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

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 here,” he says. “I told the waiters to give us plenty of privacy and,” he nods towards the trellis and plants, “no-one else can

my mouthful of food, I suppress a squeal as fingers

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

and expectant for later

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

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

with that, he pulls free, wiping his

napkin, talking behind it.

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

river bridge from the Old City

had to park so far out,” I say. “It’s quite a

it’s a lovely

I say, feeling warm and happy; tingling with arousal

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

just

say, halting and turning to face him, “I think I

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

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

in. And besides,” he gives me a cool look, “if I understand aright, you’ve often fucked in the clubs with an audience,

get arrested in the clubs. It’s

to go down, because

the car, I

Master’s?…

well away from any street lights. The setting sun is blushing shadows over the spot, and the car is shrouded in shades of

head-points me.

hammering and pussy aching,

to face the car

still warm

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 about what I’m going to feel

my aching pussy lips, drawing fingernails over sensitised and quivering skin. As I whimper, behind

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, and my hot cunt vibrates in welcome,

could see