The Streets of New York


by No Name

I have a buddy who lives in New York City. He's about five years younger than I am, but very successful in business. A nice figure. He most enjoys getting it, and I go both ways, which means that he is usually the bottom.

I see him once or twice a year, when I am in the City. Unfortunately, his place is not safe for meeting. (His live-in girlfriend might not understand!) So we meet in my hotel room, which is not exactly a private venue. We can play around a little bit, but nothing very loud. We'd both like to do more, but discretion wins out over pleasure. You know how thin hotel walls are, especially in New York.

Then I had a great idea for his 31st birthday. We went out on the town that evening, after dark. I went up to a cab driver waiting near a hotel (not my hotel). I picked one with the appearance of a guy who has seen everything. Before getting in, I gave him a $20 dollar bill. I told him just to drive around, especially through Central Park, and that he would get an even bigger tip when we were finished. My friend and I got in the cab, and soon I had him over my lap, spanking the seat of his pants. The driver saw what we were doing, but gave no reaction. After a little bit, I peeled down his trousers, and began whaling on his brief-clad butt. This was getting to be more fun. A while later, his briefs came down and I was spanking his naked posterior. We were mostly in the dark, but occasional flashes of light from streetlamps or headlights would illuminate the scene. He was squirming all over my lap, loving it, his hindquarters a deepening shade of pink. I could tell from the rear view mirror that the cabbie was getting an eyeful whenever the driving conditions permitted. I do not know whether people in passing cars were looking, but if they were, they would get quite a surprise. I kind of hope we were seen, since our anonymity was assured. If so, I wonder what they were thinking.

Eventually, my friend had taken enough. I let him readjust his clothing and regain his composure. Then I tapped on the glass to ask the cabbie to drop us off at one of my favorite bars -- the sort of place with lots of martini drinkers in fashionable suits, elegant women, and high stools around high tables. I looked forward to watching my friend sit uncomfortably on the stool, trying to act as if nothing had happened, even though, just minutes before, he was riding bare assed around the streets of New York City getting the spanking of his life. Not the sort of thing a man of his position wants other people to guess.

The fare was $37, and I gave the driver three 20s. As we got out, the cabbie smirked at my friend, and told him, "Happy Birthday." I never saw a man blush so deeply.


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