Hansel and Gretel (Erotic Fairy Tales)

by Leila Bryce Sin

  His cock jumped, his trousers keeping it trapped. With his free hand, Hansel fought to get his trousers open. Finally his cock was free, springing up hard and eager. Faster than she would notice, Hansel switched hands, gripping his cock with fingers slick from her. As he tongued and fingered his sweet Gretel’s pussy he began to stroke himself. Hansel groaned into her, making his lips vibrate against her clit and she moaned long and loud for him.

  Soon she was squirming on the table, rubbing her sweet pussy harder and harder against his hungry mouth, noises falling uncontrolled from her. For a moment he didn’t recognize her voice but when she screamed out his name, her walls gripping his fingers as she came over them, her body thrashing against his mouth, he remembered the sound of his name on her lips. Hansel pumped his cock faster and faster, his fist slamming down into him, gripping himself tighter and tighter as he swell in his hand. And when he heard Gretel cry out his name, gripping his head with her supple thighs, his orgasm tore through him, coming violently and making his body spasm. He withdrew his fingers slowly, leaning forward to draw his tongue up her glistening folds, tasting the warm honey of her orgasm, making her buck suddenly when his tongue touched her swollen bud. But she didn’t giggle like she always did when he teased her too quickly after he brought her.

  Hansel lifted his head to look at her. The color of her hair wasn’t quite right and her lips not as sweet but when she sat up straight and leaned over to steal a kiss from him the intoxicating aroma of warm sugar and melted butter pushed the confusion from his mind. When Honey broke the kiss and Hansel opened his eyes he was looking into the amber eyes of Gretel.

  “Now,” she said in a satisfied purr, “time for pie.”

  Hansel ate dinner with his mother later that night, staring blanking as he shoveled his food robotically. His mother worried about him, but assumed his strange behavior was nothing more than a young man dealing with a broken heart, so she let him be. His eyes seemed to become clearer with each bite he took, easing some of her concern, though he never seemed to become full, no matter how much he ate. After he scraped the last mouthful of potatoes he excused himself and went to bed.

  Hansel was so exhausted from his long days in the forest he didn’t bother to undress and unceremoniously fell into bed, fully clothed. When he rolled over, attempting to find a more comfortable position, he heard a piece of paper crinkle under him. He realized Gretel would be waiting for him as the sun had set over an hour ago, and as he climbed out of his window he wondered why she had slipped a note into his window instead of just asking him to meet her there while they spent the afternoon together.

  “You came!” Gretel said as she rushed toward Hansel as he came out of the tree line.

  “Of course,” he answered, chuckling lightly as he swept her up in a hug, holding her soft, lithe body against his. Her soft curls fell against his face as she buried hers into his neck, Hansel expected to smell warm sugar and was surprised when the scent of jasmine swirled about him.

  “I have missed you so,” Gretel said, pressing small kisses to his neck.

  “It has only been a couple of hours,” Hansel said, his confusion growing. He set Gretel down, stepping back from her to look her in the eye.

  “What are you talking about?” Gretel asked, just as confused as Hansel.

  “Since we last saw each other,” Hansel replied.

  “Hansel, my love,” Gretel said, placing a hand on his wrist, “it’s been nearly a week since we last saw each other.”

  “No,” Hansel said, shaking his head slowly, staring at Gretel but as he watched her face it seemed to morph momentarily. Her cheekbones were a little softer, her eyes a little wider.

  “Hansel?” Gretel spoke his name, bringing him out of his thoughts and her face looked like her own again.

  “You really don’t remember?”

  “There isn’t anything to remember, Hansel.”

  “We’ve spent every day together for the last week, in the cabin.”

  “What cabin?”

  “The cabin made of candy, in the wood,” he waved a hand in the direction of the forest behind them. Gretel took a step back from him, a flicker of fear crossing her face.

  “A cabin made of candy,” she repeated slowly.

  “Yes, you’ve been making me pies, feeding me to make up for all the hard work I’ve been doing,” he continued, speaking a little faster, moving closer to Gretel. “And today, you really don’t remember today? I took you, on the table.”

  “Hansel, I think maybe you’ve been in the sun too much,” Gretel said, taking another step back from him.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head and dropping his eyes, not wanting to see the growing fear in Gretel’s face.

  “I can see you’ve been eating, and pies would certainly explain it,” Gretel said, tilting her head to the side as she looked him over.

  “What?” Hansel asked, picking his head up.

  “You’ve put on weight,” Gretel said, moving closer to him again. She poked him in the stomach, usually firm and taut; it was now a little soft and gave under her finger. “You say you’ve been to a cottage made of candy every day this week? I would believe it.”

  Now Hansel took a step back, suddenly embarrassed and a little self-conscious. Gretel’s hand fell to her side.

  “I did notice my trousers were a little tighter today,” he said.

  “I remember a story from when we were children,” Gretel said, turning away from Hansel and moving towards the water’s edge. The moon was low in the sky, the lack of light making the surface of the water look like black glass. “My mother warned me about going into the forest, she said there was a witch who enticed children with sweets. She would snatch them and keep them in cages, feeding them nothing but sugar until they were fat and plump.”

  “I think I remember that story,” Hansel said, feeling more clear headed than he had in days, as if Gretel’s bell like voice was dispelling a fog that had settled in his mind.

  “Any time children went missing they would say the witch had caught them,” Gretel went on. Hansel came up beside her. They looked out over the water together. The years of memories swirling around them: playing here as children, kissing for the first time with their toes dipped in the water, the night they’d swam naked together and made love as the moonlight glinted over the water.

  “And what did she do with the children she stole?” Hansel asked, his voice a low whisper as if afraid of the answer.

  “She ate them,” Gretel said. She turned and looked at him, realizing his face was a little rounder, a little fuller than it had been the last time she’d seen him. “Hansel, do you still believe it was me you’ve been spending your days with?”

  Hansel turned and looked at her, realizing her eyes were full of unshed tears. He heard himself telling her that he had taken her earlier that day and his stomach flipped. If it wasn’t Gretel he’d been with then he had just admitted to betraying her.

  “Gretel,” he said and dropped to his knees in front of her. He reached out and took her hands in his, pressing them to his face. “I swear, I didn’t know, I,” he struggled for words.

  “I know,” she said reluctantly. The tears spilled down her cheeks as she looked at him. She stepped forward; Hansel wrapped his arms around her legs and hugged her tightly. Gretel petted his hair slowly, trying to push any thoughts of betrayal out of her mind. If he was in fact under a spell it really wasn’t his fault and if he truly thought he had been with her this whole time, was it a betrayal? Hansel had never done anything to hurt her in all the years they had been together. Even when her parents announced her engagement he hadn’t left her side or even raised his voice in anger.

  “If you let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make this up to you,” Hansel said, rubbing his cheek against her thigh. He sniffed and she realized he was crying too.

  “Hansel,” Gretel said, crooking two fingers under his chin to lift his face to look at her. “I am betrothed to another.”
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  “We could run away together,” he said, pushing to his feet and capturing her hands again, drawing them to his chest.

  “We would have nothing, no money, how would we live?”

  “The witch,” Hansel said. Suddenly his mind was clear and he could see the candy cottage filled with golden trinkets. The gold silverware alone would give them enough money to pack up and leave. The plates and goblets would keep them more than comfortable in a new home away from her parents and her fat fiancé. They might even be able to afford to take his mother with them.

  “What of her?” Gretel asked in a stony voice.

  “She has gold,” he said quickly, “enough gold for us to make a new life!”

  “Hansel, she’s been fattening you up to eat you, she’s had you under a spell to think she’s me all this week. How do you think you’re going to outsmart her to steal from her?”

  “With your help.”

  They crept through the night, moving as quietly as possible. With every crunch of leaf and every skitter of pebble they cringed and froze, sure the witch would hear their approach. When they could see the dark shape of the cottage through the trees they paused, hiding behind one large oak. Hansel could smell the warm sugar and melted butter in the air. His eyes grew heavy and his fingers itched with the need to pry a jeweled candy from the door. Only Gretel’s hand in his kept him still.

  “What are you planning?” Gretel whispered, her brown eyes wide as she tried to peer through the dark.

  “One of us will have to distract her while the other steals the gold, then we well run away together,” Hansel said. Gretel did not like this plan. Her fingers tightened around his when he went to move forward, away from the protection of the oak tree.

  “Wait, do you think it’s wise that you be the one to distract her?” Gretel asked.

  “She will focus on me, probably try to get me to eat another blasted pie,” Hansel said a little heatedly, “then you can sneak in and get whatever gold you can.”

  “Hansel, she’ll see me,” Gretel said, shaking her head and trying to pull on his arm.

  “You’re probably right,” he said, taking back the step he’d taken, hiding behind the tree again. “Alright, I’ll go in, but I’ll convince her to come outside with me, when you see us come out, and when it’s safe, you go in and get the gold.”

  “What then?”

  “We’ll meet at the lake.”

  Gretel still didn’t like the plan, but it was much better than their first. She just prayed he wouldn’t succumb to the witch’s charms and be lost to her again. With one last, desperate kiss Hansel went to the front door, leaving Gretel hiding behind the tree. She peeked around the edge of the tree to watch when she heard Hansel knock at the door.

  Light spilled out when the witch answered the door and Gretel felt her cheeks flush with angry heat when she saw how scantily clad she was. Her fingers crooked into claws when she watched the witch smile up at Hansel, touch his face and then lead him inside. Gretel forced herself to take a deep breath to attempt to calm down. Hansel looked clear headed when he went in, he knew she was out here, he wouldn’t betray her, not this time.

  But as time passed and the pair didn’t appear, Gretel couldn’t stand by and wait any longer. She moved slowly through the small clearing before the cottage, minding the fallen twigs and leaves as she walked. She went to the small window by the door and crouched down to peer through it. Before she could get a look she heard the click of the front doorknob. Gretel ducked down, hiding in the shadow cast by the wall of the house and held her breath.

  “Yes, a walk in the moonlight, how sweet,” the witch said as she came out. Gretel tried to make herself as small as possible, holding as still as a rock. When the sound of footsteps had fallen away and she was sure she was completely alone, Gretel picked up her head and rushed to the front door.

  “Oh,” she gasped when she saw all the gold and jewels inside. There was a mirror on one wall framed with enough jewels to feed a village. Gretel crept in, pulling the door closed behind her. The only light in the cottage was the small fire in the fireplace. The flickering light and long shadows left the corners dark and indiscernible.

  Her stomach twisted as she willed herself forward and grabbed the first gilded thing she could, an ornate picture frame on the mantle. She emptied a basket by the hearth that was holding a bundle of firewood and tucked the picture frame inside. She carried around the basket, snatching treasures like she was shopping at market. Each item squirreled away made her braver and before she knew it, the basket was heavy on her arm.

  Just as she was turning to leave she remembered the silverware Hansel had been so insistent about. She moved quickly into the kitchen and started rummaging through the drawers for it. She could feel the heat of the oven even though it was a good three feet away from her. The smell of cookies and brownies and apple pies wafted from it as she moved about, making her mouth water and her stomach grumble.

  “Would you like a treat, little girl,” the witch whispered in her ear, just over her shoulder. Gretel shrieked and jumped in the air, losing a few of the treasures she had stolen from her basket.

  Gretel spun around, putting her back to the counter, and kept the basket between her and the witch. Gone was her lovely black hair and shining eyes; now what stood before Gretel was the bent and gnarled form of an old woman. Muscles corded her exposed arms and legs and her hair was short and wiry. Her eyes glowed with malicious power, making Gretel shrink before her.

  “So,” the witch said, taking a step closer to Gretel. “Not only do I have a nice, fat and juicy meal, I have a sweet little dessert too.”

  “It’s true,” Gretel whispered, sliding along the counter, away from the oven. “You do eat the children you steal.”

  “Ah, so you know my secret and yet you came into my trap anyway. What a stupid little girl you are,” she cackled.

  “What have you done with Hansel?” Gretel demanded, her voice only wavering a little.

  “I’m marinating him,” the witch teased. She lunged towards Gretel until her face was nearly touching hers. A squeak escaped Gretel and she was nearly bent over backwards over the counter, trying to keep away from her. The witched took a deep breath, smelling Gretel before her tongue darted out to lick her lips.

  “Hansel!” Gretel called out for him, lifting the basket and swinging it around and striking the witch in the shoulder with it. She stumbled sideways, nearly falling to the floor as the gold and gems tumbled to the floor in a loud clatter and Gretel skirted around her, running out of the kitchen. She saw the bedroom door and made for it but before she could get her hand on the knob the witch was in front of her.

  “Into the oven with you,” she said as she grabbed Gretel, her nails biting into the skin of her arms.

  Gretel struggled, kicking and striking out at the witch, but it did nothing to deter the creepy old woman from her goal: dragging Gretel into the kitchen. When she was close enough, the witch grabbed the oven door to open it, a wave of heat washed over them, blowing Gretel’s hair back. Inside the angry red mouth she could see half a dozen pies baking away, the crusts already browning.

  Gretel twisted away, spinning them around and away from the oven as she fought. Her sleeve tore with an audible rip as the witch’s grip slipped and her nails cut into the fabric. Gretel ducked when the witch struck at out her and she snatched up the gilded picture frame she’d taken from the mantel and struck out with it. The corner of the frame sank into the soft spot of the witch’s temple, stunning her momentarily.

  She wavered on her feet, blinking slowly but before she could regain her composure Gretel rushed forward and shoved her as hard as she could. With a wail of surprise and terror, the witch flew backwards, into the flaming oven. Gretel slammed the oven door shut with a clang as the witch’s claws scrabbled at the door, desperate to get out. Gretel turned the handle to lock the door and turned her back on the dying woman.

  She felt a stitch in her chest and a sob in her thr
oat but she didn’t let either out yet; she still had to find Hansel. Dashing through the kitchen, kicking trinkets out of her way, Gretel ran through the tiny cottage and wrenched open the bedroom door. Inside the room was lit with candles and was decorated sparsely with a simple bed, a dresser and a very large iron cage.

  In the cage, Hansel sat, stripped naked and clinging to the bars. With a gasp Gretel ran to him, only to be stopped by the lock on the door.

  “Oh, Hansel,” she sobbed, tears springing to her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head, refusing to cry yet.

  “I’m alright,” he said softly but he didn’t sound alright. “Please, open a window.” Gretel did as he asked, the fresh cool night air swirled through the room, whisking out the smell of melted butter and warm sugar. In mere moments Hansel looked better, the fresh air clearing his mind. Feeling a small amount of relief Gretel ransacked the tiny room, looking for the keys. She finally found them in a jewelry box on top of the dresser and she released Hansel from his prison.

  “Let’s hurry,” Gretel said. Hand in hand they left the bedroom, stopping only long enough to gather up the treasures Gretel had stolen and nearly lost. Hansel found the gilded silverware and bundled it up in a cloth napkin, tucking it into the basket with the rest.

  The two ran from the cottage, through the trees until they were back at the water’s edge. Panting, trying to catch their breath, they found themselves laughing. Hysterical with relief they clung to each other, Gretel pressing kisses all over Hansel’s face, her arms wrapped around his neck, grateful to have him back and alive in her arms.

  Soon Hansel captured Gretel’s mouth with his own, his arms around her waist and crushing her body against his. They ripped and tore at each other’s clothing in a frenzy until their skin was bare to the moonlight and crisp night air. Gretel pushed away from Hansel, making him set her on the ground and she spun and ran for the water. Hansel watched, the moonlight highlighting her delicate curves, until she dove underwater.