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

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 can see what

and through my mouthful of food, I suppress a squeal as fingers

the penetrating, delicious, invading, electric fingers, struggling to swallow long strands

your food, but I want you good and expectant for later when I get my cock

fingers probing inside me are sending electric shocks pinging through to my clit. My hips quake

close to me again, working my inner muscles all the while “You’re still not coming yet.

that, he pulls free, wiping his

at his mouth with the napkin, talking

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

arm in arm across the river bridge

don’t know why you had to park so

it’s a lovely evening

warm and happy; tingling with arousal and

I’m going to bend you over the bonnet, and fuck you til

I just

to

to the car,

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

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,

in the clubs. It’s still

walk slowly. Give the sun chance to go down, because that’s what’s going

car,

Master’s?…

of the parking lot, partially hidden by shrubs, and well away from any street

head-points me.

hammering and pussy aching, I obey

face the car and bend forward, hands

warm from the dregs of the sunshine, my arms

pushes my skirt up to my hips. My panties are worthless; soaked and sagging, and he tugs them

cups 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

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

anyone could