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

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

and up, and through my mouthful of food, I suppress a squeal as fingers plunge

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

food, but I want you good and expectant for later

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

again, working my inner muscles all the while “You’re still not coming yet. But this is your last appetiser. You get the main course

he pulls free, wiping his hand

dabs at his mouth with the napkin, talking behind it.

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

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

don’t know why you had to park so far out,”

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

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

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

I just

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

get back to the

to panic. “But we’re parked

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

in the clubs. It’s still daylight,

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

at the car,

Master’s?…

the parking lot, partially hidden by shrubs, and well away from any street lights. The setting sun

head-points me. “Stand

heart hammering and

car and

warm from the

pushes my skirt up to my hips. My panties are worthless; soaked and

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

sensitised and quivering skin. As I whimper, behind me there is

me up. His cock is huge and warm and deliciously hard, and my hot cunt

anyone could see