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.

My voice is

and winding brilliantly green noodles. He 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 else

mouthful of food, I

but disabled by the earthquake in my flesh, I judder against the penetrating, delicious, invading, electric fingers, struggling

your food, but I want you good and expectant for

going to take too long. My already swollen pussy is unfurling as he speaks. The fingers probing inside me are sending electric shocks pinging through to my clit.

all the while “You’re still not coming yet. But this is your last appetiser. You

his hand

dabs at his mouth with the napkin, talking behind

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

bridge from the Old City to the New, where Ryan’s car is

why you had to park so far out,” I say. “It’s

agrees, “but it’s a lovely evening for a

it is,” I say, feeling warm and happy; tingling with arousal and

picked a quiet spot because I’m going to bend you over the bonnet,

just hear

and turning to face

don’t think so.” he smiles. “When we get back to the car, I’m going

parked in a

parked in the shadows there. You can see out, but they can’t see in. And besides,” he gives me a cool look, “if I understand aright, you’ve often fucked in the clubs with an audience, and enjoyed

don’t get arrested in the clubs. It’s still daylight,

Give the sun chance to go down,

at the car, I consider my

Master’s?…

any street lights. The setting sun is blushing shadows over the spot, and the car is shrouded in shades of green and

me. “Stand

hammering and pussy aching, I obey

to face the car and

warm

My panties are worthless; soaked and sagging, and

“That’s good, Kirstie. I wanted to make you wait, to make you think about what I’m going to feel like inside you.

pussy lips, drawing fingernails over sensitised and quivering skin. As I whimper, behind

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 clenching at

anyone could see