Curse of the gypsy woman - Part four - Sex Stories

Curse of the gypsy woman - Part four

... 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 f***ed 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 ...