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

told you that I want to 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

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

judder against the penetrating, delicious, invading, electric

good and expectant for later when I get

The fingers probing inside me are sending electric shocks pinging through to my clit. My hips quake and jerk and he smiles

“You’re still not coming yet. But this is your last appetiser. You

he pulls free, wiping his hand on

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

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

back arm in arm across the river bridge from the Old City

to park so

is,” he agrees, “but it’s a lovely evening for a

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

going to bend you over the

I just hear

to

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

we’re parked in a public place.” I

we’re not. We’re 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

don’t get arrested in the clubs. It’s still daylight,

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

the car,

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 the spot, and the car

head-points me.

hard, heart hammering and pussy aching, I

the car and

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

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

you think about what I’m going to feel like inside you. I

aching pussy lips, drawing fingernails over sensitised and quivering skin. As I whimper, behind me there is the

he finishes opening me up. His cock is huge

could