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

brilliantly green noodles. He glances around our cubicle. “I like it here,” he says. “I told the waiters to give us plenty

that, his hand pushes in and up, and through my mouthful of food, I suppress a squeal as fingers plunge deep, rubbing at my

judder against the penetrating, delicious, invading, electric fingers,

it. Enjoy your food, but I want you good and expectant for later when I get

long. My already swollen pussy is unfurling as he speaks. The fingers probing inside me are

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

he pulls free, wiping his hand on the immaculate white

talking behind it. “You’re

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

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

so far out,”

he agrees, “but it’s a lovely

it is,” I say, feeling warm and happy; tingling with arousal and the pleasant anticipation of arriving back at Ryan’s

going to bend you over the bonnet, and fuck

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

panic. “But we’re parked

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 the

arrested in the

chance to go down, because that’s what’s

car, I

Master’s?…

extreme far corner of the parking lot, partially hidden by shrubs, and well away from any street lights. The setting sun is blushing

head-points me.

heart hammering and pussy

the car

warm from the dregs of the sunshine, my arms reaching

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

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

lips, drawing fingernails over sensitised and quivering skin. As I

fully dressed in his evening suit, but he pushes inside my pulsing pussy, thrusting a few times as he finishes opening me up. His cock is huge and warm and deliciously hard, and my hot

could