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

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 can see what I’m

through my mouthful of food, I

the penetrating, delicious, invading, electric fingers, struggling to

your food, but I want you good and expectant for later when I get my cock

take too long. My already swollen pussy is unfurling as he speaks. The fingers probing inside me are sending electric shocks pinging through to

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

free, wiping his hand on the immaculate white

at his mouth with the napkin, talking behind it.

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

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

you had to park so far out,”

is,” he agrees, “but it’s a

I say, feeling warm and happy; tingling with arousal and

“I picked a quiet spot because I’m going to bend

I just hear

I say, halting and turning to face him, “I think I

think so.” he smiles. “When we get back to the car, I’m

we’re parked in a public place.”

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 often fucked in

don’t get arrested in the clubs. It’s still

to go down, because

the car, I

Master’s?…

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

head-points me. “Stand

hammering and

face the car and bend forward, hands

the bonnet, still warm from the dregs of the

my skirt up to my hips. My panties are worthless; soaked and sagging, and he

Kirstie. I wanted to make you wait, to make you think about what I’m

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

he pushes inside my pulsing pussy, thrusting a few times as he finishes opening me up. His cock is huge and warm

could