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

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,”

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

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

Enjoy your food, but I want you good and expectant for later

not going to take too long. My already swollen pussy is unfurling as he speaks. The fingers probing inside me are sending electric shocks

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

his hand on the immaculate white

mouth with the napkin, talking

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

the river bridge from the

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

is,” he agrees, “but it’s a

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

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

I just hear

say, halting and turning to face him, “I

don’t think so.” he smiles. “When we get back to the car, I’m

we’re parked

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

the clubs.

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

at the car,

Master’s?…

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

head-points me.

hard, heart hammering and

face the car and bend forward,

warm from the dregs of

worthless; soaked and

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

over sensitised and quivering skin. As I whimper, behind me

is still fully 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 huge and warm and

anyone could see