Date: Mon, 19 Mar 2001 22:42:47 EST
From: cybercavan@hotmail.com
Subject: Moving Violations - Transit Trash III

Moving Violations -- Moving Violations
Mick Maxwell
Copyright 2001

The stud was a vague shadow in half-darkness  - only his enormous cock and
the faint trace of rippling stomach muscles were visible under the pinpoint light
mounted above his webcam. Liam smiled at his computer screen as he watched
a seemingly disembodied hand reach in from the shadows and grasp the swollen
dick head. Nimble fingers slyly stroked the engorged knob and a trickle of pre-
cum pearled down from the slit and disappeared into the dark.

Liam swallowed involuntarily, desperately craving a shot of that anonymous
cybersperm. The Irishman grabbed his own meat and began to flail away, hoping
to spout his cum at the same time as the featureless stranger's own eruption.

Liam had recently sprung for an upgraded computer and the installation of a DSL
line, blowing half of his recent bonus money in one major techowad.  It was well
worth it: in the weeks following his purchase, Liam had been riveted to the flat
screen in his spare moments, discovering for the first time the wild world of on-
line gay sex.  Sure and it was only virtual sex but it beat the shite out of standing
around in the single seedy campus gay bar, trying to bag one of the local lads.

Liam had never previously felt that he was over the hill, but amidst all these
tender youths of 20, he felt like fookin' Methuselah. Worse yet -- shaved heads,
tattoos, and club music bored him way, way beyond senseless.  Everyone looked
alike -- hiphopped and pierced.  Okay -- so the club scene in his hometown of
Dublin wasn't much better but, Jaisus Mary and Joseph, you could at least count
on good crack (the Irish slang for conversation) and plenty of laughs.  And
maybe he was just being a eurotrash snob but christ, if one more of these
yummy but tedious yankboys said,  "like, y'know", all piped in that singsong
valleyspeak one more time (which was every third sentence), Liam was going to
revert to his boxing days and punch `em out just to shut them up. Then he'd fuck
`em sillier than they already were. He smiled at the thought.

Cybersex was much, much easier: it was silent, on command and a lot cheaper
than the wasted hours and overpriced drinks at a bar.

All these thoughts tumbled around in his head as he approached his climax. The
stranger was edging in closer to the `cam, the huge stiff meat swollen and red -
ready to blast. Liam closed his eyes, his thick Irish meat gasping for relief when
there was the sudden blast of a car horn in the driveway.

Startled, Liam glanced at the clock and screamed, "shite! " Although it was
nearly 10:00,  his pickup time for his trip to the airport was 10:30. He thought
for sure he would have time to shoot his wad, shave and shower before his
upcoming international travel ordeal began.

Abruptly abandoning his ethereal lover, Liam strode to the window, swearing
mightily. His rigid white meat swung heavily side to side, protesting the delay in
shooting its weighty white cum. Throwing up the sash, Liam stuck his head out.

Sure enough, it was the fookin' taxi, 30 fookin' minutes early!   A slender dark
boy climbed out of the car and shouted up at Liam, "I am so sorry for being so
early but it is very easy to get lost in these roads -- yes?"

Receiving no reply from the fuming Liam, he tried again. " I did not want to be
late -- yes?"   A graceful gesture indicating both abject apology and defense of
professional honor was executed with shrugged shoulders and hand movements.

The driver persevered. "You want that I will wait for you, or perhaps, I can take
down your luggage?"

The driver's puppyish air to please tickled Liam, despite his unresolved lust.  And
although the driver was far below in the street, Liam received a definitely fey
impression. Liam's remaining aggravation quickly evaporated as he reluctantly
acknowledged the justice of the driver's comments.

Liam lived with his cousin Moira in a large ramshackle house in the depths of the
Berkeley hills. Many of the streets were more like paved deer trails than
residential roads and few people found his address on the first attempt. His
house was perched almost invisibly amidst the redwoods and rhododendrons and
had a drop-dead view of San Francisco across the Bay.

Liam grabbed his kimono robe from the bedpost and thoughtlessly threw it on.
He ran back to the window and leaned out again, shouting, "The side door is
open. I'll bring down the luggage."  He quickly calculated how long it would take
to finish wanking and do a quick shower. He should have plenty of time: the
fookin' driver could just turn off the meter and sit in the taxi.

The driver nodded and disappeared from view. Liam grabbed his suitbag and
headed to the top of the steep wooden stairs.

His bedroom, tucked under the eave of one of the many dormer windows on the
third floor of the wood-shingled house, was more of an aerie than reasonable
living quarters. It suited Liam just fine; it was private, surrounded by trees and
had its own entrance.  The only problem was the three flights of bluidy stairs
which were vertiginous in slope and which made negotiating them with luggage
(or after a drop to drink) a bit hazardous. Clearly, only domestic help had lived in
these rarified heights during the house's heyday -- probably 1910. Liam had
always gotten a kick out of the fact that one of his Irish ancestors had probably
occupied the same space years ago -- as a servant. Now, with housing at a
premium in the Bay area, Liam considered his heavenly nook to be a godsend.
And his cousin Moira was the easiest of landladies -- not at all concerned with
Liam's nocturnal activities and tolerant of the strange noises that emanated from
the aerie when Liam actually scored and brought home a trick.

Liam heard the driver open the unlocked side door three floors below. The
Irishman began to muscle the heavier second bag to the top of the stairs,
stopping at the railing to readjust his grip.  Light footsteps echoed up the shaft,
stopped and then the driver called out, a little breathlessly "It is still up, yes?"

Liam looked down. The driver's face had leaned out over the railing of the floor
below and looked up at Liam.

 Sunlight from the stairwell skylight struck a handsome brown face. No more
than 19 or 20, the boy had dense black-blue hair, deeply set brown eyes and
skin the color of fine tobacco. Soft red lips smiled over a closely shaven chin with
a sexy cleft. The driver broke suddenly into a blinding white smile - his formerly
apologetic demeanor vanishing.

Liam raised his eyebrows -- the driver was a real hottie -- definitely a tasty bit of
tandoori chicken, thought Liam lewdly. His always-ready rod sprung back into
life.

Liam returned the smile and waved the driver up with his hand. However, the
driver remained where he was, his smile growing, his eyes fixed on Liam. The
Irishman, puzzled and a little annoyed, suggested sarcastically, " Don't worry
about the altitude, I have an oxygen tank ready if ya get woozy." Still the boy
didn't move.  More impatiently, Liam snapped,  "If you need a hand up, just let
me know. "

The boy recalled himself, shook his head and replied blushingly, "I do not think
that it is I who need the hand in this instance, sir."  His formal manner of
speaking was belied by the look on his face -- mischievous and sexy.

Liam suddenly got it - the kimono!  Light, comfortable and very, very short, it
was a gift from his best mate, Michael, who had been to Japan earlier that year.
And as Liam was standing almost directly above the cab driver, the handsome
young Indian must have a great view of his still-hard dick and fat hairless balls
hanging low between his muscular white thighs.

Challenged by that saucy smile and eager not to waste time, Liam casually
unloosened the knot of the robe that fell open to reveal his hunky sportsman's
body, the morning sun falling onto his smooth white skin and copper colored hair
through the skylight.

The driver's eyes widened in obvious admiration and he moved quickly up a half
a dozen stairs.  His face was now parallel with the railing against which Liam
stood. The boy glanced at the burgeoning cock and then up again at Liam's
lustful face. He licked his ripe lips.

 A surge of lust shot through Liam.  His blatant plug of fat Irish meat lifted up
and away and with unerring precision, lodged between two of the staircase
posts, like a potato barge comin' to berth, inches from the driver's mouth.

"Although a hand would be of grand assistance, I think a moist Madras mouth
might get the job done quicker."

Liam knew he was taking a chance by assuming the hottie was an Indian - for all
the Irishman knew, the driver might be Pakistani  - and woe to him that mistakes
the two, Liam knew from experience.

The driver slowly licked his hips, staring hungrily at Liam's throbbing cock.  He
then reached up with one slender brown hand and began to very slowly stroke
the bloated white shaft. Liam groaned softly. After weeks of virtual sex and
remote jack off sessions, the touch of the driver's hand sent him into orbit.  Up
and around Liam's cock, and then down to the low hanging hairless balls, the
smooth hand slid, with a touch like silk.

The driver drew his face forward and let the Irishman's massive dickhead rest on
his lips, their moisture holding Liam's cock in place. Liam groaned, wanting so
badly to pry open those cherry-colored lips, shove his meat rudely into the boy's
mouth and shoot the churning wad in his swollen nuts.

The driver had other ideas. He quickly unbuttoned his thin cotton shirt and pulled
its out of his trousers. With dart-like movements, he shrugged his arms out of
the sleeves and let it fall to the stairs.

Liam stared down at the wide shoulders and smooth muscles of the brown torso,
no body hair marring the finely-pored skin and thin, boyish body.  The driver
parted his lips and stuck his shocking pink tongue over Liam's knob.

Liam couldn't help it. As soon as the hot mouth opened, he shoved his steaming
meat in as far as it would go, causing the boy to choke momentarily. But just as
silken as his hands, the Indian's driver's throat relaxed and the swollen shaft slid
further in, causing Liam to groan aloud.

The boy reached up to Liam's bullish nuts and quickly nipped the hairless sac
between his long fingernails. The Irishman felt a sharp electric stab of delicious
pain that caused his already massive erection to blossom further inside the
tropically hot mouth. A second pinch on a different part of his scrotum caused
Liam to almost faint. In the back of his sex-hazed mind, Liam finally understood
that the Kama Sutra wasn't just bullshit -- the driver was playing his autonomic
system like a fookin' sitar!

His suspicion was realized when the driver drove a long thin finger into a hidden
muscle juncture between the thigh and pelvis - Liam's hot asshole contracted
involuntarily.  Aware of the imminent avalanche, Liam pulled his cock out of the
boy's mouth just in time to see a torrent of steaming cum explode onto the
driver's naked chest and shoulders, sprinkling the smiling Indian like water from
the Ganges -- thick, odorous, sacred.

Spent, Liam leaned his shaking arms against the railing, unable to move. He was
dimly aware that this driver had begun slowly wiping the splattered jism all over
his brown skin, a radiant smile on his face, as if he had just blown Brahma. In
fact, he looked just like one of those charioteers of Hindu myth, the nubile
companion of some butch blue god.

 Liam drew in a shuddering breath and gasped, "can.. you do that.. again..
sometime -- after I have me heart transplant? Mine has fookin'  stopped for
good."

The driver laughed. " I would be honored, Mr. ..."  The cum covered hottie
paused and drew a paper from his pants, glancing at it. " Mr... Tarkowski."

"Tarkowski??" The Irishman frowned.

Silently, the boy handed Liam the paper who stared at it bemusedly.  Clint
Tarkowski, 807 Quercus Road.  Liam's next door neighbor. The driver had shown
up, gloriously, at the wrong house!

The Irishman burst out laughing. No wonder the driver was early! Seeing the
driver's bewildered face, Liam choked out, "next door, my sexy charioteer, next
door."  The boy slapped a hand over his mouth in comic dismay.

Liam laughed again." I do apologize if I have delayed you. "  The boy blushed
furiously in embarrassment.

"I..I  believe I must pick up Mr. Tarkowski now." Clearly flustered, the boy
scrambled into his shirt. They stared at each other for a brief sizzling moment
and then the driver was down the stairs in a clatter of footsteps, a faint scent of
cum and cumin lingering behind him like a vapor trail.

Showering and shaving quickly, Liam grabbed his coat, shut off his PC and bolted
recklessly down the stairs with his luggage. He was locking the door when he
saw a different cab pull up, the driver obviously looking for the address.  The
cabbie idled the car and seeing Liam asked, " This 805?"

Liam nodded and then smiled as the driver wrestled himself out of the car. Fat,
dumpy, disgruntled. No nubile charioteer, this one.

"You gotta share the cab and I gotta drop him off before we go to the airport,
OK?" Not waiting for an answer, the cabbie opened the car door and
unceremoniously grabbed Liam's bags.

Liam bent slightly and peered into the cab. On the other side of the cab sat a
middle-aged businessman, looking pissed. Liam sighed silently and glanced again
at the driver. The morose, sullen figure was as far from the radiant Indian boy as
humanly possible. He got in the taxi.

Liam immediately noted that, contrary to driving regulations and common sense,
the driver had plastered over most of the plexiglas separating the front and back
seats with a piece of newspaper. The driver clearly did not want to see or be
bothered by his passengers.

The cab pulled abruptly away from the curb and bucketed over the worn
pavement, the driver apparently deliberately aiming for every bump and hole.
The businessman cursed quietly and loosened his tie. He stretched his legs
forward and closed his eyes in pained resignation. Clearly he had not had a good
ride.

 Liam studied him covertly and made his snap assessment: overstressed
executive type, probably with a high-powered corporate wife who doesn't put out
and difficult children who cost him a pretty penny. On the other hand, he was in
good shape and unless Liam was mistaken, sported a pretty hefty basket
between those expensively tailored legs.

The taxi swerved perilously around a blind corner and Liam leaned in closer to
his cabmate and sniffed discreetly: the dick-hardening smell of expensive
aftershave and the almost imperceptible hint of tense sweat filled his senses.
Liam licked his lips and wished he could bury his face in the man's pits, licking
the heady sweat off with his hot tongue. So vivid was this fantasy that Liam
surreptitiously grabbed his crotch and squeezed it tightly.

Lord, he had just blown his load and here he was wantin' to shoot again!  What
was it about public transportation that gave him a stiffie every time?

Liam smilingly reminisced over his two previous public transportation escapades
(Transit Trash I and II).  Since his last exploit on the San Francisco light rail, Liam
had looked in vain for a transit trick.  Well, maybe he would branch out a bit --
taxi trash this time? He smiled again -- nastily.

The Irishman glanced up at the driver's rear view mirror. The driver had his
baggy eyes fixed on the road, oblivious to anything but his own misery. Assured,
Liam began to check out his companion's basket in earnest: definitely hung and
wearing boxers. He could see the soft arc of a big dickhead and the heavy
swelling of his nuts.

Liam dropping his sweating hands to his lap and watching the closed eyes of the
stranger, began to smooth the palm of his hand over his growing meat, willing
the man to awaken and turn his eyes towards his stalker.

The taxi hit another pothole -- a big one this time, and the man's eyes snapped
open, exasperation and weariness evident in equal share.  Liam took his chance.
Laying on his stagy Irish brogue, he teasingly asked the business stud. "Would it
be an inconvenience if we should make a quick stop to a dentist before the
airport?  Faith and begorrah, I think I just broke me new crown."

The man smiled slightly in response and husked out, "that's okay, just as long as
we can fit in a chiropractor - I think this fuckin' idiot has just blown one of my
disks!"

Liam's cock leaped. What a fookin' sexy voice -- deep, butch, lazy. The Irishman's
cock strained under his hand.

Risking all in his surge of lust, Liam asked in a mock bewildered voice, " one of
your dicks? And here I thought ye Americans were like the rest of us mortals --
one dick per man and that one surely never blown enough."

His cabmate exploded in laughter, his tired eyes lighting up in a way that sent
Liam's heart pounding.  At least his handsome stranger wasn't offended and the
way he laughed, Liam knew that he had a chance to pursue his quarry --
temporarily at least.

His sexy cabmate shook his head in rueful amusement. "No, no, my equipment is
just like yours, pal, and as for enough blow jobs.." He shrugged,  leaving the
sentence unfinished.  Liam decided to up the ante, knowing that this whole
lighthearted banter could blow up in his face. He took a deep breath.

"Well, at the risk of soundin' impertinent, but what I can see of your equipment
bears favorable comparison with me own and since ya seem to need some
immediate attention to your dick..er..disk, I'd be more than happy to oblige ya,
no chiropractor being in the immediate vicinity, y'see."

The stranger stared at Liam, his face turning red and then white.  Liam waited
for the angry comment or even a punch. Instead, the stranger licked his lips
nervously and involuntarily, his eyes falling from the Irishman's mischievous,
lustful gaze.

"Gotcha!" thought Liam gleefully. Liam lifted his hand from his crotch, his huge
meat obvious under the tight denim. He caught the man' s quick glance at his
hard on and smirked to himself. Definitely a taker!

The man looked up at Liam again and whispered, "But the driver...?" Liam smiled
and reached over to the man's crotch and gave it a reassuring squeeze. The man
flinched and then smiled uncertainly. Liam's guess was confirmed -- under his
hand was a thick club of a cock, already hot and beginning to get hard.

The Irishman slowly stroked the stiffening rod to life, the stranger's expensive
trousers beginning to tent as the cock inflated. Liam then drew down the man's
zipper slowly, teasingly. Like a breaching whale, the rigid dick broke through the
gap in the boxers and surged out of the zipper.

Liam shot another look at the driver -- still oblivious, still miserable, still largely
concealed behind his paper shield. He bent over and wrapped his lips around the
man's cut dickhead, it's bulk completely filling Liam's mouth.  The man gave a
soft groan, grabbed Liam's tousled curls with both hands, and forced the
Irishman's head down -  hard. Liam smiled to himself -- the guy was definitely in
need.

Liam swallowed more of the bloated dick, burying his nose in the man's crotch
hair that held the same scent of sweat and pricey cologne that had tantalized
him earlier. He slowly slid back up the shaft, running the rough of his tongue
along the coursing vein. Stopping at the corona, Liam gave the man a tiny taste
of teeth that drew another soft groan.

Liam reached forward and rudely hoisted the man's nuts out of his underwear,
causing the man to wince as his sac scraped against the zipper. Liam grabbed
one swollen `nad between his thumb and finger, relishing its weight and glossy
moistness. He squeezed it softly, watching the man's rigid face. Slowly exerting
more pressure, he smiled as the man began to arch his back -- pain and pleasure
evident in the quivering thigh muscles and the sexy mouth that had begun to
pant.

The Irish sadist grabbed the other swollen nut and fisted them both, extending
them up and away from the open trousers. He bent once more and began to flail
the nuts with his tongue and running his hastily-shaven chin across the sensitive
surface of the sac.

His prey's face was bright red with controlled passion, his eyes open and staring
at the ceiling glassily, obviously lost in the heat of the moment. The expert
brutality of Liam's tongue and hand was having its' effect -- his fat meat was
beginning to leak pre-cum. The Irishman dropped the nuts and sank his mouth
back over the quivering shaft, ready to take the blast. It didn't happen.

The man grabbed Liam's hair roughly and yanked the Irishman's head off his
dick. Liam drew back, surprised and pissed -- he wanted to taste that hot cum
was so bad.

The man's face was paler now and his eyes were focused and hot.  He stared at
Liam and softly snarled, "Not so fast, pal. Not until I see your hot dick." Liam
stared at him speechlessly: this wasn't in the script at all.

"Come on, you Irish whore - drop your drawers and get it hard. We don't have
all day."  Liam's dick jumped in his pants like an obedient dog to his master's
command.  He swiftly unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down over his
hunky thighs. He peeled back his skimpy briefs, his rigid meat hitting his
stomach in a spring-like action.

The man stared at the hot nine inches.  "Okay, pull down your jeans below your
knees." Liam bent awkwardly forward and tussled the tight denim towards his
boots.

His cabmate reached over and drew a finger along Liam's inner thigh from knee
to crotch. Goosebumps blossomed over the Irishman's legs in response. The man
then slid his hand across the glossy hair of Liam's crotch and pulled on it, lifting
the skin of his pelvis. Liam's dick slid toward his hand in an arc. The stranger
withdrew his hand and with no warning flicked Liam's dick head hard with his
strong fingers, causing the Irishman t o yelp.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch," the man hissed. Not to worry, Liam thought. A quick
glance showed that the cab driver had donned a headset, completing his
separation from his passengers. The man's trashy talk had sent Liam's heart
racing. So much for his notion of a conventional businessman in need of a kindly
blowjob!

The man grabbed Liam's dick and began to jack it roughly. He drove his other
hand underneath Liam's nuts and ferreted towards the Irishman's hole. A searing
pain in the Irish stud's anus told him that the man had found his target.

"Nice, real nice," murmured the man as he inserted another finger into Liam's
straining bunghole. He plunged his fingers back and forth, rasping the sensitive
skin. His other hand tightened on Liam's dick causing it to grow purple with
constricted blood. Liam knew he was going to shoot and fookin' soon. Once
again, he was surprised. The man withdrew his fingers and staring at Liam,
wiped them on the seat.

"Turn on your side." Liam shifted, turning his back to the stranger, wondering
whether a taxi seduction was such a good idea, after all.

"Bring your knees up on the seat and stick that hot whore-ass towards me," the
stranger commanded.  Liam complied with his request, knees pressed against
the door handle. He heard a rustle of cloth and the tear of a condom packet. He
felt the seat shift and then the head of that huge meat knockin' for entry.

Liam hated being a bottom -- it meant a loss of the sexual dominance that Liam
thrived on. But here, in this rapidly overheating taxi racketing along the
redwood-shaded hills of Berkeley, with this sadistic business stud about ready to
pork him, Liam couldn't care less. All he wanted was to feel that sweaty dick
shoved up his ass. He got it - and then some.

The businessman thrusted forward, sinking his weapon in one brutal plunge that
caused Liam to grown aloud. A hot hand clamped over his mouth followed by an
intimidating whisper. "Another sound and I stick my fist up there along with my
dick -- you get my drift, pal?" Liam nodded.

The man dropped his hand and fumbled for Liam's cock. He began jerking it
slowly, matching the pace of the huge dick which was now pistoning in and out
of Liam's asshole, heedless of the pain it was causing the younger man.

The man reached under Liam's shirt with his other hand and roughly pinched his
tit. He leaned his head forward towards Liam's ear and began to murmur
roughly.

"You like the feel of ten inches up your tight ass, pal? Come on, squeeze down
on it, make daddy happy. Oh yeh, you got what it takes, alright. I'm gonna shoot
my wad in your hot hole and then you can suck the dripping jism off my dick.
But first, I'm gonna make you shoot that fat cock all over my hand. On yeh, I
can feel you ready to squirt. Let it rip, you fuckin' whore, shoot your load!"

Liam obliged with a vengeance, cum erupting in a fountain of fire all over the car
door, the seat and the man's hand. Liam's body spasmed with the fury of it.  At
the same time, the man gave one final thrust and blasted Liam's aching
bunghole, the latex swelling as it struggled to contain the load.

Liam's ravisher raised his sopping hand to Liam's mouth and barked another
command, "lick it clean, bitch." Liam began to lap his own cum, amazed at his
slavish behavior -- totally unlike himself. But his throbbing hole and aching dick
told him that maybe being a bottom wasn't such a bad gig, after all.

Cleaning himself up as much as he could, Liam eased around, allowing his aching
muscles to relax. His assailant had pulled the condom off his still hard dick and
thrust it under the seat cushion. The man leaned back and pointed at his sticky
cock. "Get your hot mouth down here and finish the job." Liam leaned over and
slid his tongue over the remnants of the mighty load, the smell of cum, sweat
and cologne now mixed it a heady aroma.

The Irishman went down on the man and with a single loud suction, swiped the
rigid shaft clean. The still-hot cum went down Liam's throat like vintage brandy.

The man thrust his dick back in his pants and zipped up. Liam silently followed
suit, still wondering at his own behavior. His cab mate glanced out the window
as the cab emerged from the redwoods and rocketed down into a commercial
zone.

The stranger imperiously knocked on the cabbie's window and shouted, "hey,
asshole, this is my stop. I told you the Commerce building on Solano."

The cab screeched to a halt, throwing Liam forward. The stranger turned to Liam
and smiled. "Nice job, whore. See ya around."

As the cab sped off towards the airport, Liam ran a gentle hand between his
legs, liking the aching feel emanating from his ravaged hole.  He continued to
stroke his softening meat and allowed his mind to draft towards his impending
trip. He could grab a quick shower at the airport before his flight took off for
Germany and grab a bite to eat. Maybe even log on and find his cyberstud!

Liam suddenly stopped his mental list-making and laughed.  No sooner had he
cum then he was lookin' for the next sexual opportunity.  Truly, he was trash --
but definitely best at transit trash. He mentally ticked off his adventures: trans-
bay S&M, light rail three-ways, taxi rape -- what the fook could be next?  The
sliver glint of a jet passed over the Bay Bridge. Liam laughed out loud -- of
course, the Mile High Club!  Transatlantic trash, here I cum!

The End