A Gipsy at the Door

"Slightly parted?"

Melita's delighted chuckle was punctuated by her heavy breathing, "Oh, yes, I suppose they are by now. Use your thumbs to widen the gap."

To carry out that instruction I had to move my fingers from her clit. As my thumbs opened her out, my eyes were feasting on what looked like the heart of a pink rose, with layers of fleshy petals, the obvious nub of her erect clit and further back the secret darker spot of her entry.

Without further delay I leaned forward to place the tip of my tongue tentatively on her clit. Instantly her body wriggled and a little, "Ooh" sound escaped her lips. The only aroma was a slight muskiness, which wasn't at all what I had expected. Encouraged, a pushed my tongue more firmly over that erect nub, and again I was aware of her body tremor.

Confidence running wild and my own body aflame, I ploughed my tongue right through the many pink folds until it was poking into her entry and I was sure secret forces tried to pull it deeper. I moved my mouth back to attend to her clit but two fingers of my left hand slipped up inside her.

That seemed to be the trigger point for Melita. Her whole pubic area lunged up in my face, as she squealed, "In me, Harry. Oh, God, quick, quick."

As much as I had been engrossed in mouthing over her pink folds I knew that the pulsing in my cock was an early warning. I swiftly rose and plunged my body over hers, while delivering my penis head into that eager entry. With one solid push my cock was travelling like an express train in a dripping tunnel, and like a train it ran into some part of her that served as a buffer. The sensation was pure heaven for me but the groans, squeaks and heaving that emerged from Melita left me in no doubt that she was in the middle of a premature climax.

With a certain degree of satisfaction, I found that I was much more in control than I had been on our first encounter, and while Melita continued to bump and grind against my lusty thrusting, I was able to make a count of nine thrusts before my ejaculation started. Then I felt I could not stop grunting at each spasm of discharge.

As I calmed and we shuffled around the bed into positions of greater comfort, Melita said, "I didn't expect that. Cumming so quick. Were you all right with it?"

I kissed her fondly, "Slightly better than all right."

"And mouthing me?"

I gave her a smile,"Surprisingly tasty."

She returned my smile as she said, "You know what my name means?"

I shook my head,

"It means 'honey'. Did I taste like that?"

I hugged her, and we laughed together when I told her, "Oh, yes, but with lashings of cream."

Then we lay silent in each others arms, and I am sure her mind, like mine, was dwelling on this being so near the end of something.

At last she said, "If anyone had told me this morning how I'd be spending the rest of the day, I'd have said they were crazy."

"Maybe you were crazy to waste your time on me."

"Have I not helped you?"

"I can't tell you how much."

"Then my time wasn't wasted. I envy those lucky ladies at your university." Then she sat up, leaned over me, and we shared another warm kiss, before she said, "One thing you should look forward to-" And she paused to kiss me once more, "-when you meet that one that you want to spend your life with, the kind of coming together we have shared today becomes absolutely marvellous."

"You've had this," I asked her, and her face took on that far away look that she'd had when telling me why she had been late in university.

"Yes, I have," she said vaguely, adding, "It's wonderful, but there can be hurt in with it." And then she shocked me by asking, "Can we do it one last time?"

This surprise final time, started with warm kisses which gradually became wilder, as tentative caresses became more eagerly directed. The touching took us nowhere near the desperate needs of our previous sessions, so it was from this relatively controlled foreplay that my erection was soon gliding with exquisite ease up into her warm wet channel.

Melita's hips rose to meet each stroke, and her vaginal muscles pulled at me from the start. About halfway through I noticed her breathing quicken and soon after that her vocalisation of her pleasure, brought now familiar grunts and gasps to my ears.

I did not count how many of my deep thrusts buffered up against her cervix. It was certainly more than a dozen which was much more than I had managed before. Maybe my staying power was better because my mind was distracted by the fact that this was our last time and parting was imminent. Or was it just possible that I was improving?

Melita was groaning and heaving under me, and I bent to kiss over her breasts and suck at a nipple as the pressure in my scrotum served a warning. I would have liked to have taken Melita on that final ride with me, but could tell she was not quite at that level. I tried desperately to hold back, but the surge would not be denied, and the next second, and with several short sharp thrusts I was emptying my load deep inside her.

Pure elation was mixed with regret that we hadn't made it together. Yet, as my cock released its final burst, I found that my late flurries of ejaculation had somehow, triggered Melita's own climax as she squealed her delight and ground her hips with some force against my hard penis, seconds before it started to fade.

"Oh, God, I'm not going to forget this--ever," she sighed as I collapsed against her and our sweating bodies welded together.

As we reluctantly got dressed, Melita said, " I feel so guilty about what I've taken from this."

I watched those delicious breasts disappear as she fastened up her blouse, and I said, "Guilty? After what you've done for me?"

"I didn't expect to get so much out of it."

A wave of egotism, as I asked lightly, " Was I so good?"

She laughed, "Oh, I don't want to give you a big head. But you were a fast learner."

"But I had a beautiful body to practice on—not to mention the lovely face that forced me to offer coffee."

She kissed me lightly and said, "Should we have another one?"

Knowing what she meant, I gave a shocked look towards the bed, and Melita gently thumped my shoulder and laughed, "Coffee, you glutton."

We went through to the kitchen and slowly sipped coffee, dragging out our final minutes together. I managed to pluck up the courage to ask the question of our chances of meeting again.

Melita reached out and took my hand, and with her thumb stroking it gently, she said, "The idea has much appeal, but I have some experience of these things. Distance doesn't always make the heart grow fonder." She squeezed my hand, "I've already told you how I'm envious of the women you will continue your intimate education with."

I just did not want this to happen, and I began, "But I only want-"

Melita held up a hand, "Mark, you are only eighteen and have so many bridges to cross. I was just one of them."

"But you read so accurately about my lack of sexual experience."

Smiling gently Melita took hold of both my hands. "Confession time. You do have a positive life line, allied to a hopeful success line, but there is no known line on the palm of your hand that would tell me whether you had experience of the opposite sex."

Her smile was so appealing that I was compelled to return it, even though I was puzzled by what she was telling me. "So when you asked if I'd had any experience--?"

"I wasn't reading that in your hand, but it was so evident in your body language. Your nervousness, your eyes when you looked into my face, before looking away, and my cleavage was given so much attention--I was pretty certain. You were ready for instruction--or put another way--for seduction. I quickly realised that I was ready too."

Should I have felt annoyed, or cheated? How could I when she had given me her body so willingly?

"Are you annoyed?" she asked, and when I shook my head she added, "Don't be. From the moment you opened your door to me, I was attracted to you. All I needed was an excuse."

I tried to treat the situation light- heartedly, "And from the moment you opened your special door to me I knew -"

"Knew what?"

"That it would be hard to let you go."

She gave a little shiver, and stood up, "Yes, it is ever thus." There was a sadness in her voice which matched how I was feeling, "Tomorrow we're away down south. Then university, and life slips into its ordained pattern."

Melita picked up her shawl from the back of a chair and when she turned her face to me I was sure her green eyes had moistened. Slowly we walked to the front door. How long had it been since I had opened it to her? Time didn't matter. The things I had experienced with Mileta were all that mattered. And that is what I told her as she unlatched the door.

Without pulling the door open she turned to me and reached up to give me a final kiss. It was tender and full of feeling as she said, "I came to tell your fortune. I found your life line and your line of good fortune." And there was a definite tear on her cheek as she added, " I hope I've helped you towards finding the elusive romance line." She pulled the shawl over her head and became a gipsy once more. Pulling the door open, she murmured, "I'm sure you will have plenty to choose from. Choose carefully and love her well."

Moist green eyes regarded me for a last time, and she said, "Goodbye, Mark."

"I'll never forget you, Mileta," I said weakly, raising a hand to touch her face, but she was gone. I was left standing watching her neat hooded figure disappear down the street.

Over the years Mileta's predictions for me proved most accurate and the love I eventually found at the age of twenty nine, blossomed for all of fifty years, thanks, in part, to those brief blessed hours with Mileta, my gipsy.