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

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

mouthful of food, I suppress a squeal as fingers plunge deep, rubbing

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

it. Enjoy your food, but I want you good and

to take too long. 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 quake and jerk and he

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

he pulls free, wiping his hand on the immaculate white

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

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

river bridge

why you had to park so far out,” I say.

“but it’s

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

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

I just hear

turning to face him, “I think I

back to the car, I’m going to fuck you

to panic. “But we’re parked in a

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

get arrested in the clubs. It’s

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

the car, I consider my

Master’s?…

choice of parking 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 shrouded in shades of green

head-points me.

heart hammering and pussy aching,

the car

turn and lie over the bonnet, still warm

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

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. I wanted you

sensitised and quivering skin. As I

is still 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 cunt vibrates in

could