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

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,

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

disabled by the earthquake in my flesh, I judder against the penetrating, delicious, invading, electric

good and expectant

me are sending electric shocks pinging through to my clit. My hips quake and jerk and he

muscles all the while “You’re still not coming

his hand on the

the napkin, talking

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

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

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

it’s a lovely evening for

and happy; tingling with arousal and the pleasant anticipation of

he continues, “I picked a quiet spot because I’m going to bend you over the

just

to face him, “I think I

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

to panic. “But we’re parked in

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, you’ve often fucked in the clubs with an audience, and enjoyed

in the clubs.

to go down, because that’s what’s

at the car, I consider my

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 shadows over

head-points me.

heart hammering and pussy

car and bend forward,

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

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

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 feel like inside you.

and quivering skin. As I whimper, behind me there

pulsing pussy, thrusting a few times as he finishes opening me up. His cock is

could