Free Hansel and Gretel With the Sexual Hunter by Liz Adams

 
 
    Hansel unbuttoned his shirt and took it off.
    He sat down on his bed to remove his shoes and socks.
Tonight was going to be another great night with his beloved fiancée. How did
he get to be so lucky? It had been so hard making it in the candy store
business, it was amazing how as soon as he took Gretel’s advice when he first
dated her, the business began booming. She was so savvy with marketing
strategies, it was amazing.
    Hansel stood up and unbuckled his pants.
    Gretel’s business smarts probably came from her family
legacy. The Kaplans were as rich and influential as the Rothschilds. And just
as Jewish, which is why his parents, proud of their Aryan purity, didn’t like “that
Jew” he was dating. What they didn’t know was “that Jew” took more interest in
encouraging his love of crafting creative confections than his parents ever
did. And her body? She’d give Hitler a hard-on.
    And soon he would get to hear her, see her, caress her,
sleep with her, and wake up with her for the rest of his life.
    Hansel pulled off his pants and underwear. Ever since
the fan in the bathroom broke, he’s had to leave the door open so that the
steam wouldn’t over-humidify the bathroom walls. That was okay. As long as Gretel
wasn’t in the apartment, he was still free to perform his shower activities in
private, even with the door open.
    He turned on the shower, tested the water. Once it was
hot enough, he stepped inside.
    The water washed clean his sweaty day in the kitchen.
With the bar of soap in his hand, he coated every part of his body with suds.
His shoulders, his chest, his back – as much as he could reach of it
– his butt, his thighs, his calves, his feet.
    The soap bubbled and lathered across his body. He
washed it away, feeling cleaner and better. The steam rose to his face,
surrounding him, caressing him, like Gretel’s sweet warm breath. Mmm. The
memory of her heat felt good.
    The shampoo was a high-class brand, a gift from Gretel
that smelled like mint and tea. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent. It
reminded him of the night before, having tea with Gretel. She had incredible
ideas on how to get others talking about his business. He hadn’t caught them
all because he was distracted by the cleavage of her pert breasts revealed from
her dark blue halter top. A part of him heard her idea about spreading the news
of store discounts in local social media groups, another part of him wanted to
suck her nipples until she was moaning for him to stuff himself into her. Next
time, he had better take notes on what she was saying.
    He closed his eyes and put his head under the water, the
hot spray kissed his face. With just a small step backwards, he imagined that
hot kiss was Gretel’s against his neck. She moved further down, to his pecs,
tonguing them hot and wet. She followed that trail along his abs. Hot. So hot.
Another step back and the water’s spray hit home.
    He lathered his hands thick with the bar of soap,
thinking of those luscious lips of Gretel’s. What he wouldn’t give to have them
wrap around his cock like tasting a popsicle. She even seemed to be willing.
Well, willing to give him a blow job. Not so willing to eat a popsicle.
    He could never let her do it, though. As it happened
with all his previous relationships, whenever he got a girlfriend to give him a
blow job, she always asked for him to return the favor. And that was one thing
he could never do. It seemed so humiliating. He’d seen plenty of porno films and
whenever the guy went between the woman’s legs, it was like the guy became a
wimp bowing down to the woman and losing all self-respect.
    And if eating out Gretel was too humiliating an act for
him to do, he shouldn’t expect to get head from her. Even if she says she wants
to, because that was just code for saying, “Go down on me.”
    Still, no harm in dreaming. Hansel gripped his cock
with one well-lathered hand and slid up and down its length. That sensation