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

cubicle. “I like it here,” he says. “I told the waiters to give us plenty of

and up, and through my mouthful of food, I suppress a

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

your food, but I want you good and

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

still not coming yet. But this is your last appetiser.

free, wiping his hand on

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

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

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

why you had to park so far

agrees, “but it’s a lovely evening for a

and happy; tingling with arousal and the

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

I just hear

say, halting and turning to

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

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

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

don’t get arrested in the clubs. It’s

chance to

at the car, I consider

Master’s?…

spot; in the extreme far 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

me.

hard, heart hammering and pussy aching, I obey

to face the car and bend

turn and lie over the bonnet, still warm from the dregs of the sunshine, my

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

wanted to make you wait, to make you think

aching pussy lips, drawing fingernails over sensitised and quivering skin. As

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

anyone could see