Fake Taxi – Juicy Italian teen rides huge driver cock

So the whole fake taxi italian thing happened when I was visiting my cousin in Rome, and honestly, I wasn’t expecting anything to come from that boring Tuesday afternoon, but then this absolute unit of a driver pulled up in this beat-up Fiat and gave me a look that just said get in and I did, and the way he drove through those narrow streets had my heart racing before we even said a word, and when he finally parked in this shady little alley off the main road, the air got thick and I could feel the heat from his body as he turned around in his seat, and he didn’t say much, just reached back and traced his fingers along my thigh, and I swear my skin was on fire under his touch, so when he told me to climb over to the front, I didn’t hesitate, I just swung my leg over the console and landed right on his lap, and that’s when I felt exactly why he was so confident, this thick, hard length pressing up against my denim, and I couldn’t help but roll my hips just a little to test him, and he let out this low growl that made me feel so powerful, and then he unbuttoned my jeans right there, pulling them down just enough to get access, and I reached for his belt because I needed to feel him, all of him, and when I wrapped my fingers around his cock, it was warm and heavy and so damn smooth, and he guided me into position, sliding my panties to the side before pushing into me with this slow, deliberate pressure that had me gasping against his neck, and the way he filled me up in that cramped front seat was unreal, every inch stretching me until I was completely seated on him, and then he grabbed my hips and started moving me up and down while whispering dirty things in Italian that I only half understood but felt all over my body, and the windows fogged up and the suspension creaked and I didn’t care, I just rode him harder until neither of us could think straight, and when we finally came together, it was this messy, breathless, perfect finish that left me trembling in his lap, and all I could do was laugh and kiss his sweaty forehead before he zipped up and drove me to my cousin’s place like nothing had happened, but I knew I’d never look at a taxi the same way again.