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

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

that, his hand pushes in and up, and through my mouthful of food, I suppress a squeal as

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

I want you good and expectant for later when I get my cock

unfurling as he speaks. The fingers probing inside me are sending electric shocks

all the while “You’re still not coming

that, he pulls free, wiping his hand on the immaculate

napkin, talking behind it. “You’re drenched,

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

walk back arm in arm across the river bridge from the Old City to the New, where Ryan’s

why you had to park so

“but it’s a lovely evening for

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

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

I just

halting and turning to face him, “I

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

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

see in. And besides,” he gives me a cool look, “if I understand aright, you’ve

the clubs. It’s still daylight,

slowly. Give the sun chance to

at the car, I consider my

Master’s?…

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

me. “Stand

and pussy aching, I obey

car and bend forward, hands

lie over the bonnet, still warm from the dregs of

my hips. My panties are worthless; soaked

make you

skin. As I whimper, behind me there 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,

anyone could