Saturday, 2 January 2016

Getting a rise from a triathlette

One slow Saturday afternoon, I got a job from Kingston and raced to the address out of fear that the job would be stolen by another taxi driver as it was on a main road.  I cannot confirm or deny whether I broke the speed limit.  When I got to the address a fit looking bloke with a small suitcase and a laptop bag got in the taxi.  He said "Airport mate, I'm off to do a triathlon in New York with my girlfriend who lives there."  I gave my usual line of "No worries."  He asked me whether I had a girlfriend and I said "No, two years, plenty of dates but no luck yet."  He responded, "There's someone for everyone."

As we drove along he opened his laptop and started chatting with girlfriend via skype.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw that she was only wearing a bra and panties and, boy, was she fit.  They started chatting about the triathlon and then, all of a sudden, she flashed her landing strip which I caught out of the corner of my eye.  My passenger shouted "Boy, are you throwing this taxi driver a BONEr." I admit it got a rise out of the accelerator.

I like a landing strip,
a place to park my rocket.
But prefer a Tasmanian bush,
a place to hide my snake.

JE Pervert 2016.

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