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

you that I want to see you try 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,”

and up, and through my mouthful of food, I

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

want you good and expectant for later

too long. My already swollen pussy is unfurling as he speaks. The fingers probing inside me are sending electric shocks pinging through to

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

his hand

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

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

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

so far out,” I

agrees, “but it’s a

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

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

I just

halting and turning to

“When we get back to the car,

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

see in. And besides,” he gives

get arrested in the clubs.

walk slowly. Give the sun chance to go down, because that’s what’s

the car, I consider my

Master’s?…

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

head-points me. “Stand

hammering and pussy aching, I

turn to face the car and bend forward,

I turn and lie over the bonnet, still warm from the dregs of the

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

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

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

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

could