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

scooping and winding brilliantly green noodles. He glances around our cubicle. “I like

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

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

but I want you good and expectant for later when

to take too long. My already swollen pussy is unfurling as he speaks. The fingers probing inside me are sending electric shocks pinging

the while “You’re still not coming yet. But

free, wiping his hand on the

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

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

river bridge from the Old City to the New,

so far out,” I say. “It’s quite a

is,” he agrees, “but it’s a lovely

and happy; tingling with arousal and the pleasant anticipation of arriving back at

I’m going to bend you over the bonnet, and fuck you til

just

and turning to face him, “I

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

panic. “But we’re parked in a public place.” I

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

arrested in the clubs. It’s still daylight,

Give the sun chance to go down, because that’s what’s going

the car,

Master’s?…

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

head-points me.

hard, heart hammering and pussy aching, I obey

the car and bend

over the bonnet, still warm from

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

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

skin. As I whimper, behind

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 welcome, clutching and

anyone could