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

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,” he nods towards the trellis and plants, “no-one

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

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

it. Enjoy your food, but I want you good and expectant for later when I get my

me are sending electric shocks pinging through to

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

with that, he pulls free, wiping his

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

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

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

to park so far out,” I say.

it’s a lovely evening

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

quiet spot because I’m going to bend you over the

I just hear

to face him,

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

panic. “But we’re parked in

the shadows there. You can see out, but they can’t see in. And besides,” he gives me a cool look, “if I understand aright, you’ve

the clubs. It’s still daylight,

walk slowly. Give the sun chance to go

the car, I consider my

Master’s?…

of parking spot; in 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 over the spot, and the car is shrouded in

head-points me.

hammering and pussy aching, I obey

turn to face the car and

the bonnet, still warm from

My panties are worthless; soaked and sagging, and he tugs them down

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

over sensitised and quivering skin. As I whimper, behind

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 cunt vibrates in

could see