Choosing Her Lover

Chapter 36

*****

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.

My voice is a

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

hand pushes in and up, and through my mouthful of food, I suppress a squeal as fingers

I judder against the penetrating, delicious, invading, electric fingers, struggling to swallow long strands of

and expectant

me are sending electric shocks

while “You’re still not coming

free, wiping his hand on

his mouth with the napkin, talking behind

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

finished, we walk back arm in arm across the river bridge from

so far out,” I say. “It’s quite a long

“but it’s a lovely evening for

and happy; tingling with

he continues, “I picked a quiet spot because I’m going to bend you over the bonnet, and

I just hear

to face him, “I think I misheard

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

to panic. “But we’re parked in

but they can’t see in. And besides,” he gives me a

don’t get arrested in the clubs. It’s still

to go down, because that’s what’s

at the car, I

Master’s?…

any street lights. The setting sun is blushing shadows

me.

heart hammering and pussy aching, I obey

turn to face the car and bend forward,

and lie over the bonnet, still warm from the dregs

panties are worthless; soaked and sagging, and he

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

sensitised and quivering skin.

times as he finishes opening me up. His cock is huge and warm and deliciously

could see

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