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 a strangled

spaghetti while I finger you.” he chuckles, one-handedly scooping 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

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

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

Enjoy your food, but I want you good and

swollen pussy is unfurling as he speaks. The fingers probing inside me are sending electric shocks pinging through to my clit. My hips quake and jerk

working my inner muscles all the while “You’re still not coming yet. But this is your last appetiser. You get

free, wiping his hand on the immaculate white

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

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

walk back arm in arm across the river bridge from the Old City to the New, where Ryan’s car

had to park so far

he agrees, “but it’s a lovely

warm and happy; tingling with arousal and the pleasant anticipation

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

just hear

halting and turning to

think so.” he smiles. “When we get back to the car, I’m going

“But we’re parked in a public place.”

see in. And besides,” he gives me a

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

slowly. Give the sun chance to go down,

at the car, I consider my

Master’s?…

partially hidden by shrubs, and well away from any street lights. The setting sun is blushing shadows

me.

heart hammering and pussy

car

over the bonnet, still warm

worthless; soaked and sagging, and he tugs

wait, to make you think about what I’m going to feel like inside you. I wanted you very

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

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

anyone could