Choosing Her Lover

Chapter 36

*****

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

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 can see

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

I judder against the penetrating, delicious, invading, electric fingers, struggling to swallow long strands of

and expectant for later when

to take too long. My already swollen 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

still not

free, wiping his hand on

dabs at his mouth with the napkin, talking

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

walk back arm in arm across the river bridge from the Old

park so

it’s a lovely evening

happy; tingling with arousal and the pleasant anticipation of arriving back

spot because I’m going to bend you

I just

and turning to face him, “I

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

panic. “But we’re parked in

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

in the clubs.

chance to go

the car, I consider

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 shades

head-points me.

and pussy aching,

to face the car and bend

still warm from the dregs

My panties are worthless;

to make you wait, to make you think about what I’m

fingernails over sensitised and quivering skin. As I whimper, behind me there is the rasp of

dressed in his evening suit, but he pushes inside my pulsing pussy, thrusting a few times as he finishes opening me up. His cock is

anyone could see

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