A wet January afternoon, a black cab, and the filthiest two hours of my twenty-third year.
Lily’s London Ride: A Black Cab Confession is the fifth instalment in my Naughty Adventures series, and it’s possibly the filthiest yet. Set one week before my twenty-fourth birthday in January 2024, this is the confession of what happened when I spent an afternoon buying sex toys in Soho’s grubbiest shops, got myself wound up being watched by dirty old men, and then made the mistake (or the best decision) of hailing a black cab driven by a fifty-two-year-old Londoner with The Knowledge, an Arsenal scarf, and an absolute obsession with eating arse.
Terry Walsh wasn’t handsome. He wasn’t rich. He wasn’t anything like the polished BDSM enthusiast from my Christmas Eve adventure (Book 4). What he was, was honest, filthy, and possessed of a tongue that could make a grown woman forget her own name. Within twenty minutes of getting in his cab, I’d gone from “King’s Cross, please” to stripping off in the back seat and inserting a butt plug whilst he watched in the rear-view mirror and navigated London traffic. If that sounds insane, you’re absolutely right. I did it anyway.
The sex itself? Two hours in a cramped black cab parked in a dead-end Victorian mews, windows steamed to opacity, the diesel engine still running, and every surface slick with sweat and lube. He rimmed me until I came twice just from his tongue. He used my brand-new ten-inch dildo on my pussy whilst his mouth stayed exactly where it was. We did 69 in the back seat (the logistics were absurd and perfect). Then he fucked me: on top, doggy, and finally, carefully and intensely, in my arse.
The anal scene in this book is detailed, explicit, and written for readers who want to know exactly what it feels like. I describe the prep, the stretch, the specific pleasure-pain of being fucked in the arse by someone who knows what they’re doing and isn’t in a hurry. There’s arse-to-mouth. There’s his cum leaking out of my pussy and into my jeans on the train home. There’s me directing him to photograph my used body on my phone because I wanted the evidence for later. This is hardcore erotica with no apologies.
Then there’s the stranger. Halfway through the aftermath, a man walking through the mews spots the rocking cab, stops, investigates, and knocks on the window. Terry looks at me. “Your call, love.” I wind the window down two inches. Cold January air rushes in. The man unzips. I suck him through the gap whilst Terry plays with my pussy from behind. He cums in my mouth. He walks away. We laugh ourselves stupid. That moment, more than anything, sums up this book: audacious, absurd, authentically filthy London at its finest.
This story is the direct counterpoint to Book 4’s Kensington penthouse. Same month, same girl, completely different world. No silk restraints here, just sticky vinyl seats. No Laphroaig whisky, just stale coffee and Marlboro Reds. No wealth, no orchestration, just two people who wanted the same filthy thing at the same time and had ninety minutes to make it happen. It’s grubby British realism: the smell of the cab, the creak of the seat, the comedy of cramped positioning, the specific unglamour of fucking in the back of a fourteen-year-old TX4 whilst London carries on outside.
Themes covered: age gap (29 years between us), working-class masculinity, rimming as a primary kink, extensive anal play, toy use during partnered sex, 69, dirty talk, voyeurism, exhibitionism, public risk, vehicle sex, anonymous encounters, cum play, arse-to-mouth, photography for solo use, and the contrast between economic classes in modern London. Also: my own shamelessness, my inability to say no when my body says yes, and my continued belief that the filthiest experiences make the best stories.
The book is 19,000 words, a single-session read, structured as a confessional narrative. I break the fourth wall constantly. I talk directly to you. I acknowledge you’re reading this to get off, and I’m fine with that because I got off living it. The sex scenes are long, detailed, and written to the explicit standard my readers expect. If you’ve read my previous confessions, you know I don’t do fade-to-black. If you’re new here: welcome, and I hope you’ve got an hour free and your bedroom door locked.
This is stand-alone erotica. You don’t need to have read Books 1-4, though if you have, you’ll appreciate the continuity of my voice and the progression of my sexual journey. Every book explores a different kink, a different scenario, a different stage of my life. This one happens to be about a cabbie with rough hands and a talent for making me scream into black vinyl upholstery whilst his diesel engine hums and the windows fog over.
I’m Lily Corbett. I’m twenty-seven now, writing this from my flat in Stevenage with a cup of tea and a vivid memory of how his tongue felt and how cold that January air was when I wound the window down. I have no regrets. I’d do it again tomorrow. And if Terry’s reading this: mate, you were fucking brilliant. Thanks for the ride.
Book 5 in Lily Corbett’s “Lily’s Naughty Adventures” brand new series of confessional hardcore and taboo erotica. 19k words
Published 18th April on Amazon eBook, and free to read on Kindle Unlimited. UK AMAZON | USA AMAZON | CANADA AMAZON | AUSTRALIA AMAZON
TRIGGER WARNING
Content Warning: This book contains material some readers may find distressing, including:
- Explicit sexual content and graphic descriptions
- Age gap relationship (52/23)
- Anal sex and rimming (anilingus)
- Arse-to-mouth (ATM)
- Sex toy use (dildos, butt plugs)
- Vehicle sex in semi-public location
- Voyeurism and exhibitionism
- Anonymous sexual encounter with stranger
- Dirty talk and degrading language
- Photographing of explicit sexual acts
- Strong profanity throughout
All characters are 18+. All sexual activity is consensual.
