripman. "Can you give me a break this time? I live here and have ridden for free before."
"No can do. They're cracking down on us. Everyone gotta pay now, man," the dude shook his head while shifting the grip. Seeing as how I really didn't have any cash he added, "You either gotta pay or get off."
Maybe it was the alcohol, or how much I was dreading the walk up the hill, or the fact I had been staring at hot straight guys all evening -- you know, all in flat fronted slacks that shows off their tight asses in the back and leave little to the imagination in the front, particularly when getting a chubby around a girl. But I had an idea.
"Look -- maybe we can work something out," I said to him and making sure I caught his eye. I quickly looked at the other employee, out of earshot of us near the front of the car, and at California Street, which was dead at this time of night, than back at his eyes, than down at his crotch and than back up at eye level. I licked my lips and smiled.
"Now what the fuck you talking about," the gripman said but the glimmer of recognition that passed across his face told me that he knew just what I was talking about and even better, that I had a shot. Before he had a chance to think or say anything else, I quickly got up and around the benches to where the grip was and got down on my knees. At this point, I was feeling quite the rush but kept expecting him to pull away or shout at me -- a dreaded possibility given that I would be going back to an empty apartment and another "date" with my right hand. He didn't move away or say anything. I had him!
I quickly managed to undo his belt, buttons and zipper -- a miracle for me given that I always fumble around miserably with other guy's pants. Before I knew it, I had pulled down his boxers and cupped them underneath his big hairy balls and watched his thick flaccid black dick roll out. Immediately, that smell of cock, sweat and a bit of piss -- basically a wave of testosterone -- hit me like and I was in the zone like that. His cut cock, even flaccid, looked to be as thick as my wrist and a big vein running up the side. A fine specimen of manhood if I ever saw one.
"Where have you been hiding all my life," I asked him.
"Shut up and suck it," he said quickly. He looked a bit nervous, keeping an eye on his friend near the front and any potential fares up ahead. The space I was kneeling offered some privacy from the street but all bets were off if someone were to jump on the car.
Needing no further encouragement, I immediately engulfed his whole dick with my mouth -- no time for playing with the head or licking his balls. Besides, I love that feeling of a half-flaccid thick dick in my mouth. Feeling it grow while its still in my mouth, like what was happening with the gripman, is a big turn-on for me. Before long, the head of his deck was pushing against the back of my throat.
The car suddenly began its abrupt climb up Nob Hill, causing me to lean further into the guy who quickly re-positioned his feet and, still holding the grips, began thrusting deeply into my mouth. This guy was big no doubt about it and I wanted him, and his cum, badly. I tried to relax as much as possible and breath through my nose and before long, I was deep throating it. Or rather he was deep throating me -- given he was doing all the work -- thrusting his big, black, veiny sausage down my throat until his pubes were pounding my throat.
He started breathing heavily and talking dirty. "Damn -- you a good cocksucking bitch," and "fuck that's good," and even, "Damn -- you even suck better than Vernita."
I braced myself against the benches and let him do all the work. Turning my mouth into his cock receptacle. The smell of his manliness filled my nostrils and kept me in the zone. Not only do I really love sucking dick, I thought to myself, I really love sucking black dick.
The gripman was breathing very heavy now. "Damn -- you some white cocksucking bitch, ain't ya." I tried murmuring an assent but my mouth was being stretched by his thick black dick. Meanwhile, the cable car was climbing past the darkened streets of Chinatown, on the way up to the posh hotels and condos of Nob Hill.
"Well you about to get your reward, bitch."
His thrusts began coming in rapid fire succession and I knew he was close. I also really wanted to have him fill my mouth with his cum so when he began pushing deep into my throat for the final time, I pushed back until his head was in my mouth and immediately, my mouth was filled with shot after shot of creamy white jizz.
Closing my lips around the head of his dick, I could feel his dick pulse with every new volley of his baby-making cream. And it didn't stop -- this guy obviously hadn't cum in awhile and I was in cumslut heaven. I reluctantly swallowed a mouthful of his jizz and was about to await the next load when a loud deep voice boomed behind me.
"What the fuck is going on here?" The fare-taker, another big black guy had made his way back and come upon the scene of me on my knees with the gripman's cock in my mouth. The gripman, suddenly shocked by the intrusion, pulled his dick quickly out of mouth even though he was still cumming. Strings of cum erupted from his dick and shot across my face and workshirt. I knew I should have been ashamed at the sight of some 20-something professional kneeling on the floor of a dirty cable car with a dude's cum all across my face and in my belly but I was at the point of no return here, obviously. And my own dick was as hard as ever, pushing against my slacks.
"Man, this bitch couldn't pay the fare so he payed in favor," the gripman said. His dick hung in front of him now and before he had a chance to put it back in his pants, I licked the last remaining drop of cum from head.
"Now that ain't right," the fare taker said ominously and I suddenly was brought back to reality -- this might be trouble.
"Be cool dude," the gripman said, putting his dick back in his pants.
"Nah -- that just ain't right! I'm the fare taker. Where's my fucking favor?"
Could I really be this lucky?
"Follow me," the fare taker said to me gruffly, walking into the interior of the cab. I leave the gripman at his controls, the cable car is now slowly working its way past the Fairmont Hotel, and follow the fare taker into the middle section of the cab. Unlike the ends of the car which are open to the elements, the the middle section is surrounded by glass and doors on either end. The fare taker reaches up to switch off the light and while he is reaching, I spot a growing bulge in his MUNI-issued tan slacks. As if I couldn't be any hungrier, the sight of his growing dick pulls me to my knees instantly. The cab is now dark with the only light coming from the streetlights outside and the lights of the Mark Hopkins and Fairmont Hotel above us.
His cock is already hard by the time I take it out -- not as thick as his buddies but just as long. Again, I let the smell of his masculinity roll over me before I dig in and go to town on his dick. My throat already loosened from the gripman, it accepts my new friend's dick quite easily and before I know it, my nose is pressed against his curly pubes.
"Yea," he moans. "Get that dick nice and slick."
I work the head of his dick -- now fully engorged -- and bigger than the shaft. I make sure I work my tongue around the head before engulfing it again. We just start getting into a rhythm, or rather I try and get a rhythm started by reaching around and pulling his hips into my face but it looks like he has other plans.
"Stand up," he says. In the darkened cab, I can't make out the features of his face but I start having a hunch on where this is going. He roughly pulls open my belt and practically rips my workslacks open. At this point, they are stained from the dirt of the floor and some drops of the gripman's cum so I don't care. He lets them drop to the floor, along with my boxer briefs. His hand bypasses my cock and instead reaches around back and finds my hole -- and my weak spot. I moan.
There is a shout from the outside. We are at the corner of Taylor Street and California Street and some guy is trying to flag down the cable car. The gripman ignores him and the cable car sails right through the intersection. At this point, I can't tell if the guy on the sidewalk can see in but the idea of his spotting me with the faretaker's finger in my ass is a huge turn on and I quickly lose what remaining inhibitions I had (I know, you're shocked, right? Me inhibitions??)
The faretaker turns me around and leans me over one of the benches inside. I stare out at the hills of San Francisco glittering like jewels past the Masonic Temple as I feel the head of his dick, bare, making contact with my hole (one of my favorite feelings.) Still, one last remaining inhibition.
"Wait," I say breathlessly. "You got a condom? I don't do bare."
The fare taker gives a deep laugh. "You're doing it tonight, sweetheart."
And with that, he pushes his huge dick inside, lubricated with my saliva and his pre-cum. As expected, I feel burning pain at first and I almost tell him to stop but then the head pops in and he's suddenly all the way in. I can't help it -- I'm so turned on right now I start moaning uncontrollably.
He must realize we need to be quick because he wastes no time banging me. I mean, he grabs my hips and just goes at it. I feel so used, so much like a bitch -- so fucking hot! He's really banging me hard now and I swear I can feel him going deeper than any guy ever has before. I have to brace myself against the bench or else I'd be afraid my head would go through the window.
"Yea bitch, take it," he says, slapping my ass.
I moan whorishly, "Give it to me. Make me your bitch."
"Oh I'm gonna give it to you, baby."
As his thrusts quicken, I think about how I already have his buddies load in my belly and on my face and soon will have his cum in my gut. My own dick, throbs at the thought and bounces around against my tight abs.
"Here it comes baby," the fare taker says.
"Oh yea, give it to me," I moan, not caring if they hear me outside anymore. "Fuck me! Make me your bitch!"
I turn to my left and I can barely make out the gripman, silhouletted with the Bay Bridge behind him. I swear I can see him grabbing his dick while he watches us fuck.
The fare taker suddenly grips my hips hard and plunges his dick inside me. I can actually feel the pulses of his cum inside and I'm in heaven.
"God damn," he says. "You're one hot piece of ass." He slaps my ass one more time before dismounting.
I quickly pull my pants up and grab my computerbag just in time to see my stop coming. As I leap off the cable car, thinking about how I can't wait to get home and jack off with their cum all over me, I look back, "Thanks for the ride, fellas."
They give me a wave as the car begins to once again rumble down the street. "Damn, I love this city," I think to myself as I walk home.