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

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

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

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

you good and

as he speaks. The fingers probing inside me are sending electric shocks pinging

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

his hand on the immaculate white linen

talking behind it. “You’re drenched,

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

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

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

is,” he agrees, “but it’s a lovely

happy; tingling with arousal and

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

I just

turning to face him, “I think I

we get back to the car, I’m going to fuck you

we’re parked in a public

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

in the clubs.

Give the sun chance to go down, because

car, I

Master’s?…

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

me. “Stand

hard, heart hammering and pussy aching, I

the car and bend

the bonnet, still warm from

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

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

skims my aching pussy lips, drawing fingernails over sensitised and quivering skin. As

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

could see