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.

is a strangled

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

and through my mouthful of

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

you good and expectant for later when I get my cock

is unfurling as he speaks. The fingers probing inside me are sending electric shocks pinging through to

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

with that, he pulls free, wiping his hand on the immaculate white linen

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

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

across the river bridge from the Old City to

don’t know why you had to park so far

“but it’s a lovely evening

say, feeling warm and happy; tingling with arousal and

because I’m going

just

to face him, “I

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

we’re parked in a public

besides,” he gives me a cool

get arrested in the clubs. It’s still

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

head-points me.

heart hammering and pussy aching,

car and bend forward,

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

are worthless; soaked and sagging, and he tugs them

I wanted to make you wait, to make you think about what I’m going to feel

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

in his evening suit, but he pushes inside my pulsing pussy, thrusting a few times as he finishes opening me up. His cock is

could see