She stretched her gait and swung her pail, even sang a little, knowing she would eventually have everything she wanted. It was a lovely day to be alone on the trail, with the men at work and Maria probably gone back to bed after her father had left.
Sounds of splashing greeted her as she approached the creek. She gasped at the sight of a blond head and golden brown bare back. He’s here? I thought he was working. She darted behind one of the dark green bushes, pushing leaves on either side away so she could peek at the bather.
He stood slightly angled and his penis was prominent. Her hand flew to her throat, then slowly lowered, until she caressed her nipples the way he caressed himself. He threw back his head as his hand worked faster and hers dropped below her stomach. He must have found a rock or something in the creek to prop up a leg and he now stood like a statue, his wide chest reddened by the sun just creeping into that end of the sky, coloring his blond hair a myriad of golds and reds, still pumping with his hand. Gretel propped up her own leg and pulled her skirts high, to reach her corresponding area, exploring herself for the first time, with him as her guide.
The neckline of her blouse again fell as she rubbed her hand faster over herself. Her pointed breasts begged for release and she unlaced her corset to pull back the fabric, exposing them to the new sun. She touched her taut nipples, while pushing her hips up and down, as he did. Pleasure coursed through her, escaping in a sigh, louder than she’d realized. He stopped and seemed to look straight through the bush where she hid. Their eyes met.
“Come out, Gretel,” he said, voice hoarse with excitement. Her heart caught in her throat then a smile snuck out onto her face. She edged out from the bush, skirt catching on the pointed black-green leaves.
Hansel stared, unbelieving. Her breasts winked at him under the gaping corset and her uplifted skirt revealed beautiful, long legs. The world might not approve of brother and sister looking at each in such a way, but the world had taken away her mother when she was only seven and most needed her. And the world had given her the horrible Maria.
The world be damned, her father would say when he did something unconventional.
Gretel blushed a charming rose color, as she stepped out of the skirt and divested of everything else, to stand amongst the trees as a curvaceous column of maiden ideal. Hansel licked his lips, dry in spite of being in the water. He resisted the urge to touch himself again, when there was something so much better so close.
Mother’s necklace, he said to himself. He knew their father had given her the wooden heart on a long cord that their mother had worn, but he’d never seen her wear it. It wasn’t around her neck, but slung low on her hips, with the glazed cherry heart dangling just over her pubis. Her strategic braids drew his eyes back to her enchanting chest as she walked down the hill, nearing the creek, coming to him.
Her firm, round buttocks swayed as she strolled. It was more than Maria could stand. She’d already grabbed Hansel’s clothes while he was preoccupied, before Gretel’s arrival, and she’d made her way through the trees past the brazen girl. Now, she took Gretel’s clothes too. “I knew it,” she snarled as she came out of hiding.
Gretel whipped her head around, moving her hands to cover herself. Hansel stood with his arms at his side, defiant in his nudity.
“You, sinful pair,” said Maria. “Now, your father will believe me and you will never be allowed in his house again.”
“You crone,” cried Gretel, starting up the path in pursuit of the retreating woman and her incriminating bundle.
“No, Gretel,” said Hansel as he grabbed her arm.
“Let me go,” she demanded.
“No. Gretel, you can’t go back to the house with no clothes. You’re only proving what Maria tells him. We must leave.”
“Leave?” She shook her head in refusal, her braids whipping around her as they’d done when she was a little girl.
“Father won’t accept us now. We don’t belong here anymore.”
Tears flowed from the sky-blue eyes like rain. “Father won’t want me? Where can we go? What are we going to do, put boughs on our bodies like Adam and Eve?”
“I will take you somewhere safe,” said a soothing female voice behind them. They turned their heads back to the brook, seeing only an enormous white swan. “Come, children,” the fowl said from its carrot orange and oil black beak. “I am Cygna. I can take you to a house made of gingerbread where you can be as close to each other as you’d like.”
Gretel stared at the creature. She only thought she’d imagined she’d heard it, until Hansel turned on his typical bright smile and ran back to the water. “A house made of gingerbread. Perfect for my sweet sister. Come, Gretel.”
Standing naked, Gretel turned her head in the direction of the house. All she could imagine was her father’s disfavor, something she couldn’t abide. Sniffling, she dropped her head and trudged down to the bank of the creek where Hansel and the talking swan waited. “We still have no clothes,” she pointed out.
The swan laughed…laughed. “As long as you’re with me, no one can see or hear you.”
“Are you sure?” Gretel asked, climbing on the bird’s wide back, in front of her equally naked brother.
“There’s someone,” said Cygna. “Say hello.”
Gretel looked up and gasped when she saw the someone was Rolf.
“Hi ho, Rolf,” shouted Hansel, who seemed to be enjoying himself.
The descendant of Vikings continued down the path with his axe over his shoulder, whistling and oblivious to the giant talking water bird and the bare brother and sister.
“See?” said the swan. “Are you ready?”
Gretel nodded with sad resignation. Her mood improved slightly as they glided over the water. There was probably not a smoother mode of transportation anywhere, than riding a giant swan on a docile creek. She squinted at the high sun, wondering when and how she’d return to her home.
Hansel pointed out a baby fox running with its mother and dropped his hand on her leg. He shifted and lowered his head to hers. “We’re going to be fine, my sweet sister. I’ll take care of you.” He finished his promise with a pucker on her neck.
Cygna had been given the ability to sense anxiety or the possibility of one changing their mind about continuing the journey. Aware of both Gretel’s nervousness as they neared the village and Hansel’s barely controlled desire, she said, “They can’t see or hear you. You could do anything in front of them and they wouldn’t know.”
“Anything?” Hansel asked. “I could kiss Gretel in front of the miller, there, and he wouldn’t see?”
“Try it,” dared Cygna.
Curious and concentrating on his plump lips, not hidden by a beard, Gretel submitted to her brother wrapping his arms around her and leaning closer. She smiled after his first soft kiss on her lips, in front of the miller and Farmer Peiter. He lingered, placing a hand on her cheek.
“My sweet sister,” he whispered hoarsely. His tongue sought entry to her mouth. She welcomed him in, enjoying breaking tabu with her brother in the presence of their former school mistress, who strolled past them. Hansel’s kisses became hungrier, bruising. He dropped his mouth to Gretel’s neck and shoulders, then her breasts, sucking hard on the nipples until she moaned.
“Cygna, must I stay on your back?” he asked through desperate breaths.
The swan laughed again. “No, brother, you may do what you want and remain unseen.”
Gretel cocked her head, curious about that exchange. Hansel hopped into the warm, chest-deep water and looked up at her with a smile, pulling her legs apart. She gasped as his tongue sought new entry, this time not waiting for invitation.
She leaned back her head and lifted her hips to allow him greater access. On the creek bank, young Rutger Larsen looked around furtively, before giving pretty Maud Samuels a chaste kiss. The contrast between that and her brother tonguing and munching her with gusto made her giggle.
Hansel laughed too, his mirth muffled by her cu
rling public hair. “Cygna,” he said again.
“Yes, you may,” she answered. “Just make sure one of you is backed up against me.”
Hansel pulled a curious Gretel into the water with him, her back to the waterfowl that might as well have been a wall, as it didn't budge with the weight against it. “My sweet sister.” His wet cock slid into her, eliciting a shriek she still couldn’t believe the villagers on the path didn’t hear.
“Trust me, Gretel. I won’t hurt you,” he whispered, making small thrusts to accustom her to the feeling and rhythm. She responded, braced against the feathered wall, her heart and lungs palpitating, as she countered each push and mischievously waved to the cheese merchant’s wife.
The novelty of passers-by faded, as Hansel gripped her more tightly and pressed more firmly. Her breaths were shorter and louder. Her burning skin seemed to have been opened for the sun to penetrate her, as Hansel had.
“I love you, Gretel,” he shouted, slamming one final time. She answered with a scream, her legs falling limply from around his waist, her head lolling on his shoulder.
His exit was both a relief and a regret. She didn’t think her body would ever feel the same or that it would ever stop tingling. Blood trickled from between her legs, to flow with the brook. Still recovering, Gretel and Hansel didn’t notice as Cygna gulped it down.
He lifted his sister back onto the swan’s back and climbed on himself, leaning her back in his embrace, euphoric in his accomplishment.
“Now that you have that out of the way, are you ready to continue? You want to be in the house before dark,” Cygna said.
“Jā, take us there,” answered Hansel. The water of the rill reflected the sky, moving from blue to pink, bright orange and red.
Gretel reclined quietly in her brother’s arms, as he murmured to her about the wonderful life they could have together in the gingerbread house. She squirmed, unfulfilled, despite the throbbing and fluid inside her. She’d enjoyed what they’d done and wouldn’t mind repeating it, but now it was clear to her the life he spoke of for them wasn’t what she wanted. She knew exactly what was.
***
The narrowing brook reflected a subdued purple by the time Cygna stopped. “Here, we are,” she said, “just through those trees. Enjoy.”
The still nude siblings stepped onto land and the swan took flight, a large, white triangle on the dark sky, hurrying away. They turned to each other. “Let’s go,” said Hansel, smiling and taking her hand. “I’m so hungry, I could eat a house, especially a gingerbread one.”
Giggling, they ran through the trees, coming out on a moonlit clearing. The grass gleamed green, the surrounding trees stood symmetrical and trim, flowers flourished—all showcasing the house. The spicy scent of gingerbread permeated the molasses brown walls. Discs of white and dark chocolate layered the roof. Candy canes trimmed the window sashes and door frames. Squealing like children, they ran forward.
“Hansel, the windows are spun sugar!” Gretel exclaimed. “It’s delicious.”
He chuckled. “Jā, Gretel. And the borders for the flowerbeds are cupcakes.” His voice dropped lower as he approached her. “And almost as tasty as you.”
She took another lick of the pane and gave him a drunken grin. Her head seemed so light, as if all thought, worry or fear had left it and only cheer remained…and abandon. Earlier, she’d followed Hansel’s lead but now, she jumped into his arms, her mouth eager to share treats.
Hansel fell to the ground and turned so he lay on top of her, his beautiful sister.
Through blurred vision, Gretel studied his face—a little older, a hint of a beard. She grabbed his candy-hard penis and steered it inside her, thrusting up on him as if she’d done it all her life. She grunted, drowning Hansel in hot fluid, encasing him, searching within herself for culmination.
“Nibble, nibble, like a…oh, looks like you two found your own dessert,” said a cackling voice from the door.
The couple writhing in the grass snapped their heads in that direction. A tall, angular redhead, barely dressed in garters and corset, belied the old-lady timbre of the voice that had interrupted them. She cleared her throat, speaking in a low, silky voice that seemed to carry both suggestion and pampering. “Shall I give you more time, or are you ready to explain yourselves?”
“I’m Hansel,” the young man said. He climbed off the girl but remained on the ground. “I beg your pardon for not rising but, as you can see, we have no clothes.”
The woman laughed. “Don’t let that bother you, handsome boy. Would you be more comfortable if I was naked too?”
She unlaced the corset, opening it to the moon’s glow. Alabaster orbs that rivaled the moon for their beauty held Hansel’s gaze. The woman smirked at his obvious stricken state and turned her eyes to the girl, sitting up with her knees raised for modesty. Funny, she didn’t realize it afforded an irresistible vaginal view. “And, who are you, pretty one?”
“Gretel,” she answered, coiling a braid around her hand. “I’m sorry, Mistress. We were brought to this house after our parents threw us out, but not told someone already lived here.”
The redhead shifted her eyes between the two. They were brother and sister? The girl probably hadn’t realized she’d confessed that, not with the drugged candy swimming inside her. She twinged between her legs, looking at the pair.
Usually, the swan sent her young children who had to be fattened before they were appealing. These two were enticing for a completely different reason. She stepped off the porch and strolled past the young man, looking back over her shoulder to ensure his eyes were trained on her scantily-covered ass. She stood in front of the young woman. “Don’t worry, dear. There’s enough to share. Perhaps you’d like something else to eat and I can find you both some clothes too. Come inside.”
She stood at the doorway, watching as Hansel helped Gretel to her feet and brushed grass out of her hair. Sweet.
She’d had no meat for a week or so and had been eating a thin vegetable stew. At the fireplace, she leaned over her enormous pot to ladle some for her visitors. She smiled at the sound of a stumble behind her. As she thought, looking over her shoulder, the sight of her buttocks and long legs in that position had caused the boy to lose his footing. “Sit,” she told them, placing bowls on the table. “I’ll see what I have for you to wear.”
Hansel and Gretel, hungrier than they had ever been, picked up the bowls and gulped down the stew, then looked around the small, one-room house. The table where they sat was in front of the fireplace, its red flames offering light and heat to warm their food, but not leaving the room stifling. A bed took up the entire corner to the left of the fireplace.
The wooden floor and walls looked as though they hadn’t been washed in some time. A red curtain hung to the right of the fireplace. Baskets grouped on the floor, in every corner, even from the ceiling. Gretel had tried basket-weaving herself and was impressed with the blending of colors and fineness of the materials. In fact, she’d never seen baskets with so many variations of yellow, brown, red and black.
“Here we are,” said Mistress. “They might be a bit tight, but it’s just the three of us here. Gretel, this is for you.”
Gretel took the blue frock from her. It had been years since she’d worn a dirndl. Did Mistress have a little girl? Was it something she’d worn herself when she was a child? She slipped it over her head. It was extremely short, skimming the top of her thighs and its tight bodice pushed her breasts upward so the upper arc of her nipples peeked out, but it was better than being nude.
“Very pretty,” said Mistress. She smiled as she stood in front of Gretel and pulled her braids forward, grazing her breast.
“Uh, Mistress,” said Hansel, still at the table and becoming uncomfortable as the drugs’ effect abated.
“Oh, yes,” she said, throwing a bundle to him. She pointed to the curtain. “You can change through there.”
Hansel lowered his eyes to the small lederhosen, imagining his groin co
nfined in them.
“Hurry,” Mistress said. She leaned over him, her breast touching his bare arm. “I have something special planned for us.”
Grinning, Hansel allowed Mistress to lead him to the curtains and walked through an indicated opening. She pushed herself against it. The curtain fell from the ceiling, revealing Hansel in a cage. He shook the bars, his enraged face red as the fire.
“Hansel!” screamed Gretel. She ran to him, shaking the bars from her side. “What? What are you doing?” she demanded of Mistress.
The woman shrugged an alabaster shoulder, speaking calmly over Hansel’s shouts. “He’s not hurt. I just wanted us to be able to spend some time alone. I’ll release him soon enough.”
“Let him out now,” Gretel ordered, her breasts nearly bursting from the child-sized bodice with her frantic breathing.
Mistress swallowed her rising excitement as her eyes darted between the attractive and desperate couple. She shook her head. “Not yet. How soon he is released is up to you.”
“What do you mean?” Gretel asked, as Hansel lunged forward, trying to get his hands around the woman’s throat.
Mistress pressed herself against her. Gretel attempted to back away but the stronger woman held her close. She slanted her eyes to the bed. “Come with me, or I’ll throw him in the cooking pot.”
“No,” roared Hansel. “No, Gretel.”
“You can’t do that,” Gretel said, shaking her head furiously, her heart in her throat and mind reeling.
“I can, pretty one. I have many times.” She palmed Gretel between her legs. The girl gasped. “Now, do you want to lie down in a soft bed after your long trip, or do you want to watch your brother boil?”
Gretel bit her lip. She turned her head to Hansel, who shook his head, mouthing “No”. She issued a resigned sigh and walked to the bed.
Hot Grimm- Book 1: Fairy Tales for Adults Page 2