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

while I finger you.” he chuckles, one-handedly scooping and winding brilliantly green noodles. He glances around our cubicle.

his hand pushes in and up, and through my mouthful of food, I suppress

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 get

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

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

that, he pulls free, wiping his

talking behind it. “You’re drenched, Kirstie.

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

walk back arm in arm across the river bridge from the Old City to the

don’t know why you had to park so far

agrees, “but it’s a lovely evening

warm and happy; tingling with arousal and the pleasant anticipation of arriving back at

a quiet spot because I’m going to bend

I just

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

get back to the car, I’m going to fuck you over the

to panic. “But we’re parked in a public place.”

he gives me a cool look, “if I understand aright, you’ve often

in the clubs. It’s still

Give the sun chance to

at the car, I

Master’s?…

away from any street lights. The setting sun is blushing shadows over the

me. “Stand

and pussy

the car and bend

lie over the bonnet, still warm

are worthless; soaked and sagging, and

my sex, 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

drawing fingernails over sensitised and quivering skin. As I whimper, behind me there is

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

could see