REVIEW: The Gingerbread Tryst by Nichelle Gregory
This isn’t really a review so much as book summary so spoilers ahoy.
Dear Ms. Gregory:
When I saw Karen Scott post about this book, I thought it was a joke. Surely no one was writing Gingerbread man porn, right? Right? Because what is the point of taking a Mother Goose nursery rhyme and pornogriphying it (made up word, I know)? What’s next? The menage a quatre with the three blind mice? I’ve really always wondered what happened when the Dish ran away with the Spoon…
Marisa is a lonely suburban housewife. She has three main pleasures: masturbation, baking and magic. Her husband Don is a good provider, but he’s often gone away on business and while some nights he can pleasure her until dawn other nights he’s tired. Don always brings her to orgasm, but he doesn’t do it enough. Marisa needs to get off once a day:
On good nights they’d make love for hours and on the nights he fell asleep too tired to have sex, Marisa would sulk. She wanted to make love all the time and her day wasn’t complete unless she had achieved an orgasm.
Marisa has a tough life. She has enough discretionary money to buy whatever she likes. She doesn’t work. Instead she spends most of her day masturbating:
Marisa considered masturbation an art form. She could spend hours playing with her pussy until she achieved the perfect climax . . . or two. She loved creating the mood for her me-fuck-me sessions and always took special care to set up before pussy play.
She’s so into her own pleasure that she gives head to a dildo in one scene. At one point, I wondered if I was reading a play by play of some porn video on xtube, Lonely Housewife Gets Dirty. When she is not masturbating for hours, she bakes or dabbles in magic. The three pleasures in her life coalesce one day when she is rolling out gingerbread dough. Without first baking said Gingerbread Man, she proceeds to frost and decorate the cookie. She places red hots for the mouth, raisins for the hair, a cinnamon stick for a cock and raisins for balls. Then she takes a book of incantations she found in some store and wishes for the gingerbread man to come to life so it will fuck her.
And he does. The dough rolls off the counter and pops up a fully formed man. His muscles are huge! His hair is soft and gorgeous molasses. (I assume that makes his raisin balls soft and molasses-y too, right?). Mr. Gingerbread advances and then says:
“Run, run, run as fast as you can; I’m going to catch you . . . I’m your gingerbread man!” He called after her as she raced around the island.
When he kisses her, “She let him control her with a deep, tongue-melding kisses that tasted like . . . red hots!” His lips had a hot sensation. I worry for her and his cinnamon stick cock but apparently the burn is turning her on. After she gets a good rogering from cookie man, she falls asleep
In an almost dreamlike state, Marisa slipped from her straddled position and into his arms. With her cheek pressed against his chest, she could hear his heart beating rapidly and distantly marveled at how a cookie could have a heart before she fell fast asleep.
Right, because after she just had sex with a cookie, the fact that he has a heartbeat is what fills a person with wonder. Fortunately for Marisa, the cookie has incredible stamina. Unfortunately for Marisa, Don comes home and finds her fucking the cookie, only it looks like a man to him. Marisa tries to explain that it’s not really a man, but some thing she conjured up but the fact is that she is having sex with another person. Don is suitably enraged and is angry at Marisa. His response is…something I never anticipated. Maybe I should have.
Don drops trou and after accusing Marisa of being a cheating whore, proceeds to force her to have the best sex of her life with him and the Gingerbread man. That’s right. Marisa’s punishment for cheating on Don is to have a threesome. My eyes are like Oreos at this point, in keeping with the food theme. But poor Marisa might have met her match in cookie because he is insatiable and continues to chase Marisa around crying “Run, run, run as fast as you can; I’m going to catch you . . . I’m the gingerbread man!”
What is there to say other than there are things seen that cannot be unseen and this story is one of those things that is burned into my brain, destroying my fond memories of gingerbread cookies, red hots and cinnamon sticks. It’s an F for romance and sexiness but probably an A in destroying my childhood innocence. Bravo.