The Gay Men’s Cab Ride

Not long after I married my ex we began to explore “alternative” sexual scenarios in our filthy little minds. One morning I dropped her off at work and headed downtown to the porn and sex shops district to get some swinger mags and porn for us to titillate ourselves and perhaps delve into the swinging scene. As there was not yet an Internet in 1977, if one wanted porn they had to go to such places for adult entertainment.

I parked a block away on the empty streets – it was a Sunday morning and the streets were empty. As I walked to the porn palace I was approached by a little rotund gentleman who walked with me, chatting out of the blue. Within seconds I got his drift when he said “Sometimes I meet sailors and stuff and we go have a little fun. I usually give them some money. Interested?” I smiled and said no, but I did thank him all the same – I was a tiny bit naive and 20 years old, as well as a polite bugger. I have since laughed many times at my own naivety.

My ex and I split up and got back together, but during the near two year split I drove a taxicab in the major east coast metropolis I was from. Anyway, one day I am leaving the entertainment district of the downtown metropolis area when two men hailed my taxicab. I pulled over and in they jumped. One was a huge, and I mean huge red haired kid about 22 or so looking. He had short hair, freckles, a shock of neatly trimmed red hair and a rather mean look on his face. He looked like a badass and given his size, and his constant scowl, I’m sure he was.

Accompanying him was a short and slightly pudgy little man. He was familiar, but I didn’t know why. I carried hundreds of fares per week, so seeing a vaguely familiar face was not uncommon. Any how he tells me where they want to go and tells me to take my time about it. That was new to me. Most fares are in a hurry and want ya to go the fastest and cheapest way possible.

After a couple of minutes I could see them whispering and then the sound of what sounded like someone vigorously rubbing a piece of material – ya know, as if one rubbed their hands on their pant legs in a speedy manner. I didn’t really pay too much attention. I was driving. After another couple of minutes I noticed they were sitting almost side-by-side. Then the rubbing sound got more pronounced and deliberate.

Then the light bulb went off! This little man was the one who’d propositioned me two years before when I went to the porn palace downtown. Now it was clear. He looked up and could see I knew what was happening. He, the little guy and obviously the paying customer, smiled at me in the mirror and said “Driver, may I ask a question?” He saw my name on my hack license and addressed me by name. He then proceeded to inquire, very politely I might add, if I minded if he and his “friend” “nuzzled” was the word he used, in the back seat of my taxi. I was dumbfounded at what to say. This was a new on on me.

I replied whatever went on in the back wasn’t my business, and he took that to the bank. Within moments he and the big redheaded thug were tongue kissing and then I heard the zipper. I tried not to look, but I occasionally caught glimpses in the rearview mirror. The little man was jerking off the thug and by the motions of the little gay man, he had a handful, for his movements indicated he was wrestling with something large.

I did my best to not get intrusive. I am no wilting flower or Casper Milquetoast, but the redheaded thug behind me was big and mean looking. The last thing I needed was him deciding to get physical. I am a big man, but he was bigger and he was sitting directly behind me. I kept one eye on the road and one on the big thug. I had a Buck Knife in a sheath and he could not know that so I quietly opened the sheath, removed the knife and when the taxi radio was chattering I opened the blade and laid it on the seat under my manifest clipboard. If he jumped me I was gonna knife his big ass – no doubt.

Anyway, as the cab ride neared it’s terminus the little gay man said to me, “It’s that tall building over there” referring to his apartment tower. We pulled up out front and the fare was like $8.50 or so (1978 or 79 remember). He tossed a $20.00 and said “Keep it. You are a very nice and tolerant young man. And here’s my card if you’d ever like to get together!” I sorta chuckled, under my breath mind you, as let’s not forget the thug with him.

He then asked for one of my “cards” and as my company had radio dispatch, we had business cards, so I filled in my name and cab number. Many times over the next 18 months when he felt inclined to have sex in the back seat of a moving taxi he called me. I bet I made $300 in tips in that time off him alone. I even took to keeping paper towels and Windex in the trunk, just in case I ever had to clean the back seat, but not only was he a horny little bastard but he was a fastidious one too!

They exited my taxi and the the thug crawled over the seat to get out the passenger back door. As he did so he leaned down and smiled for the first time as he closed the door. I looked at the big ape and said “Enjoy!” He smiled and said “I will. Thanks man!”

In fact, if one is a gay man looking to cruise, drive a cab. I can’t tell you the number of times gay men got in my cab and within 2 minutes would announce “I’m gay. Would you like to meet me for a drink later?” This happened dozens of times in the two years I drove a taxicab in that metropolis. I had a conversation with one of these gay men. I asked “Why does this happen to me so often?” and proceeded to tell him about the dozens of times gay men propositioned me almost immediately upon closing the cab door.

The man I was discussing this with flattered me with, “Well, many gay men are effeminate and as such desire to be with big, good looking masculine men, and Honey, you are one of those!” He was very nice, overtly gay, but very polite so I was not disturbed and after all, he was a paying customer talking with me. It’s not like he was attempting to fondle me, so no harm no foul as far as I was concerned. He detailed how gay men love random sex encounters and love muscular men, and I was a big, muscular 22 year old – long haired, mustached and I guess desirable as far as the local cock suckers were concerned. If I had been inclined I could have made a living boning the homos. And I’m cool with gay people. Like Seinfeld says “Not there’s anything wrong with it…”

This story is absolutely 100% fact as it happened.