Hansel and Gretel With the Sexual Hunter

by Liz Adams

  The woman tilted Gretel’s chair on its side so that Gretel was lying sideways. Gretel shut her eyes, anticipating the blow wherever it may land. She felt the chair shake at the sound of the hammer hitting wood. Building up her courage, Gretel opened her eyes to see what the hunter was doing. Wicka whacked the back leg of the chair until the chair leg cracked off. The assassin spun Gretel onto Gretel’s other side and hammered off the other back chair leg.

  She pulled Gretel by the chair and hoisted the chair onto the food counter.

  Gretel sat on the counter with her legs hanging off. The only difference was that she couldn’t move. What remained of the chair kept her tied and immobile.

  Wicka dragged Hansel by the back of his chair to the counter Gretel was on, and spun the chair around so that he faced Gretel, his head level to her thighs.

  “Just pretend you have your own little oven in front of you. Tell me what you need to cook something delicious in there.”

  Hansel’s mind seemed to be working. Gretel hoped he was forming a plan to escape. He told Wicka, “Get me some popsicles from the cooler.”

  Popsicles! Gretel shuddered at the very thought. What was Hansel thinking? She watched helplessly as Wicka went to the transparent door of the refrigerator-sized freezer, opened it, and pulled out a box of rocket popsicles.

  Wicka padded back and placed the box in front of Hansel.

  Hansel tore open the box, removed an orange popsicle, and tore it free from its wrapper.

  He held it up to Gretel’s face and asked, “Will you do the honors and get it wet first? I know how much you like popsicles.”

  Gretel studied him. She hated popsicles. He knew that about her. The way he looked at her with the almost imperceptible nod, it seemed he was asking if she were willing to play along for something he had planned.

  Only if my life depended on it would I suck on a popsicle.

  He had a plan. Gretel knew to signal to him that she was game.

  Gretel said, “Gladly.”

  He put the popsicle close to her lips.

  She gave him the show of his life. Keeping eye contact at all times, she licked the orange tip on one side, then the other. She slipped the tip in between her lips and sucked on the cold fruity ice, bobbing her head slowly upon it.

  The cold sensation of the flavored ice may not have been so great, but she loved how Hansel’s eyes popped wide. A quick glance at his crotch where his cock still hung free revealed she was doing things to his own popsicle.

  She took long licks from the base of the frozen dessert, up to its tip on every side, making sure she made every side slick and wet.

  Wicka said, “You are so sexy.”

  She had unzipped the front of her catsuit and had her hands crossing her chest tucked inside, squeezing her breasts underneath.

  Hansel lowered the popsicle and brought it between Gretel’s legs. “Ready?”

  Gretel nodded.

  He pushed the tip in. Gretel clenched her fists and curled her toes. She shut her eyes tight and bit her lip. Cold! So cold! She squeezed her entrance. Bad idea. The squeeze melted the entire tip of the popsicle off inside of her. The cold numbed her on the inside.

  She then felt a hot tongue licking away the cold.

  She opened her eyes. Hansel had his head buried between her thighs and was sucking at that bit of popsicle, which now felt like a cold slush inside of her.

  He licked harder, with strong laps, warming back to life her folds and entrance. Thank goodness he understood what she was going through. He clearly worked at getting rid of the ice that was freezing her from the inside out. And that meant heating her from the inside out with a lot of tongue-lapping friction and lip sucking action.

  The cold turned into hot tingles across her body.

  “Pump her with it,” Wicka instructed Hansel.

  Hansel pushed the remainder of the popsicle in and out of Gretel, and licked every where the melted ice dripped out of her. The whole process started over. The cold, the numbness, the warm strokes of Hansel’s tongue, the jolts of fire streaking throughout her body and peaking at her nipples.

  Her breasts needed attention. Wicka seemed to pick up her desire because she yanked down Gretel’s bra and cupped Gretel’s breasts with gentle touches. Her hands felt cool and soft. They wasted no time in making Gretel’s nipples hard. Prickles of delicious sensations danced across her chest. Wicka was staring at her, nostrils flaring with desire. Was that love in her eyes? Or was it sorrow?

  All the while, Hansel licked and sucked on her, thrusting his tongue as deep as he could go to melt and burn away the ice inside of her.

  That was strange. One of her legs felt free to move. Gretel noticed her ankle on the hidden side of Wicka was no longer tied up. Hansel had probably untied her.

  So that was his plan. Hansel would untie her while Wicka was distracted.

  Hansel’s head still mashed between her legs, he kept on servicing her, sending waves of heat washing through her. Gretel noticed that the only thing left of the popsicle was the stick. The rest had melted inside of her and had been swallowed by Hansel.

  Gretel’s eyes widened. Wicka was taking out three more popsicles. Lemon, lime, and watermelon.

  “Let’s get her motor really going.” Wicka unwrapped all three and handed them to Hansel. “Shove all three of these up inside her at the same time.”

  Hansel took and held the three popsicles by their sticks in one hand. Gretel wondered, Can he see by my face how anxious I am at the prospect of all that cold inside of me?

  “Hand me the chocolate sauce first,” he told Wicka.

  “Mmm. I like where this is going.” She went to the countertop of ice-cream toppings and snatched the plastic bottle of chocolate syrup.

  Hansel took it and held the three popsicles upright with one hand as he poured the chocolate sauce over them with his other hand.

  Coating it with chocolate was a good idea. Maybe it wouldn’t feel as cold.

  “Jack those things in and out of her,” Wicka said.

  Hansel checked Gretel’s face. Gretel noticed he was waiting for her consent. She nodded.

  He pushed all three popsicles inside her. Cold! Cold! Cold! She felt her pussy stretch wide to accommodate them. Hansel pulled them out a bit and pushed them back in. The stretching of her pussy felt incredible. As he thrust the popsicles in and out of her, they started to melt. She clenched and realized it was a mistake. The constriction made the popsicles slide off of their sticks as Hansel pulled the sticks out. Now she was filled with the slush of three popsicles.

  Cold! Cold! Cold!

  Gretel tried to push them out, but Wicka thrust two fingers inside.

  “Nuh, uh.” Wicka wiggled her fingers, stirring the slush. “Hansel is going to have to suck them out. After all, he needs to be properly trained on how to please you.”

  Hansel poured more chocolate syrup over Gretel’s pussy and licked up the mix of chocolate and melted ice. His tongue was so hot compared to the lingering slush inside. The sensation made her groan.

  Wicka had an arm around Gretel’s shoulders and started jack-hammering her fingers into Gretel, igniting sparks between her legs. Wicka clamped her mouth over Gretel’s breast, and those sparks turned into an all-out bonfire.

  Gretel felt herself close to climax.

  Wicka’s tongue swirled around her nipple and Hansel’s licks became more fervent. Was he getting turned on by the sight of Wicka at her breast?

  Gretel no longer felt the popsicles anymore. They had completely melted away out of her pussy and down Hansel’s throat.

  Wicka removed her fingers and grabbed the bottle of chocolate sauce from Hansel. Hansel kept on sucking Gretel. Wicka poured the chocolate syrup all over Gretel’s breasts. She rubbed Gretel’s breasts, painted them dark with finger-painting strokes and licked them clean. That bonfire inside of Gretel exploded into her second orgasm and she shuddered and convulsed.

  ***

  Hansel wasn’t finished. He needed
to untie Gretel’s other binds. He stuck his own two fingers into her, demanding that she move on to a third climax. Wicka poured chocolate sauce over Hansel fingers.

  As he pummeled her with his fingers, he licked around his fingers and collected the chocolate that dripped over her folds. While Gretel moaned, Hansel’s cock grew. He felt such power over her, his every lick, his every suck. Her pleasure was entirely in his command.

  “Here’s your next lesson.” Wicka poured chocolate syrup on Gretel’s clit.

  Hansel sucked on it. The taste of the chocolate combined with the thrill of turning Gretel on made his head giddy.

  Wicka bent over, putting her head closer between Gretel’s legs, and grabbed his cock. Hansel tried to remain focused on licking off the chocolate syrup, but the way the hunter squeezed his cock to full attention got him to lean back and rest for a moment to take it in.

  “Watch and learn,” Wicka said.

  Wicka poured more syrup on Gretel’s clit and began sucking it herself. Hansel watched Gretel’s body writhe as she squealed with pleasure. He had never seen Gretel so beautiful. If tasting her gave her this much pleasure, he’d be willing to do it anytime, anywhere. At a park, in a restaurant, on a plane. That squeal of hers turned him on more than ever. He kept right on fingering her, feeling Wicka’s tongue around his fingers.

  Wicka was pumping up and down his length and felt incredible. Was this wrong? Was this cheating on Gretel? By Gretel’s moans of ecstasy, it hardly seemed so. It felt more like Wicka shared with him a common goal: to please Gretel.

  Wicka came back up for air from between Gretel’s thighs and poured more of the sauce down Gretel’s slit. Hansel moved his head forward to lap it up but accidentally butted heads with Wicka who was also trying for it. Hansel and Wicka looked at each other and laughed. She placed her free hand on his head and pushed him aside playfully as she swooped down to feast on Gretel.

  Hansel thrust three fingers inside Gretel. With his other hand, he reached for the back of Gretel’s chair to untie her wrists.

  They might be able to take control of the situation if both of them had their hands free. As much as they needed to stop Wicka, Hansel was going to be sorry to see her go. She was the catalyst that sparked the sexual chemistry between Gretel and himself.

  He was almost done freeing Gretel who was wiggling and squealing with glee. Once free, Gretel could hold Wicka down and Hansel could use the rope from Gretel’s binds to tie Wicka up. Once she was secured, they could work out what to do next.

  Hansel untied the last knot. Gretel’s hands were now free.

  But Hansel didn’t take into account the timing of Gretel’s next orgasm. She used her free hands to push Wicka’s face into her pussy and cried out, “I’m close. Keep going.”

  Wicka suddenly stood upright with a chocolate chin and grabbed Gretel’s wrists. Her eyes darted between Hansel and Gretel.

  Hansel bolted from the seat, his ankles still tied to the chair. He wrapped his arms around Wicka to hold her back from his beloved. “Please don’t hurt her.”

  Wicka looked as though she were reassessing the situation. She released Gretel’s wrists and said to Hansel, “Let go of me.”

  After a beat, Hansel loosened his grip and dropped his hands.

  “Pretty sneaky,” Wicka said at last. “But I decided a long time ago not to go through with the assignment. You’re going to leave here alive and well.”

  Why did Hansel believe her? There was something about the way she said it. Maybe it was the fact that she said it at all. She could have jumped for a weapon. She could have fought back. Instead, she spoke to them. The truth was, Hansel thought, she could have killed us while we were unconscious. Maybe she decided to let us go before we came to.

  “The trouble is,” Wicka added, “your families want you dead and may hire someone else to finish the job. But I can protect you. If you stay with me. What do you think?”

  Hans thought about it. Staying with this woman seemed dangerous, but based on everything he’s seen this woman do, the danger was not about surviving. If anything, with the skills this woman had, their lives would be in good hands. The danger was about keeping his own hands to himself. The way she moved, the way she dressed, the way she encouraged sex. Wicka would be a hard woman to resist. Still, the way Gretel seemed to enjoy herself with Wicka. Was it possible…?

  He said to Gretel, “I’m having bad thoughts.”

  “Me too.” Gretel’s words were a relief.

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “I thought you might.”

  Wicka looked back and forth between the two. She said to Hansel, “What was that about? What’s your plan?”

  “Same as before,” Hansel said. “To throw you into the oven.”

  Hansel forced Wicka’s head against Gretel’s pussy and Wicka started laughing. By the way Gretel was moaning, it was clear the assassin was firing her tongue into Gretel, again. Gretel grabbed hold of Wicka’s head and bent over her. Though Hansel’s ankles were still tied to the chair, he found he could stand up. That gave Hansel better reach. He stood and caressed Gretel, running his hands through her hair, stroking her shoulders and back. Gretel raised her head and he kissed her passionately. She broke the kiss and shouted and shuddered and convulsed and writhed.

  The assassin returned upright. When it was clear that Gretel had come back to the planet, she put her arms out to Hansel. He leaned over to give Gretel a kiss.

  Her lips were tender.

  After the kiss, she said, “Mmm. Chocolate.”

  She put her arms out to Wicka. She kissed her.

  Hansel was still hard from Wicka’s attention. Seeing the two kiss made him even harder.

  Gretel placed a hand on the back of Wicka’s head and on the back of Hansel’s head, coaxing them to kiss.

  Really, Hansel asked himself. Kissing another woman? There was something that seemed so much more intimate about a kiss. Gretel must have noticed his surprise because she nodded as though to answer his question.

  Hansel kissed Wicka. Wicka’s lips tasted of chocolate and of his fiancée.

  “It’s your turn,” Gretel said to Wicka.

  ***

  With her binds completely untied, Gretel stood and kissed Wicka. Gretel had never before kissed lips so soft. And that was why she kissed this woman, right? To feel those soft lips, and to perform for Hansel.

  It’s not as if I’m bisexual, Gretel told herself. But by the way her heart pounded and knees melted under this gorgeous woman’s kiss, Gretel knew she was kidding herself.

  Gretel broke the kiss and saw Hansel standing behind Wicka. He had his arms around Wicka, his hands inside her catsuit directly on the woman’s breasts, squeezing them, pinching her nipples.

  A pain hit Gretel’s heart. She ignored it.

  “Sit down on the floor,” Gretel instructed.

  The hunter complied. Gretel pulled off Wicka’s catsuit and panties.

  Hansel still wore his tux as he sat on the floor with his legs flat on the ground and open. Wicka sat between his legs and lay back, her head resting on his chest. She had her knees up and legs spread apart. Hansel continued to touch Wicka’s breasts, fondling them, caressing them, massaging them.

  That pain in Gretel’s heart returned. She wondered what she was feeling. Was it jealousy? It was. But Gretel knew that how she reacted to something was her choice. She was still in control. Right now, more than anything, she wanted to please Wicka.

  Gretel hitched up her skirt and got to her knees between Wicka’s legs. She slid a finger up and down separating Wicka’s cleft. The whole time she monitored Wicka’s reaction. Did Wicka like it? Did she love it?

  Wicka smiled right back as if waiting for more.

  So Gretel kissed her clit. Wicka stroked Gretel’s hair. Their breaths worked together.

  In.

  Out.

  In.

  Out.

  Gretel licked her clit once. Tart. She licked again. Harder this time. There was the moan from Wicka’
s lips that Gretel was waiting for.

  Gretel pushed a finger in. The inside of Wicka’s pussy felt the same as her own. Tasting it, however. That was a different story. She had never tasted a pussy directly. She had only tasted her own on her fingers.

  Wicka whispered something to Hansel. She wasn’t sure what.

  Gretel pushed two fingers in. Then three. She lapped at the sides of Wicka’s folds, drinking her in, noticing the direct response from each lick and thrust with each gasp and moan. That look of bliss on Wicka’s face snipped away any threads of jealousy inside Gretel’s heart. Wicka was responding to Gretel’s touch. Her fingers, her licks, her thrusts.

  It didn’t take long for Wicka’s climax to come. She pressed Gretel’s head against her pussy and cried out.

  Wicka’s legs danced with spasms.

  When her shaking subsided, Wicka brought Gretel up to lie on top of her as Hansel stood up.

  Gretel knew what Wicka wanted. This was the after-orgasm cuddling so precious to every lover. Gretel held her, felt Wicka’s arms wrap around her in a loving embrace. Wicka’s skin was warm. Soft.

  Gretel heard the sound of Hansel doing something behind her. Was he undressing himself?

  “What did you whisper to Hansel earlier?”

  “I told him that he should be the hunter and use his own gun on the both of us.”

  Gretel noticed her dress being raised above her waist and gasped as the tip of Hansel pushed into her pussy. It was strange, feeling her lover behind her while being held by a woman. Strangely comforting. As though both Hansel and Wicka were taking care of her on this journey to another climax.

  Gretel moaned. He moved back and forth into her. Wicka stroked Gretel’s hair and kissed her.

  Then his cock left her empty.

  Wicka gasped and Gretel realized she was now getting her own share of Hansel’s weapon. Gretel watched with fascination as Wicka’s face contorted and squeezed out tight breaths. So beautiful. So sexy. Gretel put her hands on Wicka’s breasts and clutched down attempting a rhythm equal to Hansel’s thrusts.

  Suddenly, Wicka whimpered a sad sigh. Gretel didn’t know why until she felt Hansel stuff herself again.