She had had an unusual amount of fight in her for a while. But the way her eyes answered his warning stare made him confident that wouldn't last. Culler entertained himself with the feeling of dominating her head, and forcing her lips to rub against him. Her frightened breaths were hot, and he breathed slower when the feel of her whines echoed into his still clothed cock. He let his head drop back, staring at the dirty cab ceiling as he forced her to make friends with the filling limb through the denim. He stroked the edge of the bottle's bottom to her head to urge her on. As good as this self-applied petting felt, he'd rather have the real thing.<br/><br/>Emily, always Talia's weakness, was enough to motivate her in the end. He swallowed with some excitement, assumptive, when her hands moved to do his bidding. She was immediately given the freedom she needed to play with the sipper. Culler relaxed further when he felt her compliance and petted her hair almost affectionately. A small huff signified that he enjoyed her quaking fingers on the cock that had made her acquaintance many times already, before her tongue joined in. Once again she'd succumbed to his force, and his prize was very motivating. Culler let his caresses move on down to the back of her neck, like she was some well-behaved pet.<br/><br/>As she did what she could for the rigid flesh, her desperation and fear translated well into her technique, he noticed that the man who might at some point been her last hope had become a fan of the show. Culler nodded into the mirror, to allow the voyeur, and stroked her hair up and back to allow the driver to see her face as she stuffed it with cock. He stroked her temples to keep strands from falling back and grunted now and then to let her know she was doing a good job. Culler took another swallow of the vodka and ran his fingertips through her hair, over her scalp, to reciprocate with tingles through her skull.<br/><br/>"Hey, park in that alley over there." he said suddenly. If Talia would look up to see what it was about, or protest since she wanted to get home sooner than later, he'd push her head back down, expecting her to continue her treatment of his now saliva painted limb. Well in the alley, the driver seemed to understand, and finally had his hands free to tend to himself while he enjoyed the show in the backseat. It might be distressing to Talia, that a man that could have had an impulse to help her was now entertained by her distress, inferior cock out while he was at work, watching her eat Culler's fat and lengthy meat.<br/><br/>The driver soon concluded his self-care over the lower edge of the steering wheel, and wiped it up with the sleeve of his shirt before continuing their journey, while Talia was left with the still rigid, stubborn cock to slobber and suck on. Culler was lulled enough by the alcohol that he evenly reapplied to coat his mouth and throat to build quite the endurance for her tongue. A cocksmith like Mr. Clements had an easy time deciding when and when not to deposit his wealth of lust. In fact, he lasted until the car stopped. He grinned when the driver didn't even look at the passengers for his payment. Culler, who figured the show was enough, still left a few bills on the backseat after they went for her door. He had his jacket over his waist, a not so discrete way of concealing his state while he eagerly awaited to see what her home looked like.