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

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

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

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

I want you good and expectant for later when I get my cock

speaks. The fingers probing inside me are sending electric shocks pinging through to my clit. My hips quake and jerk and he smiles edge-ways at

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

his hand on the immaculate white

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

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

the river bridge from the Old City to the

why you had to park so far out,” I say.

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

tingling with arousal and

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

just hear

say, halting and turning to face him, “I

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

panic. “But we’re parked in a public

We’re parked in 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

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

chance to go down, because that’s

car, I consider

Master’s?…

parking lot, partially hidden by shrubs, and well away from any street lights. The setting sun is blushing shadows over the spot, and the car is shrouded in shades of green

head-points me.

and pussy aching, I obey

car and bend

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

up to my hips. My panties are worthless; soaked and sagging, and he

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

aching pussy lips, drawing fingernails over sensitised and quivering skin. As I whimper, behind me there is the rasp

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

anyone could see