CHAPTER 1
...May, 1152 ... The south eastern coast of England.
It was a lovely evening, the air as soft as wine and rich with the fragrance of rosemary
and sage, which grew in thick clumps along the riverbank. The woodcutter, ignoring his
aching muscles, took a moment to savour the aromatic scent, then he left the bundles of
wood he had yet again been unable to sell to the villagers by the front door. With little
enthusiasm, he headed towards his sleeping chamber where he knew his heartless wife waited
to see if he brought home some coins this night.
A smile brushed his weathered face as he passed by the heavy curtain behind which slept
his two beautiful children, Hue Hansel and Gwen Gretty. God had not seen fit to bless him
with much in his life, but his children more than made up for that. He sighed, for he was
very poor. Last year`s crop had been a bad one, and what little profit he`d made had
already gone to pay for the rent of the land he leased from the nobility.
The woodcutter, much to his own despair, realized that night, standing alone in the thick
shadows of the two roomed cottage he`d constructed of mud plastered branches and straw,
that he could no longer, since he still had his taxes to pay, afford to buy sufficient
grub for the whole family.
One night two weeks later in early June, as the deprived woodcutter lay tossing on the
sack of straw which served as his bed, he cried aloud in his grief and anguish.
"Alas! Wife what will become of us? How can I feed my hungry little ones when we have
no grain for the animals, nor food for ourselves?"
"Listen to me, Husband," answered his wife, who had been a grudging stepmother
to his grown children for the last fourteen years. "As it is no longer possible for
us to keep the children, we will take them into the woods with us tomorrow, light a fire
for them, and give each a water skin doused with Nightshade, and then we`ll leave them.
The Nightshade will soothe them into a peaceful sleep, they will not easily find their way
back when they awake, and so we shall be rid of the burden of them. With only two mouths
to feed we should be able to wait this difficult period out until we get a good
harvest."
But the father said, "Nay, Nay! I could not find it in my heart to leave my darlings
to perish."
His wife sat up and pushed her heavy golden curls from her forehead. "At seventeen
and twenty-four a piece, I say that Hansel and Gretty are old enough to stand on their own
two feet, husband."
"The wolves would tear them limb from limb if we set them down alone without weapons
in the woods," the father protested.
The stepmother fixed her jaw and narrowed her eyes. "Don`t be a fool man, Hansel can
take care of himself. He only stays around here, labouring from morning to night in your
unproductive fields because you spend most of your time drunk these days, and he feels
responsible for you."
"Tis a lie you speak, wench. I will hear no more. And as God is my witness, I will
not leave my children to the mercy of whatever beasts roam the woods."
The stepmother`s nipples stiffened beneath her chemise as she pictured Hansel`s, or Hue,
as she preferred to call him, gorgeous body. Standing almost seven foot tall, she doubted
that even a bear could pick a fight with the young man and come away in one piece. Her
pussy pulsed, and wetness drenched her thighs. Closing her eyes she recalled Hansel`s
muscles. They bulged in perfect proportion to his height and weight. Her mouth went dry,
as she imagined what it would feel like to run her fingers over the deep indentation that
divided his pectorals, down the washboard stomach that just begged for a woman`s touch.
To his navel.
And then to his...
"Wife," the woodcutter`s annoyed voice startled her from her crude thoughts.
"Stop daydreaming and listen to me."
Ignoring the needy throb of her body, the stepmother turned narrowed brandy-coloured eyes
on her husband. "Speak Donald, you have my full attention."
"I just can`t do it, I can`t." The father shook his head. "How could I
visit the graves of my dearly beloved wife`s, Hannah Hansel and Harriet Gretty knowing
that I`d abandoned the children we created in this very house?"
The stepmother scowled down into the woodcutter`s weathered face. The foolish man had
always loved his two plain wives more than she who was an unparalleled beauty. Except
maybe for Gwen Gretty, that girl`s youthful beauty looked set to overtake her own aging
looks in but a few short years. Her eyes glided over her husband`s pathetic body. She
still found it impossible that such a man, as narrow of face and hooked nosed as her
husband, could have sired such beautiful children on such comely wives. She quickly
crossed herself, and thanked God that he hadn`t sired any children on her.
"Don`t ask me, Ursula to set my children down in the woods," the woodcutter`s
knobbly hands trembled as he ran them through his brown hair heavily threaded with silver.
"I couldn`t live with myself. The guilt would surely kill me."
Ursula`s eyes turned sly. Knowing how much her husband loved his lazy hounds, she said
casually. "Then although they are naught but bones, I suppose we could eat the
dogs."
His reaction was exactly as she had expected. "We can not eat my poor dogs! I love
my dogs; I would rather starve than harm a single hair on their furry bodies."
"Then," she answered as coldly as a winter`s day, "we must all four die of
hunger."
"Nay, Ursula, I will find a way. It won`t come to that," the woodcutter said
with a determined tilt of his weak chin.
Realizing that her foolish and soft-hearted husband wanted to keep both the children and
the dogs alive, Ursula decided that she needed another plan. Food was always a good way to
sway a man`s decision, but since the larder was stripped bare, that idea was ruled out.
Sex was the second option, and probably the better of the two when it came to getting
results. Hungering for the woodcutter`s son, Hansel, Ursula hadn`t been able to bring
herself to sleep with her husband for the last five months.
She knew that the man was desperate to release himself between her thighs. She`d watched
him, night after night with a certain amount of wicked enjoyment, writhing in agony with
his need, stroking his dribbling erection unawares in his sleep. Her eyes glimmered,
calculating orbs in the shadowed room they shared lit by a single candle made of tallow.
She looked down at the erection poking up against the threadbare sheets; it would be so
... so easy to change his mind, if she were to let him have only a little taste of her
body.
Licking her lips, Ursula looked at her husband`s face. She saw not his soft features, but
the sharp features of his son, Hue Hansel. She saw not the bloodshot brown eyes destroyed
by too much alcohol gazing at her so hungrily, so hopefully, but Hansel`s steely blue eyes
piercing in their intensity. As her hand slipped beneath the sheets and closed around the
wet tip of her husband`s cock, Ursula could almost hear the deep timbre of Hansel`s voice,
smell his fresh breath, feel his strong arms wrap around her and pull her against a
rock-hard chest.
"Husband," she breathed against the trembling man`s lips. "Leave the
children tomorrow in the woods, and I promise thee that I will be a very good girl for
thee."
The woodcutter`s eyes rolled back in his head. He couldn`t help the moan, which gurgled
up from his throat as she stroked his sticky pre-cum across the head of his aching cock
with the warm, smooth pad of her thumb. "I ... I can`t, Ursula."
Not put-off, Ursula increased the pressure, swirling her thumb in even larger circles
across the smooth tip of his cock. "Oh, but you can Husband, t`would be so easy, no
one would ever know."
"I ... I would know, wife." The woodcutter moaned. His erection throbbed
mercilessly; the room seemed to swirl before his eyes.
Ursula decreased her pressure on his cock. The way that the stiff, hot organ was jerking
in her cupped fist, she knew that he was near to releasing his need in her hand. That
would not help her plan to get rid of his children, who ate her out of house and home, if
he were to climax outside of her body. She dropped his cock and, playing for time, buried
her face against his chest. "I would have to bear it too husband. The burden would be
just as great on my heart as yours, but I can`t see another way. Surely, together we can
overcome anything my love." Using her last weapon, Ursula pretended to cry.
"There, there, all will turn out well you`ll see," the woodcutter clumsily
patted her back in a gesture meant to comfort. His balls were throbbing so much they felt
like they were on fire. Why did the foolish woman have to cry, he wondered, when he`d
finally after all these months been close to getting between her thighs?
Ursula decided that this was a war, and wars always called for desperate measures.
Holding her breath, she ran her tongue across her husband`s bony chest, and swiftly before
she could change her mind she took the head of his pimpled cock, with its off-putting
aroma into her mouth. Not for, the first time throughout her married life, Ursula really
wished that he would bathe, at least once in a while.
The woodcutter gasped in surprise at the unexpectedness of feeling his wife`s hot, wet
mouth working back and forth against the head of his arousal. When she gently pulled his
foreskin back with her lips, and flicked her tongue over the sensitive eye of his cock, he
cried out.
It was a heavenly feeling.
It had been so very long since anything other than his cupped hand had stroked him where
he needed to be stroked the most. Leaning his head back against the pillow stuffed with
goose feathers, Donald buried his hands in the wealth of his wife`s golden hair, while she
pushed her mouth down the full five inches of his cock right to the root.
She was beautiful, and although often distant toward him, she was his. She had been since
when a man of six and thirty, he`d won her almost fifteen years ago with a lucky board
game of Merels. The woodcutter felt the warm feeling of pride that the knowledge always
conjured, flutter in his belly. When his wife`s mouth left his cock a second later, his
eyes snapped open, and the contented smile slipped from his face.
"Wench," he barked. "Why have you stopped?"
Again Ursula pretended to sob. "I ... I just can`t be intimate with you Donald, not
when I know we are all going to starve in the coming weeks."
The woodcutter looked down at his cock, bent at the odd angle it always took when
aroused. "I told you, I will think of something."
"But times are hard husband, and I do not see you succeeding," seeing the truth
of this in his suddenly shadowed eyes, Ursula pressed her advantage home. "Why should
we perish, when Hansel and Gretty will come to no harm in the woods? Why isn`t Hansel a
marvellous hunter who can provide easily for himself?"
"Aye. He is and he can." The father agreed, his chest swelling with pride. In
all the land there was no better huntsman than his giant of a son.
"Then," Ursula said, as she cupped his sweaty balls and gently squeezed them.
"What harm can it possibly do to leave the children in the woods, since Hansel will
easily be able to provide for little Gretty? Why only the week before last did he not
bring us a juicy deer for dinner?"
"`Tis, wrong to abandon ones children just because times are hard," the
woodcutter said, but all his attention was focused on his wife`s knowledgeable fingers
that were gently stroking the length of his cock. Her saliva still glistened against his
bronzed skin, flickering like pearls in the candlelight, drawing his eye like a magnet.
"Nay, Donald," Ursula corrected. "`Tis, wrong to let your darling, young
and loving wife starve." She licked his ear, and whispered in a husky bedroom voice.
"I am but nine and twenty, dearest." When she felt him tremble, she lifted up
the hem of her collarless chemise, and slid her pliable, wet pussy along the length of his
cock.
The woodcutter moaned as he felt her so near and yet so far, brush against his need. He
reached out a hand and buried his fingers in her pubic curls. They were one shade darker
than her vibrant golden hair, springy and wet from her woman`s juice.
"Wife," he choked. "God`s, but I need you."
"And I need you husband," Ursula lied, "but first we need to sort out our
little problem." Kneeling over his skinny thighs, she pulled her chemise with an
elegant gesture over her head, then completely naked she straddled him. "My, but `tis
hot in here this night, isn`t it?"
"Aye, `tis that," the woodcutter croaked.
He swallowed hard, unable to tear his eyes away from the bushy triangle at the top of her
legs through which her juicy, pussy lips peeked at him, and her gorgeous breasts. He loved
her breasts; they were so full and firm. Her nipples stood proud, heavy and tight, golden
and ruby at the same time. The woodcutter was suddenly glad that he was lying down, for he
swayed dizzily, as a vivid image of him on his knees, kneeling as if he were praying,
while he sucked reverently on them one after the other, assaulted his mind.
Gods, but he wanted to fuck her. It had been so very long. The woodcutter`s prominent
Adam`s apple bounced as he stroked his hand along the wet tip of his cock.
Ursula, knowing just how excited he was, got off of him. Naked, she went to the small
slit in the wall, which served as a window. She pulled the wooden board away that they
placed over the front to keep the drafts out in winter, knowing that her husband had a
perfect view of her dimpled buttocks.
Her lips curved in a wicked smile, as he pleaded a second later. "Wife, `tis much
cooler now, come back to bed."
Stepping up on the bale of covered straw, she straddled him. Next she threw back her head
so that the silky mass of her hair brushed against his balls and his legs, teasing him.
Ursula cupped her breasts, which she knew to be beautiful. She pinched her nipples, until
they stood out proudly against the golden mounds. "I`m as warm as before, since, `tis
you, husband, who is making me hot."
"`Tis I?" the woodcutter gasped in disbelief, the head of his pre-cum smeared
cock resting against the front of her pubic curls.
"Mmm. Aye, incredibly so," never taking her eyes from his feverish gaze, Ursula
slowly licked her top lip with the tip of her pink tongue. "I want you to fuck me so
badly husband." She leaned forward and pressed her swollen nipples into his mouth.
"I want you to devour my breasts, my pussy, my need. I want you to devour all of me
this instant, Donald. I want you to pleasure me," she had to bite back a mocking
laugh, as she implored, "I want you to pleasure me with your big cock, man."
The woodcutter`s cock, which was thin and less than average sized, jumped against his
matted, brown pubic curls on hearing her zealous words. While he suckled on her breasts
like a slavering babe, he cried, "I want to fuck you so badly, too. Oh, I want it ...
I want it so very much, wife."
Ursula cupped his chin with her long, slender fingers and tilted his face until he was
looking up at her. "You can have me, if you leave the children tomorrow in the
woods."
The woodcutter gasped. "That is blackmail!"
"Nay, husband," she corrected, as the pupils of her dilated eyes narrowed to
small pinpricks of ink. "`Tis merely survival of the fittest."
Aching with need, the woodcutter watched as she rolled off of him. She lay on her back on
the rumpled sheets, with all the grace of the backstreet tavern dancer she`d once been as
a girl. With her golden eyes boring into his, she slowly spread her thighs. Right before
his dazzled eyes, she began to slip her fingers slowly in and out of her pussy. She
brought them up to his lips a moment later and commanded, "lick my desire off. Taste
me and know what you are missing husband." Like a well-trained dog, kneeling, his
cock jutting up from his stomach, the woodcutter eagerly lapped her fingers. He was so
hungry for the taste of a woman, the scent of a woman, after being so long denied; he did
not find his wife`s request in anyway demeaning.
Smiling wickedly, Ursula slapped the side of his face. She pulled her hand away from his
mouth, and before him she held up her thumb. The only finger he hadn`t yet licked clean,
which glistened with her desire beneath the moonlight, which framed the golden curls
hanging around her face so that her hair blazed like a halo. The thoughts in her evil
heart, however, were anything but angelic.
"Remember, I will reward thee well with my body, husband." She waved her thumb
just below his nose, and let the scent of her musky desire penetrate his nostrils.
"You will do as I have asked?"
| 
