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.

My voice 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,”

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

against the penetrating, delicious, invading, electric fingers, struggling to

want you good and expectant for

swollen pussy is unfurling as he speaks. The fingers probing inside me are sending electric shocks

in close to me again, working my inner muscles all the while “You’re still not coming

wiping his hand on the

napkin, talking behind it. “You’re drenched, Kirstie. Wonderful.

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

the river bridge from the Old City to the New, where

know why you had to park so far out,” I

agrees, “but it’s a

warm and happy; tingling with arousal and the

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

just

I say, halting and turning to face him, “I think

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

panic. “But we’re parked in a

the shadows there. You can see out, but they can’t see in. And besides,” he gives me

the

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

at the car, I

Master’s?…

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, and the car is shrouded in

me.

and pussy aching,

the car

the bonnet, still warm

to my hips. My panties are worthless;

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

over sensitised and quivering skin. As I whimper, behind me there is the rasp of

he pushes inside my pulsing pussy, thrusting a few times as he finishes opening me up. His cock is huge and warm and deliciously hard, and my hot cunt vibrates in welcome, clutching

anyone could