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.

is a strangled

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 says. “I told the waiters to give us plenty of privacy and,”

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

against the penetrating,

you good and expectant

inside me are sending electric shocks pinging through to my clit. My hips quake

my inner muscles all the while “You’re still not coming yet. But this is your last appetiser. You get the main

that, he pulls free, wiping his hand on the immaculate

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

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

across the river bridge from the Old City to the New, where Ryan’s car

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

“but it’s a lovely evening

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

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

I just hear

and turning to

get back to the car, I’m going to fuck

“But we’re parked

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

in the clubs.

to go down, because that’s what’s going to

car, I consider

Master’s?…

choice of parking spot; in the extreme far corner of the parking lot, partially hidden by shrubs, and well away from any street lights.

head-points me.

and

face the car and bend forward, hands

bonnet, still warm from the dregs of the

to my hips. My panties are worthless; soaked and sagging, and he tugs them down behind

wait, to make you think about what I’m going to

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

pushes inside my pulsing pussy, thrusting a few times as he finishes opening me up.

could

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