The winter in the mountains had been harsh that year.
Greta still clung to the belief that everything would work out if they just remained patient and let the winds of fate decide their future. Hans scoffed at the idea just like he had rejected the inclination to trust the dreaded witch. He loved his adopted sister more than life itself but sometimes she was so irritatingly “good” that he left her to her cleaning in the tiny hut and he visited the Gypsy girls in the nearby camp next to the fast-running river that flowed from the higher peaks even in the coldest weather.
Hans accepted the fact that the girls in the Gypsy camp were usually dirty in stark contrast to the impeccable Greta, but sometimes a lot could be said for dirty and he just washed off their faces before getting up close and personal. The Gypsies were not a bad lot and, in fact, had often helped Hans and his sister when their own situation turned ugly. Like the time the black dressed soldiers from the lowlands had invaded the forest and made him watch as they took indecent liberties with his naïve sister almost to the point of violating her secret garden hidden at all times except when getting into or out of the bath. Fortunately, the Gypsy girls had descended upon them and mollified the soldiers with their suggestive dancing and enticing ways. They certainly had saved his precious Greta’s virginity on that occasion. She objected no longer when Hans became desperate for the kind of closeness between men and women easily found at the Gypsy camp. His manly needs were such that he could not enter into such activities with his sister Greta in the privacy of their little hut like true lovers and not siblings from the same family. He had no doubt that such coupling was not without sin and would certainly result in guilty thoughts that would plague his conscience with everlasting annoyance.
Greta dusted in all the dark corners and now that her brother was gone to his pleasures in the Gypsy camp she took off all her layers of clothing except for her white cotton undies and her thin ribbons of soft fabric to hold her generous breasts in tightly. She did not want them to swing with each step she took no matter how tiny or measured. It was a way to keep her poor brother Hans from focusing on her femininity and assuaged her guilt at being so terribly beautiful and shapely of figure. She hoped he would find his release with the Gypsy girls and she wondered if he would be satisfied with just one or would sample a variety of them to compare their favors. The depraved thought made her blush and she allowed her free hand to wander down to her white undies to check the condition of her feminine folds. Just as she suspected, her slit was already damp with anticipation and she knew that if her brother had not found other sources of pleasure, she would have buried her head in the pillow and pretended to be a Gypsy for him and whatever needs that might arise in the heat of the moment.
Hans could not believe his good fortune.
The dark-haired Lenochka was surrounding his manhood with her juice-laden mouth and flicked her devilishly skilled tongue in places he knew needed female attention of the king he could never possibly ask his beloved adopted sister to give him even with the lights off and the shielding covers on top of their writhing bodies. He was unable to tell the impossibly double-jointed Gypsy girl how wonderful her efforts felt to his sex-deprived man parts because her sister Natasha was sitting astride his face with her thick bush of curly hair tickling his lips and forcing him to open his mouth and enter her with his naughty tongue in a scouting trip to find her special places of important sensitivity. Once he had discovered her female trigger points, he would give her a “ride” that she would retain a memory of for a very long time. Her sister Lenochka was already past the point of no return with his greedy shaft and he realized he would have to flood her throat with his seed sooner rather than later in a way that would drain him of his power to recover for at least an hour of delicious respite in the arms of two nubile attractive females with no limit of kinky inclinations.
His throbbing member was still in Lenochka’s submissive mouth when the smiling Natasha groaned long and loudly. He felt the spray of her release on his face like a waterfall from a great height. It pelted his closed eyes, his nose and his lips with her female essence. It was the pervasive cloying scent that he loved so much to taste and inhale at just such times when his needs were overwhelming. They all rested in each other’s arms and he made acquaintance of their surprisingly pristine rear entries with his long middle fingers at exactly the same moment and watched the different expressions on their lovely faces when they knew he was truly in command of their nether regions. Lenochka was submissive in her acceptance of his dominance but Natasha was like a chained tiger fighting against the final inch of entry with flashing eyes and bared teeth that promised retribution for the loss of dignity. He knew deep in his soul that he was content with Lenochka’s reaction but that he simply had to get Natasha face down on the cushions and show her how exciting the real thing could be in her alternate entryway of love.
Strangely, Hans felt his thoughts returning to his Greta each time he entered one of the Gypsy girls and he stopped his feeble attempts to remove her face and the image of her delectable body from his mind as he worked hard to give the Gypsy girls the full intensity of his powerful weapon of lust. He whispered the name “Greta” under his breath each time he spurted into the pretty girls submitting to his will with obvious delight. He hoped neither of them could hear his almost silent word at that moment of truth.
.... There is more of this story ...