Ever have a story so hot it would be wrong not to share it with the rest of the world? We're here to listen. Each week, we'll bring you tempting tales from our readers that will definitely keep you up all night—in the best way possible. This time, Casey* meets a denim-clad stranger and goes on a very wild ride.
Back up — where did you guys meet?
I was at a rooftop party with a bunch of girlfriends and made eyes with a guy wearing, of all things, a denim vest. I complimented him on it because he stood out. And because he was good-looking.
But be real. Were you into the denim vest at all?
I was just looking for an excuse to talk to him. We started flirting, and as the party was shutting down, we exchanged numbers. But he was really playful and engaging—like, he seemed very into it—and so I decided I didn’t want to wait, and I left with him.
Here comes the cab!
Yeah. We got stuck in traffic with about 40 blocks to go, and we started making out. And then the making out got heavier—you know, bodies shifting into position. Before I knew it, I was lying down with my head against the door and he was on top of me. I was wearing a dress, so my skirt was hiked up.
Still, there’s a big leap between that and backseat sex.
We were sort of dancing around it, but we couldn’t pretend that we both weren’t thinking about it. I don’t think either of us actually intended to have sex in a cab, but my panties came off and then it was just sort of…happening! Once we got started, we both just went for it.
Did the cabdriver notice?
Not at first. Then we were driving up an empty street, and the cabbie turned around quickly, did a double take, and said, “Are you fucking her? Are you fucking her?” And he pulled over.
Oh my God. While you’re still having sex?
What did you do?
We stopped pretty quickly and just said, “No. No. No. No. Keep driving. Do not stop right now.”
Were you anywhere near his place?
We were close. He kept driving, and we collected ourselves. Then the cab pulled up to his apartment building, and I bolted out, panties in hand. And the driver yelled out to the doorman, “He was fucking her!”
The cabbie completely blew up your spot.
Completely. But you know, in the heat
of the moment, we were kinda fine with that. Like, there was no real harm done.
So what then? Was the mood ruined?
Oh, no. We went up to his place and got back to it. And the next morning, my girlfriends made fun of me for going home with a guy in a vest.
*Names have been changed
Photos by Getty Images