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 a strangled

you that I want to see 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

my mouthful of food, I suppress a squeal as fingers plunge deep,

flesh, I judder against the penetrating, delicious, invading, electric

and expectant for later when

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 smiles edge-ways

to me again, working my inner muscles all the while “You’re still

with that, he pulls free, wiping his hand on the

talking behind it. “You’re drenched,

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

the river bridge from the Old City to the New, where Ryan’s car

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

is,” he agrees, “but it’s a lovely evening for a

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

spot because I’m going to bend you over the bonnet, and fuck you til you

just hear

turning to face him, “I think

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

beginning to panic. “But we’re parked in a public place.”

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

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

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

the car,

Master’s?…

well away from any street lights. The

me.

hammering and pussy

turn to face the car and bend forward,

warm from the dregs of the sunshine, my arms reaching

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

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

aching pussy lips, drawing fingernails over sensitised and quivering skin. As I whimper, behind me there is the rasp of a

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

could see