Choosing Her Lover

*****

The performance over, and….

Did I see any of that….?

“I booked us a table at Luigi’s,” he says. “Is that alright? You like Italian?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Good. I made sure we would have a nice, intimate little spot, away from the eyes of the crowd.”

?????

What the hell’s he planning now?

The table is indeed ‘intimate’, tucked into a corner, away from the main body of the restaurant, and screened off by a wooden lattice and potted palms. We are, in a sense, visible from the main restaurant, but only to someone looking closely in.

We sit together, he holding out my chair to seat me. I’m unused to this kind of courtesy, but am beginning to take it for granted from Ryan.

What I have not started to take for granted is….

“They do a pesto spaghetti which is particularly good,” he remarks. “The basil grows in their own gardens at the back, and they make the pesto themselves.”

“You sound as though you know them well?”

“My mother is related to the chef.”

“You’re Italian?”

“Part Italian.”

“And the other part?”

“With a name like Dougherty? The other half’s Irish.”

“Who am I to argue with an Irish pasta expert? I’ll have the pesto spaghetti.” I say to the waiter.

“And I’ll have the same.”

The meal is, as promised, delicious, and I whirl coils of pasta around my fork. Sucking in the tail-end of one forkful, I startle as, below the table-cloth, my thighs are penetrated once more.

voice is a strangled

glances around our cubicle. “I like it here,” he says. “I told the waiters to give us plenty of privacy and,” he nods towards the trellis and plants, “no-one

that, his hand pushes in and up, and through my mouthful of food, I suppress a squeal as fingers plunge

earthquake in my flesh, I judder against the penetrating, delicious, invading, electric fingers, struggling to swallow long strands

food, but I want you good and expectant for later when I

My already swollen pussy is unfurling as he speaks. The fingers probing inside me are sending electric shocks pinging

the while “You’re still not coming yet. But this

he pulls free, wiping his

mouth with the napkin, talking behind it. “You’re drenched, Kirstie. Wonderful.

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

the river bridge from

had to park so far out,” I say.

it’s a lovely evening for a

it is,” I say, feeling warm and happy; tingling with arousal and the pleasant anticipation of arriving back

picked a quiet spot because I’m going

just

say, halting and turning to face him, “I think I misheard

back to

“But we’re parked in

And besides,” he gives me a cool look, “if I understand aright, you’ve often fucked in the

the

to go down, because that’s what’s going

at the car,

Master’s?…

from any

me.

hard, heart hammering and

car and bend

turn and lie over the bonnet, still warm from the

hips. My panties are worthless; soaked and

fingers inserting. “That’s good, Kirstie. I wanted to make you wait, to make you think about what I’m going to feel like inside you. I wanted you very wet, and you’re

pussy lips, drawing fingernails over sensitised and quivering skin.

fully dressed in his evening suit, but he pushes inside my pulsing pussy, thrusting a few times as he finishes opening me up. His cock is huge and warm and deliciously hard, and my hot cunt vibrates in welcome, clutching and

could