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

brilliantly green noodles. He glances around our cubicle. “I like it here,” he says. “I told the waiters to give us

and up, and through my mouthful of food, I suppress a

my flesh, I judder against the penetrating, delicious, invading, electric fingers, struggling to swallow

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

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

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

wiping his

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

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

bridge from the Old City to the

don’t know why you had to park so far out,” I say. “It’s quite a

is,” he agrees, “but it’s a

and happy; tingling with arousal and the pleasant anticipation of arriving back

going to bend you over the

just hear

and turning to face him, “I think I

don’t think so.” he smiles. “When we get back to the car, I’m going to fuck

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

the shadows there. You can see out, but they can’t see in. And besides,” he gives me a cool look, “if I understand aright, you’ve often fucked in the clubs with an audience, and

get arrested in the clubs. It’s still daylight,

sun chance to

the car,

Master’s?…

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

head-points me. “Stand

heart hammering and

turn to face the car and bend forward,

the bonnet, still warm from the dregs of the sunshine, my

skirt up to my hips. My panties are worthless;

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

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

times as he finishes opening me up. His cock is huge and warm and deliciously hard, and my hot

could see