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 a strangled

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

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

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

but I want you good and expectant for later when I get

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

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

pulls free, wiping his hand on the

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

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

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

to park so far

is,” he agrees, “but it’s a lovely evening for

feeling warm and happy; tingling with arousal and the

quiet spot because I’m going to bend you over the

just hear

to face him, “I think I misheard

he smiles. “When we get back to the car, I’m going

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

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

don’t get arrested in the clubs. It’s

slowly. Give the sun chance to go down, because

at the car,

Master’s?…

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,

head-points me. “Stand

hammering and pussy

car and

bonnet, still warm from the dregs of the

skirt up to my hips. My panties are worthless; soaked

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

quivering skin. As I whimper, behind me there is

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

anyone could see