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

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 here,” he

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

by the earthquake in my flesh, I judder against the penetrating, delicious, invading, electric fingers, struggling to swallow long strands of

it. Enjoy your food, but I want you good and expectant for later

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

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

his hand on the immaculate white

napkin, talking behind it. “You’re drenched, Kirstie. Wonderful. How’s your

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

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

you had to park so far out,” I say.

it’s

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

a quiet spot because I’m going to bend you

I just hear

halting and turning to

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

we’re parked in a public

shadows there. You can see out, but they can’t see in. And besides,” he gives me a cool look, “if I understand

the clubs. It’s still daylight,

the sun chance to go down,

at the car, I consider

Master’s?…

parking lot, partially hidden by shrubs, and well away from any street

me. “Stand

hammering and pussy aching,

turn to face the car and bend forward, hands

bonnet, still warm from the dregs of the

my hips. My panties are worthless;

sex, fingers inserting. “That’s good, Kirstie. I wanted to make you wait, to make you think about what

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

opening me up. His cock is huge and warm and deliciously hard, and my hot cunt vibrates in welcome, clutching and

anyone could see