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.

is a

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

up, and through my mouthful of food, I suppress a squeal as fingers plunge deep, rubbing

my flesh, I judder against the penetrating, delicious,

food, but I want you good and expectant for later when I

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 and he smiles

leans in close to me again, working my inner muscles all the while “You’re still not

that, he pulls free, wiping his hand on the immaculate white linen

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

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

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

had to park so far out,” I say. “It’s quite a

he agrees, “but it’s

is,” I say, feeling warm and happy; tingling with arousal and the pleasant anticipation of arriving back at

because I’m going to bend you over the bonnet,

just

and turning to face him, “I think I

to the car, I’m

“But we’re parked in

besides,” he gives me a cool look, “if I understand aright, you’ve often fucked in the

the clubs. It’s

walk slowly. Give the sun chance to

the car, I consider my

Master’s?…

and well away from any street lights. The setting sun is blushing shadows over the spot, and the car is shrouded in shades

me. “Stand

hard, heart hammering and pussy aching, I obey

turn to face the car and bend

over the bonnet, still warm

worthless; soaked and sagging, and he tugs them down behind my

cups my sex, fingers inserting. “That’s good, Kirstie. I wanted to make you wait, to make you think

quivering skin. As I whimper, behind me

he finishes opening me up. His cock is

anyone could see