Where Does the Heart Reside? (2)
Those carrying wanted posters, those passing by whilst holding the leashes of hunting dogs, and the guards marching in perfect unison.
They are all as good as blind.
If only they would veer slightly off course, they could find the moving treasure hunt prize featured on the wanted poster, hidden there, yet no one does so.
No one sees or finds the two people moving their bodies ever so slightly whilst clinging to each other so tightly that their breaths mingle.
“Haven’t they already fled from Bremen, those bastards?”
“Maybe, but let’s keep looking.”
“To run off after leaving the city in this state—what a bunch of mad bastards!”
If they turned around and took just a few steps in that direction, they’d find those ‘mad bastards’.
Hansel, moving his hips with his cock out, wedged between Gretel’s pussy and thighs.
And Gretel, squeezing him with the pressure of her thighs whilst rubbing his cock, wedged between her legs, with her wet knickers.
It’s so thrilling and exhilarating that, even though they could find them if they just paid a little more attention, no one is.
It feels like being naked and exposing oneself in broad daylight in a busy street.
In a space enclosed by glass windows—where one can see out but others cannot see in—the siblings openly engage in smarta, revelling in the feeling of mocking the countless passers-by who walk by, oblivious to what is happening right there in the nude.
Since the risk of getting caught is far too great if they go all the way, mutual masturbation—which they can enjoy whilst clinging tightly to each other—is a perfectly acceptable choice.
Gretel’s damp knickers are wedged between her inner labia and the veins bulging from his cock, squeezing out her juices which drip onto his shaft.
Starting from the glans, it soaks the corona at the base and the folds of the retracted foreskin before beginning to run down the shaft; as the cock thrusts back and forth, it gradually softens the area from the pussy, through the perineum, and down to the crease of the buttocks.
What had been merely moistening the cock now overflows, soaking her thighs, and becomes so smooth it glides like a well-oiled machine part.
Instead of the smell of oil, a sensual scent begins to waft through the air.
"Ahh♥ Hansel’s cock♥ I love it passing through my pussy... especially when the thick part of the glans goes through.... Hmmph♥"
Thanks to the love juices Gretel is leaking with her moans, and the pre-cum Hansel is gradually adding, the coefficient of friction between her thighs and her pussy—where his cock is thrusting back and forth—converges to zero.
A new discovery that overturns the laws of physics, where the speed doesn’t slow down the more it passes through, but actually increases.
‘I love Gretel’s thighs♥ There are firm muscles beneath that soft skin, so they grip me tight...’
Although it’s not quite the same as being inside her pussy, the thigh muscles that wrap around and squeeze the cock in place of the vaginal walls provide a unique kind of stimulation.
Unlike a pussy that tightens around the cock as it enters, here the cock has to push aside the thigh flesh and muscle, so it feels a bit stiff. There’s also the drawback that, unlike a pussy which greases itself with its own fluids to welcome the cock, you have to use fluids from elsewhere—but even that isn’t bad.
It is distinctly different from the fleshy walls and vaginal folds inside a pussy, which automatically wrap around and cling to the cock with a sticky grip.
Gretel presses down firmly with her thighs to squeeze out the semen, rubbing the cock evenly through the scrap of fabric covering her pussy and pressing it with her pussy flesh.
The shaft of his cock traverses the cleft of her pussy, and in time with Gretel’s movements, it bounces against her clitoris through her knickers.
As Gretel’s knickers became soaked and the love juice trickling down her thighs began to reach her calves and the feet inside her boots,
Gretel released the two hands she had wrapped around Hansel’s waist and brought them under her skirt.
“This is nice, but it’s better when we touch each other directly, isn’t it?”
“Of course.”
The flames of lust, fuelled by the thrill and precariousness of walking a tightrope—where the slightest slip would mean discovery—blaze fiercely.
If they had sex right here, they would be caught.
Hansel has no confidence he can hold back a moan when his cock slips into Gretel’s flushed pussy and she clamps down on him.
Gretel has no confidence she can suppress the sound that will burst from her mouth when Hansel’s hot pillar pierces her.
In the end, a precarious compromise between reason and lust.
They decided to go straight for the main event, right there on Gretel’s pussy with her knickers down.
And even though Gretel’s knickers were soaked through, not a single dry spot remained, they hadn’t been pulled down completely.
Her knickers were perched right at the point where the curve of her thigh begins to rise, positioned exactly where his cock would brush against her labia as it slid between them.
“Hmmph♥ This is definitely better than teasing me…♥ Direct contact…♥ Do it faster, pleaseee♥”
Touching her body through her clothes is stimulating, but it feels even better to remove the irritating barrier and rub and caress her bare skin and sensitive spots directly.
Their lovemaking had long since surpassed the stage of engaging in wholesome physical contact and displays of affection that could be done even in public, by pushing the boundaries of what was permissible through clothing when there were many onlookers.
Amidst all this, amongst the charges listed on the wanted poster—accusing them of crimes they hadn’t even committed—the charge of public indecency became a truth without a single false note.
“Hey, didn’t you hear that?”
Whether it was because his hearing was sharp, or because he had raised his voice too much in the throes of pleasure.
One of the passers-by a few paces away suddenly stopped and looked around.
The emerald and sapphire-coloured eyes that had been locked upon each other widened in surprise.
They were not properly armed.
They were people steeped in poverty, clad in shabby, torn rags, stained here and there with grime and grease, with unkempt beards and hair in disarray, showing no sign of having been groomed.
A foul, indescribable stench—a mixture of the stench of their unwashed bodies, the smell of alcohol, and the reek of grease—wafts over them, making both Hansel and Gretel feel a wave of nausea rise from their stomachs.
“Do you think you’re some sort of hunter? Cut the nonsense and let’s go somewhere else. I don’t think it’s here.”
“What kind of mad bastards would hide in a place like this, where people pass by quite often, rather than some remote, secluded spot?”
It was a valid point.
“Hmm… I heard a strange sound…”
But the problem was that this valid point was wrong, and the thug who was just pretending to be a hunter had actually been right.
“Ugh...”
The stench persisted. It was so foul that it momentarily overpowered the body odour and the strange, sticky scent that Hansel and Gretel had been savouring.
It was a stench so foul that even the two of them—who could laugh and chat whilst having the innards of animals dissected, the stench of half-digested food mixed with gastric juices, the smell of blood, and the odour of bile splashing onto their cheeks and spurting onto their faces—found it unbearable.
It made one wonder just what on earth a person could do to produce such a stench, yet the stench was so overwhelming that it made one’s mind go hazy, to the point where one wanted to bolt—forget rest, concealment, or any other pretence.
Just a couple of steps away, at a distance where a single deep breath would send the exhaled air straight to Hansel and Gretel.
Hansel simply couldn’t bear it any longer and pressed his lips against Gretel’s.
“Mmm♥ Umm♥♥”
It was an unannounced kiss, but Gretel accepted it.
Instead of a fierce kiss where they devoured each other’s lips, their tongues licked and tangled within the connected spaces of their mouths.
It was a choice to mask that dizzying stench with a kiss.
And then.
Below, Hansel moved his hips slowly, very gently.
‘Mmm♥’
A pace reminiscent of a snail. Not full-blown foreplay or stimulation, but a teasing that borders on the excessive.
Yet, thanks to the precarious situation—on the brink of being caught—it burns as fiercely as if dry wind were being fanned over a fire with oil.
If he’d felt the sensation of his cock sliding into her pussy under normal circumstances, it would have been far too mild, but the current situation has amplified the sensation many times over.
We’re doing this in secret, hiding away. It’s not quite sex, but we’ve got our cocks and pussies out.
It’s not even a secluded spot where no one ever comes, nor is it a place where people are few and far between.
If those people passing by were to veer off course just a little, they could come right up against us. They might even hear the sounds.
It’s nerve-wracking, thrilling—I’m worried that the bloke giving off that disgusting stench might come closer and drown out Hansel’s scent with his foul odour.
We’d have to stay still to avoid being caught, but I don’t want to. Hansel feels the same, doesn’t he?
Seeing him move his cock like this, rather than just holding me tight and kissing me, it’s clear Hansel must be in seventh heaven right now.
Then I’ll...
Just as saliva—whose it was, I couldn’t tell—began to flow between our pressed lips, Gretel moved her left hand.
That left hand was heading for Hansel’s chest. Specifically, his left breast.
She ran her fingers over it to locate the nipple, then clamped it between her index and middle fingers, gently pinching and twisting it.
“Ugh...”
Hansel’s stifled moan echoed between their mouths.
“Did I hear wrong...?”
Just as Gretel was pinching Hansel’s chest, the vagrant who had been loitering nearby grumbled and turned away.
A torrent of emotions—relief at not having been caught, the shame they would have felt had they been, and scorn for the blind fools who remained oblivious even with their cocks and pussies rubbing right before their eyes—surged through their spines and nerves.
‘Huuu♥♥♥♥♥’
The siblings’ moans intertwined, blending so completely that it was impossible to tell who was making the louder sound, or who had started first.
Hansel’s climax came at the same moment.
Into Gretel’s wet knickers, into the narrow space between her legs beneath her skirt, which was steaming with sweat and love juices, and into the folds of her dripping pussy.
As the white fluid gushed out, the scent of night-blooming flowers began to waft, washing away the foul odour.
“Phew....”
Just as the foul odour was being washed away and they were about to be intoxicated by the heady scent of night-blooming flowers, the two lips—which seemed as though they would remain pressed together forever—parted.
“We’ve had a good rest, and it’s getting dark, so shall we go somewhere else?”
“Yeah.”
After taking off their cum-stained knickers and wiping away the residue from their thighs and legs, the two of them left the spot.
The only trace left behind was a single pair of Gretel’s knickers, emitting a variety of suggestive scents, including the scent of night-blooming flowers, as they grew cold.
No one saw them and thought anything of it.
They simply brushed it off as some poor girl who’d fallen into the wrong hands of a bunch of tramps in some back alley; no one cared about the origin of those knickers, merely frowning as they walked past.
No one ever imagined that this was the trace and clue left behind by a living, breathing get-rich-quick scheme—the treasure from a treasure hunt.
“Bloody hell!”
“How? Why on earth?”
Except for the two who had watched it all and were now seething with rage.