This is the continuing saga of Melissa, a woman, a preacher's wife, who by the power of a gypsy's curse is redescovering her sexuality. It will be to your benefit to read the previous three chapters if you haven't allready.
It had been a frustrating weekend, and the worst thing by far was church on Sunday and the subsequent meeting of the Committee of Moral Education.
Luckily she'd had the idea to wear a sanitary napkin before going. She'd had enough experience of her own horniness by now to know that her pussy would run wet with juices by the mere thought of sex, and this way she might be able to prevent a dark wet spot from forming on her skirts. She'd also worn two extra layers of underskirts and an extra set of panties, hoping she wouldn't look fat in the outfit. But anything would be better than looking like she had peed herself.
Her thoughts had of course been drifting in all kinds of directions as she sat on the hard benches, watching the service, and she had discovered that by rubbing her thighs together and working the muscles in her abdomen, she would be able to receive pleasure without anyone noticing. She'd known however that having an orgasm would be out of the question. So the frustration had been killing her when the services were over, and her relief had been almost overwhelming as she'd locked herself in the toilet and rubbed herself to mind blowing, but silent ecstasy behind the closed doors.
The sanitary napkin had been soaked and she'd had to change it before washing her hands thoroughly and step out to meet the world again. Then she'd begun to dread the following two hours. Meetings in the Committee of Moral Education could really drag on sometimes, but she had to try to make this one a short one.
“How did your confrontation with the gypsy woman go the other day,” Francine Woodworth had asked after they were done with the scheduled agenda. Francine was a small, dark haired woman, married to one of the most successful businessmen in the little town. Moving here from France just three years ago, her English was almost perfect, just a slight accent that was more charming than annoying.
“I'm afraid it didn't go very well. She didn't seem to understand what the problem was,” Melissa had answered, feeling herself blush a little.
“Would you maybe if I tried?” the tender woman had asked.
And so it had been decided and the meeting could finally be closed. On her way back to the house, Melissa had to stop two times to finger herself. Once in a gas station bathroom and once in McDonald’s. By the time she arrived home, her husband had already started packing for his trip.
The thought of him leaving and being away for almost a whole week had her all worked up again. But she knew she had to keep her lusts at bay, to take deep breaths and try to act as normal as she possibly could. She had even managed to act as if she didn't look forward to being alone for so long even though her heart (and pussy) had been jumping with joy.
So you could probably imagine her relief as she closed the door behind her husband on Monday morning, and she actually slid down to the floor, her back to the door and tugging on the belt of her morning robe as she descended towards the door mat. Her fingers were already inside her ass and pussy before she reached the rough fabric of the mat and the dirt from multiple shoes that had been cleaned since she last cleaned it, clinged to the sticky juices on her ass and thighs as she rubbed herself. But she didn't care – she just had to quench the lust long enough to make it up to the bedroom and to her magazines again.
She was squirming on the floor, four wet fingers buried in her snatch, three in her ass, and a wet trail going from the front door, across the hallway and into the kitchen, when the door bell rang. She'd been on the verge of screaming out in ecstasy, but now she froze, looking towards the door with fear in her eyes.
It felt like an eternity, but it was probably just a few seconds before she scrambled to her feet again, grabbed a kitchen towel, closed her morning robe, tying the belt on and tried her best to wipe away the shining trail of juices from the floor. Throwing the towel on top of the shelf in the hallway, she took two deep breaths, gained her composure and opened the door.
She had to look twice to make sure, but the woman standing on her door step could be none other than Francine. Melissa had never seen her like this. The petite woman was pale, sweating and with her hair in a mess, her face painted in a futile attempt to put on make up to hide the state she was in. She was trembling and looked scared out of her mind.
“Help me!” she whispered.
Grabbing her arm and pulling her inside, Melissa closed and locked the door behind them. Then she just stood there, holding and comforting the trembling, crying woman for a few minutes before asking her to take a deep breath and come with her into the living room. Melissa was still horny and her body was screaming for release, and she actually had a notion that Francine was rolling her hips against hers, but she pushed the thoughts away and forced herself to focus. This woman obviously needed her right now, and no matter how much she lusted for sex, she wouldn't let that feeling take control of her.
“What has happened to you? You look awful,”
“I don't know what is happening to me. Please, help me!” the woman sobbed.
“Now sit back and relax, take another deep breath and tell me all about it.”
So Francine did what she was told. And as she told her story, Melissa recognized almost every aspect of her tale. It had all begun after the French woman's visit to Mrs Vineto, the Gypsy, to talk to her about her daughter Rebecca and the young girl's oral adventures with Stanley Robertson, and how totally unacceptable such behavior was. Mrs Vineto had seemed just as uninterested as when Melissa had talked with her, and at the end of the frustrating and increasingly rude conversation, the Gypsy had placed her hand on top of Francine's.
“You secretly are a horny bitch with a craving for all things sexual,” Melissa and Francine said in unison.
Francine's mouth fell open and she stared at her friend in disbelief. And even though she did not resist, her disbelief was even bigger when Melissa leaned forward and whispered in her ear:
“I know just how you feel,”
before pressing her soft lips against the bottom of her neck. Francine felt a surge go through her body as the older woman ran her fingernails along the side of her chin, down across her neck and between her breasts where her fingers started to unbutton the blouse. The two women's mouths met in a deep kiss, tongues twirling, exploring, tasting as the younger of the two let herself lose control of her inhibitions. Wrapping her hands around the back of Melissa's neck she pushed the robe further down. Only pausing for a second from unbuttoning Francine's blouse, Melissa brought her hand to her waist to undo the knot in her belt. Her breasts fell free and Francine was there immediately to cup them, feeling the hardening nipples against the palms of her hands. She ghasped as Melissa finally managed to wrap away the fabric of her blouse and her bra and leaned in to close her lips around one nipple. From then on things sped up.
The last two buttons on the blouse flew across the room, bouncing on the floor before the white bundle of fabric followed. The zipper on the skirt tore in the hurry of getting it off, and the bra was barely unclasped before it was thrown off, being caught on the lamp above the two half naked women wrapped around each other on the sofa.
“Oh my God, this is a sin,” Francine managed to whisper into Melissa's ear before the two women wrestled out of the rest of their clothing, at the same time trying to get as much of their skin as possible to touch the other. Four hands went exploring, finding breasts, the softness of ass cheeks, the wetness of crotches, and their eyes met briefly before the petite french woman threw her head back and moaned loudly as two fingers found their way inside her. As she fell backwards, Melissa searched out the source of the intoxicating aroma that was beckoning her, and kissing her way down the soft, burning skin of the other woman, she was finally able to taste that sweet nectar surrounding her fingers.
Even though she had never eaten out another woman before, she instinctively knew what to do with her lips and tongue. Imagining how she herself would have wanted to be licked, she closed her mouth around the protruding clit and sucked on it while rolling her tongue back and forth against it. Her fingers were moving inside the pussy, pushing up and rubbing that delicate, wonderful spot, while her other hand was pushing down from the outside. Moving her tongue up and down, back and fort, tasting both the inner and outer lips and then flicking the clit again, she had to fight hard to keep the woman from not squirming and moving so much that she couldn't hit the spots she was intending.
The squeezing around her fingers intensified as she moved them in and out, and as she carefully pushed her ring finger against the flower of the woman's anus, a load moan, progressing into a scream filled the room as an orgasm surged through Francine's body, making all her muscles go rigid, almost cramping as juices gushed from her pussy. Then, almost like a switch was turned, she collapsed in a heaving bundle on the floor.
It took a minute for her to recuperate, and Melissa enjoyed the time passing by lapping up as much of the juices she could, making Francine twitch every time she came too close to her clit. Finally Francine took Melissa's head between the palms of her hand and pulled her up for a kiss. They kissed deeply before Francine pulled her away to first inspect the wet face of her lover, a face dripping and glistening with her juices. Then she looked deep into her eyes with something resembling both love and lust.
“Thank you,” she smiled and the two women kissed again.
“Don't thank me like that,” Melissa smiled as she pulled herself up an straddled the other woman's face, pushing her own pussy down towards her mouth. “Thank me like this.”