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.

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

mouthful of food, I suppress a squeal as fingers

against the penetrating, delicious, invading, electric

and expectant for later when

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

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

that, he pulls free, wiping his

mouth with the napkin, talking behind it. “You’re drenched, Kirstie. Wonderful. How’s

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

finished, we walk back arm in arm across the river bridge from the Old

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

agrees, “but it’s

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

“I picked a quiet spot because I’m going

just hear

and turning to face him, “I think I

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

“But we’re parked in a

he gives me a cool

in the clubs. It’s

the sun chance to go down, because that’s

at the car, I

Master’s?…

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

head-points me.

heart hammering and pussy aching, I obey

car and

warm from the dregs of the sunshine, my arms reaching

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

sex, fingers inserting. “That’s good, Kirstie. I wanted to make you wait, to make you think about what I’m going

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

a few times as he finishes opening me up. His cock is

could