The Lazy Cow and the Endless Abyss
It wasn't the cock I’d been longing for—Hansel’s—but this was fine, too. I shoved the hard rod inside, putting my weight into the thrusts. It was a deep, driving penetration, though it lacked a certain variety since it could only move in a straight line. Still, the pleasure was immense. On the other hand, the caresses of a tongue and mouth had the advantage of flexibility; I could purse my lips or open them wide, and my tongue could curve and bend in and out of the folds. With my lips parted and pressed against her slit, I covered her like I was trying to swallow her whole, my tongue sweeping between the labia, pressing against the clitoris, and flicking it repeatedly.
"Ha-geuk♥ Haaaaaah♥ Ugh-ng-ng-ng♥♥♥"
Cling-a-ling♬ Cling♪ Cling-a-ling-a-ling♪
The small bell on her collar chimed with a clear, crystalline sound. It rang out as if celebrating and blessing the melting, ecstatic moans spilling from Gretel’s lips. It had been ringing softly before, but as our movements grew more intense, the sound swelled in volume. The ringing grew louder and louder until, before long, it reached its peak.
"Haaaaaaaaah♥♥♥♥♥♥!!!!!"
Splurt! Splush! Spluuuurt!!
In an instant, Gretel reached her climax, her slit erupting with a flood of love juice that splashed all over my face. It had been quite wet before, but looking at it now, the previous state could have been called a dry desert compared to this torrential downpour.
"Whew. Did that feel good?"
My face was drenched, and I hadn't bothered to wipe it, but I didn't really care. I used the bikini—which I’d pulled aside to expose her slit and anus—as a towel to wipe my face, my hands still lingering on her buttocks, having gripped them so tightly I’d left marks.
"Yes♥ Anything is fine as long as it’s you, Hansel..."
Whether it was showing every shameful part of herself or acting in a way that would be considered a disgrace, Gretel didn't care, as long as it was Hansel watching.
"Then, let's do this for real."
I caught my breath, straightened my hips, and pushed forward. My meat rod, holding more heat than meat sizzling on a hot iron plate, nudged against Gretel’s buttocks—right through the black-and-white spotted bikini that hadn't been fully removed.
Trying to align my cock with her slit using only my hips without using my hands led to a few misses. Eventually, I decided to use my hands. I gripped her buttocks with my left hand to hold her steady and guided my cock with my right.
"Aaaaaah♥ ♥"
My hand, clutching my cock, moved up and down, invading the hole that had been sufficiently loosened. The glans brushed against her clitoris, rubbing up and down, grinding against the urethral opening until, at a certain point, my cock was sucked right in. My meat rod, filled with boiling blood, pushed through the narrow, sticky hole.
"Haa, this feels so good."
It was a phrase that perfectly summarized our current state, though it was unclear who had actually said it. Surrendering everything to the pleasure, Hansel and Gretel moved their hips in sync, following their instincts. Deeper, harder.
When I pulled back just before fully exiting, Gretel moved her hips forward to help the cock slide back in easily. When I pushed in as deep as I could, she moved her hips back to receive me to the hilt. Her vaginal walls tightened around my cock, the pressure and constriction instantly converting into pleasure that swallowed me whole, and then, in turn, swallowed Gretel.
The breathing of beast and human grew ragged.
Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!
The sound of testicles and labia colliding echoed violently. The cling-a-ling of the bell grew faster, keeping time with the sound of skin hitting skin. The balls swung, and the bell chimed.
"Ha-eu♥ Oh-ok♥ Ho-ooo-ook♥♥♥"
It was a moan like a patient having a seizure, but it contained no pain—only joy and pleasure. Instead of a plea for someone to heal this aching body, it was a boast, a declaration of how happy and good we felt. With flushed cheeks, we both lay there, mouths agape, panting. Reason had evaporated in the face of such pleasure; there was only ecstasy, nothing but ecstasy.
All the things we were supposed to do—helping Gretel bathe, milking a few more pails, helping Mother and Father with the field work, catching rats—all of it was forgotten. In his laziness, Hansel focused only on milking a little and then playing with Gretel. We didn't even notice we were throwing money away. If our parents had seen us, they would have smacked our backs, asking what the hell we were doing.
The udders, which hadn't been milked earlier, were swollen to the point of bursting, and milk began to leak out even without Hansel touching them.
Drip. Drip-drip. Stream. Streeeeam.
Gretel’s milk, ripened with affection and love, was incomparable to ordinary milk. It went down smooth, and even those who usually got stomach aches from milk could drink it without issue—it even alleviated symptoms and had a sweet taste. It was, quite literally, the highest grade of quality. To think we were just wasting such expensive, precious stuff on the floor—what a waste.
How much money were we throwing away on the floor? Irresponsibly, Hansel and Gretel just kept grinding their hips.
Squelch. Squelch. Squelch. Squelch.
The sound of my lower belly colliding with her buttocks, the sticky love juice sticking and pulling apart, echoed through the room. Tiny droplets flew everywhere, and as they landed, they merged, growing from the size of a needle prick to the size of heavy raindrops. My uterus and glans continued to collide, and milk erupted and scattered from her agitated breasts. It even splashed onto the full milk pails set aside and the empty ones waiting to be filled.
And finally, the moment of climax arrived.
My testicles slammed against her labia with a sound loud enough to make a bystander wince, and my cock drove deep into her womb. Trembling, I didn't pull out; instead, I bent my waist, shoved my tongue into Gretel’s ear, and rubbed and ground it against her. The sound of our wailing, echoing through the narrow ear canal, mixed with the slurp-slurp sounds, and with the sensation of my body floating away, my vision turned pure white.
"H-g-g-g-k♥♥♥♥♥"
The white that painted over everything—the scene before my eyes, the inside of my brain—was the white of the semen I had ejaculated. Thicker than the milk we’d squeezed earlier, and hotter than our own flushed body temperatures, the semen was poured deep into Gretel’s belly. It was so hot it felt as if someone had stuck a funnel in and poured boiling water, but there was no pain, no screaming. Replacing the terrible pain was a whirlwind of ecstasy; replacing the shrieking screams were moans of joy.
After the echoes of those massive moans faded, the pleasure that had raged like a typhoon calmed, leaving behind a lingering, tranquil afterglow in the silence. The afterglow of the climax ended with a kiss; I stopped licking her ear, turned my head toward Gretel, who had hers pressed against my cheek, and pressed our lips together.
"Aaaaaaah♥"
Drip-drip-drip.
The hole from which I had withdrawn my cock remained dilated, relaxing and contracting, spilling out a mess of sticky semen. She had swallowed as much as her womb could hold, but unable to take more, the rest spilled out in a waste. The floor was soaked with semen and all sorts of bodily fluids. If a house with a hole-ridden roof leaked during a rainstorm, it would probably look like this. The only difference was that the smell wasn't the fishy scent of rainwater, but the intoxicating aroma of flesh that fueled the fires of lust.
Anyway, if it leaks, you have to clean it. This place—too luxurious, flashy, and tidy to be called Gretel’s barn—was no different.
"Eeeek."
Slurp. Slurp-slurp. Schlick.
Hansel began the cleaning. Driven by the laziness of not wanting to fetch a mop or towel, I licked the floor with my tongue. Whether it was mine or Gretel’s, I didn't discriminate. Thick, thin, it didn't matter. Warm, cold, it didn't matter.
"Heeeeeek."
Slurp. Slurp. Slurp-slurp. Slurp.
Gretel followed suit. Salty, fishy, bitter, then a subtle sweetness—she tasted it all through her tongue. The act of "licking the floor clean," usually reserved for humiliating or insulting someone, was being performed voluntarily by a beast and a human. As if possessed by the ghosts of ants frantically sucking up spilled syrup, we licked the floor with all our might, tasting each other’s fluids.
Diligence is usually considered the opposite of laziness, but diligence that is meaningless and inefficient is, in the end, synonymous with laziness. If we had just brought a mop, we could have finished it, but by licking it with our tongues, we spent several times the effort and time for bottom-tier efficiency. Even after working so hard, there was still so much left—it would have been better to just lounge around. If we just lounged, at least we wouldn't be exhausting ourselves.
In the end, the act of diligently consuming time is worse than ordinary laziness. But Hansel and Gretel were both perfectly content, obsessed with licking the floor. Believing that as they sucked up the semen, love juice, sweat, and urine-mixed fluids, they were consuming the true affection mixed within, for them, this too was a beautiful act of sharing love.
Finally, after licking and sucking up everything, we locked eyes while trying to lick the last remaining drop. Our faces flushed red once more, and without a word, we rose and pressed our lips together. It was a peaceful daily life, without fights or injuries. In the most comfortable bed, where anyone would fall asleep the moment they laid their head down. In the happy, joyful dream we always wanted to continue. A peaceful life. Without waking, forever. Abandoning reality. Deeper, further down. Into the bottomless bottom.