Fare Game
Very simple idea. Just sex. You might recognize one of the characters...this takes place in the Forester U. world. As always, you can see my latest writing and news about writing at http://www.livejournal.com/users/kyellgold/ --drop by and say hi! * * * "Fare Game" by Kyell Gold Every cabbie's got his 'weirdest fare ever' stories. Pashad had a guy pay him a hundred bucks to drive around the block for an hour. Got out at the end of the hour without saying another word. Silene had a ferret couple, drunk, who told her to drive to the airport, then fell out of the cab at a red light and hailed her again and got in and told her to take them home. Pierre had not one, but two pregnant rabbits in his cab at the same time and they gave birth within five minutes of each other. Maybe my story don't top those, but I wouldn't trade it for any of 'em. Listen up, I'll tell you what happened. It was around 1:30 in the morning, and I was cruising the bars over in Calique. Only they don't have bars in Calique, they got "clubs" and "lounges." Main difference is people there pay fifty, sixty bucks to get soused, where downtown in a good bar you can get wasted on a couple pitchers and still have enough change from your ten to play a couple songs on the juke. Between one and two-thirty in the morning is what we call "prime time" around the clubs, on account of that's when the rich kids stagger out into the street and need some way to get home. And the more liquored up they are, the bigger the chance you'll get a big tip. Course, you run the risk of puke in the cab, too, but when you've run the clubs a few times, you get an instinct for when someone's gonna hurl. It's worth it to get that twenty for a five-dollar ride. I'd spotted a likely-looking couple, an arctic fox and a skinny li'l tiger. As I pulled up to the curb, I checked 'em out. The fox was dressed to kill, in a fancy blue silk jacket, a light purple shirt open at the chest, and short pants that matched the jacket. Outfit probably cost more than I'd pull in in a month. The tiger, on the other paw, wasn't wearin' much of anything, just a pair of black shorts that was pretty tight. He was pretty trashed, leaning on the fox's shoulder, laughing a lot, swaying back and forth. I saw that the fox had a paw on the tiger's butt, and that explained what they were doing together, and why the tiger's shorts looked especially stretched in front. Didn't bother me. Money spends the same no matter whether the fare is gay or straight, dressed or naked. The fox obviously had money, so my only worry was that he might not be drunk enough to leave a big tip, 'cause his boyfriend sure didn't have a wallet anywhere I could see. After it took him three swipes to get his paw around the door handle, I felt better about that. "Need a paw?" I said as he pulled the door open and tried to cram his stripey friend in. "I got it," he said roughly. The tiger was giggling, and stuck a paw between the fox's legs. "Oh, you shure do got it." "Just get in, Dilly," the fox said, but he was grinning. The tiger slid across the seat and let the fox get in and close the door. "We gonna do the thing with him, Davis?" the tiger said. "He's cute. Look, he's an otter!" He was studying my picture, which was not the best photo I've ever had taken, but wasn't bad. "I can see that," the fox growled. "Hey," I said, "I got a gun here. No funny stuff." I've been robbed once. I don't really have a gun, but usually with drunk people it don't take more than a mention to calm them down. "Nothing like that," the fox said. "We're going to Forester University, Oak and Ridge Streets. You know where that is?" "Yeah," I said, and pulled away, my heart sinking. There went my big tip; they were college kids. Oh well, at least it'd be about a twenty dollar ride. I might get twenty-five if I was lucky, and then I'd have to come all the way back here and prime time would almost be over. They rustled around a bit in the back seat, but I was busy gettin' over to the main street to get to the bypass and I didn't see what they were doing. I made the turn onto the street, and suddenly the tiger was squirming between the seats, 'til his torso was level with mine. He reached over to the passenger seat and found the lever under it to slide it forward, giving himself more room. "Hey," I said, "stay in the back." He turned toward me and grinned, and between his teeth he had a hundred-dollar bill. "I got a p-proposition for you," the fox said. "You let Dilly here blow you on the way there. If you finish before we get there, the blow job is your fare. If you don't, you get to keep the hundred." The tiger was waving his head back and forth, making the bill wiggle in the air. His paw crept forward to rest on my leg. "Gotta decide fast," the fox said, "otherwise the deal's off." Hundred bucks would make for a very nice night. And I ain't never been one for cheatin' on the wife, but I figure this ain't cheatin'. Blow jobs aren't really sex. And yeah, he's a guy, but a muzzle is a muzzle, and that's never something the wife was all that into anyway. Not that I go out and look for it, mind, but would I turn it away when it's literally right in my lap, a soft paw rubbing at my thigh? Maybe if I'd had more time to think about it. "You're on," I said, and the tiger dove right to work, shovin' the hundred under my leg and undoing the fastening on my pants with one paw. Even drunk, he managed it pretty fast. Experience, I guess. His paw slid into my pants and closed around my sheath, and he called back, "Hey, Davis, he's into it." Yeah, I was getting hard already. Tell me you wouldn't be. He giggled, and that was the last thing he said for a while. He ducked his head under my right arm and then I felt his warm tongue pressing against me. It was weird for about two seconds, and then I stopped caring. I kept my paws on the wheel and kept an eye out for cops, because we were breaking half a dozen different laws. But it was one-thirty in the morning and I was driving down the freeway doing a very legal fifty-five, so there was no reason for them to stop me unless they looked in and saw the little tiger licking up my cock over and over. Before long, I was all the way hard, and before much longer, he took me all the way in. I caught the motion out of the corner of my eye a moment before I felt the warmth slide down over me. That seemed like a good time to lean back further and rest one elbow out the window, and I couldn't resist glancin' down and looking at the orange and black striped head bobbing up and down in my lap, the orange of the highway lights going by makin' it even more surreal. He was good, too, soft muzzle, tongue pressing in just the right spots, teasing all the places a guy likes to be teased. I pressed down on the accelerator, speeding up, because I wasn't sure anymore that I could get there before I blew my wad. Dilly, if that was his real name, seemed to be makin' it a personal goal of his to win the bet for his fox. He had his lips and tongue working and it was harder and harder to focus on the road. I'd never had anything like this before. Let's just say that the one time the wife did try it, it took about half an hour and ended up involving paws. The way this kid was sucking me off, I figured I had maybe five minutes, tops, unless I could distract one of us. We were just past the Carter Expressway exit when the tiger started makin' this "mmf" sound around my cock and rockin' back and forth. I looked in the rear view mirror, and damned if that fox hadn't gotten his boyfriend's shorts down and started humpin' him right there in the back seat. And that distracted me, but it wasn't really the right kind of distraction. I couldn't see much, but I saw the tiger's tail waving around and the fox's paws on his hips as he pulled them down, and I think it was because I couldn't see more that I found it kind of hot. I was trembling all over and had to work to keep an even speed. I sure didn't want to start driving erratically because then the cops would be sure to notice me. So I got off the freeway one exit early. Figured if I had to focus on surface streets, that might help. It'd take a little longer, but another mile on the freeway might've done me, and thinkin' about the exit did help a bit. Plus the kid was starting to lose some of his concentration. I guess it's not easy to focus on two cocks in you at once, not that I've ever even had one. I had about twenty blocks to go and the tiger's mouth was going up and down as his body shook back and forth. Mine was starting to shake too, my hips wanting to pump up into that gorgeous little mouth. I stopped at a stop sign, looked both ways, and looked down at that hundred. The blow job wouldn't be a bad fare, but I wanted the hundred too. I had to put both paws back on the wheel. They clenched tight around the plastic as I struggled to hold it in. He sucked hard, pressin' with his tongue right at the tip of my cock. I gasped, my paw stamped on the accelerator, and the cab screeched around a curve. I was dripping like crazy, I knew, and there was no way I was going to make it another fifteen blocks. Then for some reason, the kid stopped. He hung on to me, but stopped licking, and instead started making a whufflin' noise around my cock as his body shook harder. I realized I could hear the fox moaning from the back, too, and when I glanced in the mirror, I saw the fox's paws slammin' the tiger's butt back into his lap, and it wasn't hard to figure out what had taken the tiger's attention. The thought only briefly crossed my mind that I hoped the tiger hadn't come all over my floor, because I had no doubt that he'd come somewhere. I was more focused on relaxing myself. Thirteen blocks to go; one traffic light and five stop signs. The kid started in again, slurping up my length and teasing at the tip. Little bastard knew we were in the homestretch and he meant business. And he was good. I could feel his lips and tongue all the way down in my damn toes, and as he started moving faster, I slammed on the gas. He started makin' throaty purring noises, and Christ, I didn't think it was possible to get turned on any more, but I was, with him going down on me and his motor running like that. My balls were tightening up and I could feel the rest of me following suit. Wasn't going to be long now. There weren't any cops around. There wasn't anyone else around. I blew the last two stop signs. "Hurry, Dilly," the fox said from the back, sounding amused. I bucked up into his muzzle and let out a small squeak. Two blocks now, my heart was racing, and I started counting down the seconds as my body shuddered, tingling all over. I kept my foot pressed down on the gas and my paw on the wheel and raced my cock to the finish line. The tiger helped my cock along, licking fast and hard, his lips stroking and pulling my climax up out of me. I crossed Larch Street and slowed down approaching Oak just as the pressure got to be too much. I gasped, holding it in for a precious three seconds more as I coasted to a stop, reached over to flick off the meter, and let out a loud moan as I exploded into the tiger's mouth. "Oh, oh, OH!" I yelped, but the tiger only caught the first wave in his muzzle. As soon as I flicked the meter off, he started lifting his head and wrapped his paw around me, stroking quickly to help me finish. The fox watched my expression in the rear view mirror, a wide smile plastered across his muzzle. "That was a photo finish," he said, and I moaned, coming down from the climax. "Well, Dilly? Did he win?" "By a cock tip," the tiger giggled, licking his lips. "I just got a little taste of him. And a paw full." "You can clean up at home," the fox said. "Goodnight, Mr. Findar. You can keep the change. You earned it." The tiger wriggled back into the back seat and followed the fox out the door. I saw a wide dark stain on the front of his shorts as he hiked the back up over his bare ass, and stopped worrying about my back seat. I didn't much feel like drivin', so I watched the two of them walk down the street, the fox's fluffy tail waving beside the tiger's curvy flowing one, and I took out the hundred and held it up to the street light. I had to clean up back at the depot, cause the tiger didn't catch everything in his paw. Driving back, I left the window open and rested my elbow out of it, feeling the air rush by, half-lidding my eyes as the streetlights flashed by along the familiar road. I grinned out at the empty lanes, knowing that every time I drove this stretch of road, I'd see the orange lights and think of the orange and black head bobbing up and down in my lap. What did I tell the wife? I said, "Honey, I got an eighty-dollar tip today. We're going out to dinner!" Hey, it's a great story, but only for the right audience.