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

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 the trellis and

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

earthquake in my flesh, I judder against the penetrating, delicious, invading, electric fingers, struggling

you good and expectant for later when I

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

leans in close to me again, working my inner muscles all the while “You’re still not coming yet. But this is your last

pulls free, wiping his hand on the immaculate white

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

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

back arm in arm across the river bridge from the Old City to the New, where

you had to park so far out,”

he agrees, “but it’s a lovely evening

say, feeling warm and happy; tingling with arousal and the pleasant anticipation of arriving back at

picked a quiet spot because I’m going

just hear

and turning to

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

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

the clubs. It’s

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

at the car, I consider my

Master’s?…

parking spot; in the extreme far corner of the parking lot, partially hidden by shrubs, and well away from any street

me. “Stand

hard, heart hammering and

to face the car and

turn and lie over the bonnet, still warm

are worthless; soaked and sagging, and he tugs them

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

over sensitised and quivering skin. As I whimper, behind me there is

he pushes inside my pulsing pussy, thrusting a few times as he finishes opening me up. His cock is huge and warm and

anyone could