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 a strangled

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,

up, and through my mouthful of food, I

in my flesh, I judder against the penetrating, delicious,

I want you good and expectant for later when I get my cock

he speaks. The fingers probing inside me are sending electric shocks pinging through to my clit. My hips

muscles all the while “You’re still not coming yet. But

his hand

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

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

arm across the river bridge from the Old

so far out,” I say. “It’s

he agrees, “but it’s a lovely evening

and happy; tingling with arousal and the

I’m going to bend you over the bonnet,

I just hear

and turning to face

“When we get back to the car, I’m going to fuck you over the

we’re parked

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

get arrested in the

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

car, I

Master’s?…

away from any street lights. The setting sun is blushing shadows over the spot, and the car is shrouded in shades

me. “Stand

and pussy aching, I obey

turn to face the car and bend forward, hands

and lie over the bonnet, still warm

My panties are worthless; soaked and sagging,

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

my aching pussy lips, drawing fingernails over sensitised and quivering skin. As I whimper, behind me there is

times as he finishes opening me up. His cock is huge and warm and deliciously hard, and my hot cunt vibrates

could