Hansel and Gretel
An Erotic Fairy Tale
By
Leila Bryce Sin
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Gretel shifted her hips, spreading her legs wider as she straddled Hansel. He was softer inside of her now, but still firm enough for her to enjoy. Hansel gazed up at her, his eyes heavy, and watched as she tossed her long brunette locks behind her. Her perky breasts bounced as she moved, her nipples were still pink and hard from his earlier attention and his fingers twitched with the desire to reach out for them again. Instead, he rested his hands on her thighs, slick with sweat from their rigorous lovemaking.
Gretel dropped her hands to Hansel’s chest, bracing herself as she arched and rolled her back, shifting her hips back and then forward, rubbing her swollen clit against him. Her brown eyes fluttered closed as she bit down on her lip, keeping quiet as she concentrated, not wanting to wake her parents. Hansel felt her walls constricting around him as she brought herself closer and closer to the edge of her second orgasm. He lifted his hands, calloused from chopping wood earlier that day, and cupped her breasts. They were warm and soft like dough rising in the sun; he rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers as she quickened her pace.
Small noises were escaping her as she worked at herself, her nails digging into his chest, nearly cutting into his skin. The marks would match the cross-stitch pattern she had drawn on his back earlier. Hansel tore his eyes away from her gyrating body to glance at her door, sending up a silent prayer that her parents wouldn’t hear her. Gretel was betrothed to another, “more suitable” man as her mother had said. But Hansel and Gretel had been in love since they were children and couldn’t seem to stay away from each other. He had snuck into her room that night to comfort her after the announcement of her engagement during her eighteenth birthday celebration, letting her cry into his chest, kissing her to quiet her sobs, holding her body close to his until she started clawing at his clothing to rip it away.
Her body bucked violently on top of his, bringing Hansel back to himself and out of his thoughts. He pinched her nipples harder, just like she liked it, as she came over his cock that was hard inside of her again. Gretel shuttered on top of him, trying to hold still as she pressed her throbbing clit against him, riding the wave of pleasure that rolled through her. When she lifted her face to the ceiling, arching her back and moaned softly he knew she was sated, but now he wanted more.
Hansel sat up, wrapping one arm around her waist and bracing himself with the other as he flipped her onto her back and mounted her, never letting his thick cock slip out of her. She landed on her back with a gasp but before she could do anything he was fucking her hard and fast, hooking one arm under one of Gretel’s legs, spreading her pussy all the wider as he slammed his hips into the backs of her thighs. She was so wet, so slick for him, he had to bite down on his own lip to keep from swearing and calling out her name.
When one intense noise flew from Gretel’s mouth, Hansel put his free hand over her mouth and let her bite down on it. Within minutes he was fighting to keep the rhythm as he rode his beautiful Gretel but when she grabbed his hand to pull it away only to then begin sucking on his fingers, swirling her pink tongue around each one, he couldn’t concentrate and the orgasm ripped through him, violent and uncontrolled. He bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. Gretel was still riding the orgasm she’d given herself when she rode Hansel and when he spasmed on top of her she had to stifle her giggles by sucking on his pinky. It was more than Hansel could take.
Slowly, reluctantly, Hansel extracted himself from Gretel, both mouth and pussy, though he yearned to take her for a third time. But the curtains of her window were starting to lighten and he knew the sun was rising, therefore her father would be awake very soon and he needed to be out of there before that happened.
“I love you,” he whispered to her as he pulled the covers over her, a little reluctantly, taking in each curve before it was lost from sight.
“And I love you,” she whispered, tilting her chin up, her lips parted for one last kiss. Their mouths were hot and their kiss was deep and slow, savoring the taste of the other before Hansel stood back to dress. He slipped out of the window just as he heard the first floorboard creek somewhere else in the house.
The village was still half asleep as Hansel made his way back to the home he shared with his mother. It was modest, but warm, his father having died when he was a child, leaving him and his mother to fend for themselves. They weren’t rich, but he would never have said they were poor either, but apparently Gretel’s parents thought otherwise. The Mayor’s daughter deserved more than the life of a carpenter’s wife, no matter how much he may love her.
When they were fifteen years old Hansel had given Gretel a simple copper ring, promising to marry her when he had built her a home worthy of her. Gretel had taken the ring with a smile and a kiss, promising her hand without a thought. Hansel smiled at the memory as he climbed through his own window, landing lightly inside his bedroom. So lost in his sweet memories of Gretel’s smile he didn’t even notice his mother sitting in the corner, waiting for him.
“He lives,” she said with a hint of sarcasm as she lit the candle on the table beside her.
“Mother,” Hansel exclaimed, his heart thundering in his chest as he caught his breath.
“I doubt I need to ask where you’ve been,” his mother said as she rocked out of the chair, pushing to her feet, one hand holding the knitted afghan around her shoulders. Hansel had the good grace to keep his eyes lowered to the floor. His mother studied him by the flickering light of the candle. After a few silent moments she shook her head and moved across the room towards him.
“I’m sorry I worried you,” he began but she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Never mind that, it wasn’t as if I didn’t know where you were. In the future however,” she guided him towards his bed, giving him a gentle push to sit down, “it would be kind of you to tell your mother you will be gone all night so that I don’t have a heart attack when I find you missing.”
“Of course mother,” Hansel said, stripping off his boots, “I thought you might try to stop me.”
“I would sooner stop the rush of the river or a flock of birds migrating south, my boy,” she turned for the door, stopping to stare at him for a few moments. She looked both sad and wistful, as if she knew she would only have so many more chances to look at her sweet boy’s face before he would leave her forever.
“I do love her,” Hansel said.
“I know you do.”
“More than that apple john ever could,” he said, kicking his boots away and swinging his legs up on his bed, grateful his mother was letting him get some sleep.
“Yes, but parents are more concerned with food on a table and a roof over one’s head than they are with love. Love alone cannot afford those things,” his mother said before blowing Hansel a kiss and shutting the door behind her.
Hansel slept fitfully, his dreams full of mazes and Gretel’s voice, calling out to him for help. Every time he came close to finding Gretel, her betrothed would loom up in front of him, brandishing a sword and pelting him with fire-hot coins, laughing all the while.
After just a couple of hours Hansel untangled himself from his sheets and left his room to get to work. Hansel was a wood chopper, one of five in the village, he spent long days in the forest, felling trees and making logs to sell to the villagers. But
he was always in competition with the other four men and often had to practically give away the wood just to get a few coppers.
Whereas Gretel’s husband-to-be was the local tavern owner – the only tavern between three villages, needless to say, he was a wealthy man. But he was also a much older man, only a few years younger than her own father, and he was a loutish, boar of a man with a belly so big, he would no doubt smother Gretel.
Hansel’s ax thunked deep and heavy into the tree as he thought of the sweaty old man on top of his lady love. He hesitated, wiping at his brow with the back of his hand, before he pulled the ax free. He smelled something sweet and spicy like cinnamon when he attempted to wriggle the ax free. Hansel looked around and realized the trees here were different than any other trees he’s felled before; they shimmered in a rainbow of colors and the aromas around him were drawing him deeper and deeper into the wood.
He forgot his ax, leaving it behind as he followed the intoxicating scents until he came upon a small cottage. Purple smoke puffed out of the chimney. He found himself reaching out to touch the house, his eyelids growing heavy the closer he came and his mouth was watering. When he touched the window sill, the white paint gave under his fingers and Hansel found his hand covered in sweet cream. He licked his hand clean, unfazed by this strange turn of events.
He moved to the front door that was bejeweled with tiny, sugared candies. Just as he was peeling a third candy away from the door, the knob turned and it opened, making Hansel stumble in his drowsy state. A beautiful, raven haired woman stood in the doorway, smiling at Hansel.
She was dressed in a simple shift, the white cotton was sheer and Hansel could just make out her figure as the sunlight streamed in.
“Good day,” she said, her voice soft and lyrical and when she tossed her thick, dark hair over her shoulder Hansel could smell warm sugar. He dropped the last piece of candy, his hand lifting, beginning to reach out for the woman.
“Beg pardon,” he managed, stopping his hand just before he touched her waist and snatching it back.
“Are you lost?” she asked, taking a step closer to Hansel. Her eyes were as dark as her hair, set in skin as clear as fresh milk. When she moved the meager garment she wore shifted around her hips, drawing Hansel’s eye down the curve of her body. He blinked and shook his head roughly to clear it.
“No,” he said, needing to clear his throat before he continued. “I was working in the wood and an aroma caught my attention. I followed it like a child. I am sorry to have disturbed you.”
“Ah, you smelled my apple pie,” she said quickly, catching Hansel by the arm as he turned to leave, stopping him.
“Yes, I suppose that must have been it,” he nodded, feeling that same, sinking sensation swirl inside of him that made his thoughts slow and his eyes heavy. It was as if he was half way between waking and dreaming.
“Are you one of the wood choppers from the village?” the woman asked, taking another step closer to Hansel, the scent of warm sugar swirling around him as she slid her hand up his arm.
“I am,” he responded slowly. She stepped again, the line of her body pressed against his, sliding her hand up and around his neck. Her fingers slid into the curls of his hair, scratching lightly at his skin.
“Then I imagine you must be famish after all that hard work,” she said, her breath a warm whisper against his skin. When Hansel looked at her for a moment he thought he saw Gretel gazing back at him.
“Yes, I am,” he agreed, nodding along with her. She turned, hooking her arm with his and led him inside.
The warmth of the cottage was welcome after standing in the chill of the forest for so long. It was filled with the smells of melted butter, roasting apples, cinnamon and nutmeg. Hansel swallowed audibly and the woman at his side smiled as she led him towards the round table in the tiny, open kitchen. Sitting in the middle of the table was a steaming apple pie, fresh from the oven. As Hansel looked around him he could see gold fixtures all about the cottage, glinting in the light of the candles.
“Come, sit,” the woman said as she guided him to a chair at the table. Hansel blinked slowly and shook his head again, starting to come out of his stupor.
“I’m sorry, I’m imposing, I don’t even know you,” he said and started to stand but she was there in a flash, a large kitchen knife in one hand. Hansel froze, half standing. She placed her empty hand on his chest and pushed him back into the chair with a smile.
“Just call me Honey,” she said, her voice lilting and soft. Hansel sat without argument, Honey’s scent swirling around him again as her hair fell forward over one shoulder when she bent close to him. She nodded slowly and Hansel mimicked her, satisfied he wouldn’t try to leave again she turned her back to him, bending over the table to cut a piece of pie for him.
Hansel watched, his eyes drifting to the hem of her shift as it rose, revealing her creamy thighs and just the hint of ass cheek. His heart pounded when he realized she wasn’t wearing anything under it.
“Here we are,” Honey said as she slid the double piece of pie in front of Hansel, stepping away from him. Hansel picked up the gilded fork that was worth more than he would make in a month of felling trees and began to eat the sweet confection, almost robotically. Honey leaned against the sink to watch him eat.
Hansel remembered very little after he began to eat the pie, never really noticing that he ended up eating the entire thing as Honey slid piece after piece in front of him. When he woke up in the middle of the forest, his wheelbarrow to one side of him and his ax still stuck in the tree, he could only remember watching as Honey leaned over him, the collar of her shift dipping, giving him a clear view of the full bosom hidden therein. She picked up his hand and stuck his finger in her mouth, sucking on it slowly, swirling her tongue around it and for a moment he saw Gretel doing the same thing just hours before.
“Not yet,” Honey whispered. That was all he remembered.
Days passed and every afternoon as Hansel worked in the wood he would smell that same intoxicating combination of melting butter, warm sugar and cinnamon. And every time he found himself on the doorstep of the tiny candy cottage, picking at some tasty treat before Honey opened the door, a piece of pie in her hand.
After a week of his strange behavior Gretel tried to go see him, but her parents kept a close eye on her, forcing her to slip a note through Hansel’s window as she made her way to market. The note asked Hansel to meet her at the lake after nightfall, their favorite secret place. Hansel was already deep in the wood, chopping away; Gretel just hoped he would find the note in time.
Meanwhile, Hansel was deep in the wood, however he was not chopping down any trees, he was in Honey’s embrace. Hansel sat in his customary chair at the kitchen table and Honey sat in his lap, straddling him. Her shift had ridden up, letting Hansel feel the warmth of her sex through his trousers. She smiled at him, her black eyes softening until they were a perfect shade of amber brown and she ran her fingers through her raven tresses, they too shimmered and shifted until they were the auburn hue he had admired since he was a child. Honey smiled at him with Gretel’s mouth before she kissed him, deep and slow, her tongue slipping past his lips and massaging his.
She shifted her hips to rub herself against him and Hansel groaned happily into her mouth. It had been days of teasing and tempting but never doing more than sucking on his fingers as if she was checking for something. Now she was bare-assed on his lap, making him hard and excited. His hands slid up her thighs, under the hem of her dress, to settle on the swell of her ass. He urged her shifting hips faster, pushing her forward every time she shifted back, his cock swelling under her as she rubbed against him. Honey broke the kiss and reached for one of his hands, drawing his finger into her mouth again.
Hansel watched her suck on his finger, her sweet red lips circling around it, and he imagined her sucking on his throbbing cock. She bit down gently and this time she seemed pleased.
“Nearly there,” she said happily, her voice the pur
e tones of Gretel’s. She stopped grinding against him and went to stand but Hansel grabbed her about the hips to stop her.
“Gretel, love, it’s been days,” he said, his voice hoarse with need. Honey stared down at him, caressing his cheek.
“You need to eat; you’ve been working so hard and I like my men big and well fed.”
“I’d rather eat you,” Hansel said, the ache in his groin making him blunt. Honey laughed and turned in his hands; reaching for the slice of pie she had waiting for him.
“No, you’ll have some pie,” she said.
“I’ll eat your pie,” Hansel teased, pulling her close to him again, inching her shift back up her hips.
“If I give you some of my pie, will you eat this pie?” she asked, pointing at the cooling piece on the table.
“Yes,” he answered quickly. Again Honey smiled at him with Gretel’s mouth. She pushed gently at his chest; he let his hands drop from her hips and watched as she slid back on the table, sitting on it. She leaned back, bracing herself on her hands, letting her legs dangle over the edge of the table. She cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting.
Hansel scooted to the edge of his chair, reaching for Honey’s legs and lifting them to rest over his shoulders. He grinned eagerly at her before dipping his head forward, between her thighs. He kissed her, his lips as wet and hungry as hers. When she moaned, letting her head drop back and her eyes close, he heard Gretel’s voice again; he wanted to hear her scream for him.
He licked a slow, deep line between her lips before drawing one in to suck gently on it, tasting her. She shifted her hips, inching closer to Hansel. He curled his fingers into her thighs, pulling her legs open until she was spread wide for him and he buried his face in her pussy.
He found her swollen clit, teasing it with the tip of his tongue until she cried out for him and her hips rocked forward, pushing herself against his mouth. He took her encouragement and latched his mouth around her clit, sucking on it desperately, bringing one hand around and under her thigh, reaching with two fingers until he found her opening. He plunged his fingers into her while he sucked and licked and ground his lips against her. Her walls were slick and tight, gripping his fingers as he worked them in and out, in and out of her.
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