Hansel and Gretel With the Sexual Hunter (4 page)

His white fluid dripped from the sides of her lips down
his length as he continued firing, shooting his load down her throat. Every
time she swallowed, the back of her throat clamped on his tip and he came some
more.

She kept right on sucking him. He felt the suction of
her mouth as she lapped up the escaping seed.

The room spun. He felt dizzy from exhaustion.

Best—blow job—ever.

***

Gretel swallowed her lover’s musky cum. She wanted to
ask Hansel how he liked her skill. She wanted to ask the woman who called
herself Wicka if she enjoyed the show. As soon as Wicka had commanded her to
suck him off, she knew Wicka was just part of some sex fantasy outfit. And if
Wicka was someone Hansel hired for a special sex fantasy, he sure went all out.
She seemed like a high-end escort, but an unnecessary expense just to have
Gretel give him a blow job. What was with the kidnapping and dressing up? Was
that some sort of perk in a special kink package deal? And that whole “your
parents hired me to kill you both” thing? Not sexy at all. Still, Gretel couldn’t
deny the thrill she got from having an audience.

She felt her chair being lifted back to its upright
position.

The escort ran a hand through Gretel’s hair. “You look
so sexy right now. The way your hair is disheveled.”

Gretel let herself enjoy the smooth caress.

“The cum on your chin,” Wicka used a fingertip to lift
off a drop of cum.

When Wicka sucked on that fingertip, Gretel felt a
tingling between her thighs. Wicka touched another part of Gretel’s chin and
held the shiny finger to Gretel’s lips. There was more than one way to perform
for Wicka. Gretel licked the fingertip, closed her eyes, and took Wicka’s full
finger into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Wicka squeezing one
of her own breasts. Wicka removed her finger from Gretel’s mouth.

“You look so sexy with your blouse open,” she trailed the
wet finger down Gretel’s neck and sternum, to that point where the bra
connected the two cups together. Wicka’s breathing got heavier as she traced
upwards along the lacy edge of the bra, then slipped her finger inside,
brushing against Gretel’s nipple.

Gretel felt her bud harden. Should she play along with
Hansel’s game and pretend to want to please Wicka? Should she pretend she was
working to gain Wicka’s trust to convince the woman to loosen their bonds? Why
not?

Gretel kept her face down and looked up at Wicka to
look as sexy and seductive as possible. Wicka seemed to be losing control of
her arousal. Though to be fair, so was Gretel. This woman was one of the most
sensual women she had ever seen. And those long locks of red hair looked
absolutely stunning.

Wicka suddenly turned. “You like what you see, Hansel?”

Hansel just nodded.

“Has this been a fantasy of yours, Hansel? To see your
fiancée with another woman?”

Hansel just nodded.

Gretel couldn’t believe it. Was that why he had asked
if she had been with another woman? Because it turned him on? Not because he
was gay and needed to admit he’s been with other men?

Gretel couldn’t believe she had completely
misunderstood his intentions. He wanted to see her with another woman. Of
course! That’s why he hired this woman. If that’s what Hansel wanted, then doing
a show for him could be fun. Sex with Wicka wouldn’t be an actual chore,
though. This woman knew how to touch Gretel in all the right spots. Wicka cupped
Gretel’s entire breast in her hand inside the bra and kissed her.

For you,
Gretel imagined speaking to Hansel.
Only
for you.

Wicka’s kiss was deliciously soft. The sensation of her
lips combined with knowing Hansel was watching heated her body. Her panties
were getting soaked. Those lips were so good.

Wicka broke the kiss. “What about you, Gretel? What do
you like?”

If the goal in Hansel’s game was to convince Wicka to
set them free, what were the possibilities? What was the best sexual request
she could make that would require Wicka to at least loosen their bonds?

“I like it when he kneads my ass like cookie dough.”

That should do it, Gretel thought. The only way to
expose Gretel’s ass would be to untie her from the chair. And the only way to
get Hansel to do some kneading would be to untie his hands.

“Alright. Let’s be a little creative.”

Good news, Gretel thought. Wicka was taking off the
binds on Hansel’s wrists.

Wicka told him, “Since Gretel’s ass is busy sitting in
a chair, we’ll use mine.”

Bad news, Gretel thought. Something was wrong about how
this was playing out.

Wicka dragged Gretel’s chair a few feet away from Hansel’s,
but they still faced each other.

“And to give you incentive, Hansel, the better you are
at servicing my ass, the more I’ll take care of your fiancée.”

Gretel felt astonished. This game was going too far.

Wicka got on her hands and knees, tucked her calves
under Hansel’s chair, and looked over her shoulder at Hansel. “Start kneading.”

“Now hold on a second,” Gretel said. “Is this really
part of your sex fantasy, Hansel?”

“What?” Hansel looked confused.

Wicka laughed. She slapped a hand on Gretel’s thigh. “You
thought Hansel hired me to fulfill a sex fantasy? I suppose you’re not too far
off. I
am
here to fulfill sex
fantasies. It’s probably best if you just focus on that.”

Gretel felt her heart grow cold. Hansel didn’t hire
her? She really was an assassin? Gretel’s mind raced. What were they going to
do? Wicka was going to kill them both? Was there a chance she wouldn’t? She had
said,
If you cooperate with me, I’ll let
you go
. Gretel wanted to believe that. Those words could be the very thread
between life and death. Gretel also remembered Hansel’s words.
If we gain her trust, she might free our
limbs.
Okay. That was the plan.

Hansel looked at Gretel. He gave her a “You okay?”
look.

Gretel nodded. Time to focus on what was about to
happen. Soon she would have lesbian sex with a hunter, while watching her fiancé
use his skills on another woman’s ass.

Hansel placed his hands just above Wicka’s rear. He
gave Gretel another look. This one seemed to say, “Can I touch and squeeze and
fondle this woman’s gorgeous butt?”

But that wasn’t what he was saying. He was saying that
at least now that he had his hands free, a little more and she might free his
legs, too. “Do we go ahead with that plan?” his look was really saying.

Gretel nodded.

Hansel touched Wicka’s ass with what looked like polite
touches. At least he didn’t seem to be enjoying it.

Wicka raised Gretel’s skirt and made some mechanical
jabs with her finger against Gretel’s underwear. It wasn’t stimulating at all.

“This is your show, Hansel. You’re in charge,” Wicka
said. “You handle my ass properly, Gretel’s sweet pussy will get a proper
tongue-lashing. You touch my ass like you’re fluffing up a goddamned pillow, Gretel’s
going to feel like I’m a fucking tampon, and we can forget the whole thing and
get down to my clients’ business. If you want to live, do it right. Think of me
as a living, breathing vibrator you get to use on your girl.”

Gretel raised her brows, and nodded to Hansel. She gave
him her best “Do it, already” look.

She saw Hansel clenching his fingers into Wicka’s butt.
He couldn’t be seeing much because Wicka had her catsuit on. Still, Gretel bet
the cat suit left little to the imagination. He could probably see her cleft
outlined, maybe with a patch of dampness in between.

She felt the woman hook her wet panties with a finger
and the hunter’s tongue licked up her cleft. Gretel’s eyes widened. How long
had it been since she felt a tongue down there? Hansel never did it. And in the
past, she had been so busy focusing on giving great head that it was rare the
guy still wanted to go down on her after coming down her throat.

Wicka kept licking up along her folds, lapping it like
ice cream. Gretel clenched her fists. She could feel her pussy twitch.

Hansel kept his eyes on Gretel, and she could sense his
arousal stirring from the way he watched her own reactions to Wicka’s tongue.
His voyeurism made her heart race.
You
like this, Hansel? You like what you’re seeing?

Then a finger found its way inside of her. Gretel grit
her teeth together. Wicka flicked her tongue against the clit and that finger
of hers scooped around inside Gretel’s channel.

Gretel kept her eyes on Hansel. Was this turning him
on? Was he loving this? He sure seemed to be. She bit her lip.

Gretel found herself thrusting her waist forward,
grinding against that tongue, wanting more of that finger.

The finger became two, ramming hard inside her, revving
up her engine.

Wicka moaned against her pussy. Perhaps she now felt
the power of Hansel’s strong hands. Gretel clenched her pussy as the woman’s
fingers darted more quickly through her.

An orgasm was on its way. Gretel humped the hunter’s
fingers, waves of pleasure washed across her legs, her arms, her breasts, her
neck, her toes. Wicka sucked hard on her folds and her clit. Gretel cried out
feeling the sensation of the woman’s tongue licking up the juices that spilled
onto the very fingers her pussy clamped down upon.

Wicka looked up from between Gretel’s legs. Her mouth
and chin were shiny with her juices. “Your pussy is delicious.”

Wicka spun around and said to Hansel, “Have a taste.”

She tried to kiss him, but Hansel turned away.

“Devoted boyfriend, huh? Here, then.” She wiped Gretel’s
juices off her chin with a finger and held it out to his lips.

Hansel still pulled away.

“It’s just a finger,” the assassin said. “It’s not like
you’re cheating on her, right?”

He didn’t budge.

“Or is it something else?” Wicka asked. She turned to Gretel.
“Has he ever eaten you out before?”

Gretel shook her head.

“Well that’s the next order of business, then.”

Gretel was hopeful. Either Wicka was going to release Gretel
so that Gretel could sit on Hansel’s face, or Wicka was going to release Hansel
so that he could easily move between her legs. Either way, one of them would be
completely free from the chair and could try and stop the woman.

“Hansel, you like sweets, don’t you?” Wicka went to a
black duffel bag she must have brought in while they were unconscious. “I mean,
you make them every day, so you must. So here’s what we’ll do.”

Wicka pulled out a hammer and twirled it in a circle as
she approached Gretel. Gretel felt her heart flutter with fear. Images of being
struck in the head flashed before her.

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.