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

you try to eat 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 privacy

and through my mouthful of food, I suppress a squeal

the penetrating, delicious, invading, electric fingers,

I want you good and expectant for later when I get my

take too long. My already swollen pussy is unfurling as he speaks. The fingers probing inside me are sending

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

his hand on the immaculate white linen

at his mouth with the napkin, talking behind it. “You’re drenched, Kirstie. Wonderful. How’s your

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

meal finished, we walk back arm in arm across the river bridge from the Old City

don’t know why you had to park so far out,” I say. “It’s quite

he agrees, “but it’s a lovely evening

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

because I’m going

just

halting and turning to

smiles. “When we get back to the car, I’m going to

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

We’re parked in the shadows there. You can see out, but they can’t see in. And besides,” he gives me a cool

in the clubs. It’s still daylight,

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

at the car,

Master’s?…

the extreme far corner of the parking lot, partially hidden by shrubs, and well away from any street lights. The setting sun is blushing shadows

me. “Stand

hammering and pussy aching,

to face the car and bend

the bonnet, still warm from the dregs

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

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.

skin. As I whimper, behind me there is the rasp of

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

anyone could see