Pounded By The Hanukkah Gelt I Won Playing Dreidel That I Thought I’d Never Eat But Now I’m Seeing In A Whole New Light Because It’s Two In The Morning And I’m Hungry

Trevor’s Hanukkah has been a fun ordeal, packed with delicious food and great conversation, but now he’s exhausted and his family is begging him to spin the dreidel. Trevor finally gives in and ends up the big winner, collecting more foil-covered chocolate coins than he knows what to do with.

This is Hanukkah gelt, and Trevor’s not convinced that the taste of these old, cheap chocolate coins will be any good. He gives them all back except for one, but when Trevor realizes his snack is sentient, a whole new set of problems arise.

Now Trevor is awkwardly playing host to his living gelt, but as the night goes on the two of them begin to notice there more blossoming between them then just hunger for a snack… there’s a hunger for some dick.

This erotic tale is 4,000 words of sizzling human on gay living Hanukkah gelt action, including anal, blowjobs, rough sex, and sentient chocolate coin love.

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POUNDED BY THE HANUKKAH GELT I WON PLAYING DREIDEL THAT I THOUGHT I’D NEVER EAT BUT NOW I’M SEEING IN A WHOLE NEW LIGHT BECAUSE IT’S TWO IN THE MORNING AND I’M HUNGRY

By Chuck Tingle

You could easily map a curve of my energy during family events, a clear peak and valley to the way every one of these gatherings rolls out over the course of an evening. Suffice to say, the valleys can run deep. Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing my loved ones and enjoy these little get-togethers, but at a certain point all the chatting and merriment will inevitably give way to exhaustion.

Hanukkah is no different. I arrived tonight with a spring in my step and excitement twinkling behind my eyes, ready to catch up with all the aunts and uncles and parents and cousins and siblings in attendance. I know exactly what’s on the agenda, the topics of conversation I can easily dive into with each and every one of them.

Gradually, however, these table topics begin to crumble. There’s only so many times I can ask how someone’s job is going, or what’s happening on their sports team of choice.

Another surge of energy comes when we light the menorah, and then another when the meal is served.

The meal, of course, is the highlight at any gathering like this, and tonight’s offerings have certainly piqued my interest. A whole holiday based around oil makes for a hell of a spread, and when the latkes are placed on the table before me it’s hard to hold back. I end up eating much more than I can handle, forgetting that the jelly donuts are coming next and then gorge myself again when they arrive.

This is where the aforementioned energy valley comes in.

At this point, I usually sneak away from the dinner table, feeling utterly stuffed with food as I slip away into the living room for a break. I find a nice place on the couch and immediately collapse into its soft, warm embrace. Back In the dining room, the din of jovial family conversation still rattles on, but here with my face pressed against the cushion I can finally allow myself a moment to relax. I close my eyes, centering all the focus of my body’s internal mechanics around the digestion of this glorious meal.

I allow sleep to wash over me like a soft, subtle wave, every pulse of this psychic tide pulling me farther and farther from the shore of consciousness until, finally, I’m dragged into the ocean. I drift in this vast endless plane, surrounded by visions of applesauce and sour cream waterfalls and heaping plates of kugel.

A sudden cheer rips me from my slumber, yanking me back into the waking realm with a jolt. I sit upright, struggling to focus as the excited hollars continue.

“What? Huh?” I blurt, the worlds tumbling awkwardly from my mouth.

This causes the cheering to swiftly transform, mutating into a cascade of amused laugher.

I rub my eyes and the blur clears away, gradually revealing an assortment of my siblings and cousins gathered on the couch next to me. They’re perched around a central coffee table, upon which an assortment of golden, foil-wrapped coins have been scattered. A dreidel sits tipped on its side, reveals to me this evening’s game of choice.

“What are you? Nine years old?” I groan. “We’re playing dreidel?”

“Come on,” my cousin Dave retorts. “Have some fun. Play with us.”
 “I’m tired,” I protest, but my words go ignored.

“We even got you some gelt,” he continues, motioning to the small collection of these fake gold coins which have been positioned before me on the coffee table.

I roll my eyes, letting out a long moan. “Not gelt,” I sigh. “That stuff tastes so bad.”

Held within these flat foil creations are disks of smooth milky chocolate, something that should taste amazing. Who doesn’t love chocolate, after all?

For some reason, however, eating gelt is always an utter disaster.

Maybe it’s because a lot of these coins get tossed into holiday bins and kept for years, so when someone finally doesget around the eating them the chocolate has long since lost its flavor. Maybe it’s because the company who makes this stuff knew it was more symbolic than anything else and fumbled on the recipe, or maybe I’m just biased because every time I taste of the stuff I’ve just finished an enormous meal.

Regardless, it’s been years since I peeled back one of these shiny little circles and taken a bite of the inner contents. I don’t intend to start now.

“It’s your spin,” someone pipes up, pushing the dreidel across the table to me.

“No, no,” I reply, shaking my head.

“You don’t have to eat the gelt,” they remind me.

Fair enough. I finally give in, taking the dreidel and holding it tight within my fingers. I reach out over the table, hesitating for dramatic effect and then finally tossing the little wooden toy out onto the surface with a surprisingly powerful spin. The dreidel whirls around, careening back and forth for a while until it finally topples over and reveals the symbol for gimel, the best result I could’ve hoped for.

The crowd cheers as the whole central pot of chocolate coins is pushed towards me, significantly adding to both my pile of gelt, and my interest in the game. It’s a lot easier for something like this to hold your attention when you’re winning.

The game continues on as the dreidel passes from one player to the next. Gradually, our collections of gelt are whittled down, until every single piece of tinfoil wrapped chocolate has found its way to one particular pile—my own.

By now, people have started to make their exit, waving goodbye as they put on their coats and wish the rest of the family a happy Hanukkah. Tables are being cleared and plates are being washed, which immediately prompts me to scoop up my entire collection of chocolate coins and carry them over to my mother.

Mom is already diligently tidying the room, and when she sees me she smiles warmly. “Trevor, did you have a good night?”

I nod. “Yeah, that was great. Can I give you this gelt?”

My mom glances down at the chocolate coins in my hand. “That’s yours!” she insists. “You won it!”

I shake my head. “Please. I’m not gonna eat it,” I insist. “This stuff is awful.”

I notice an empty candy bowl nearby and dump in as much of the gelt as I can, but my mom moves to stop me. “At least keep one,” she says. “Treat yourself. Hanukkah is a time to celebrate. Besides, maybe this one piece of chocolate will end up satisfying you for eight whole snacks.”

I can’t help but laugh. I’m so impressed with her argument that I finally relent and slip the single piece of golden gelt into my jacket pocket. “Fine, fine,” I reply. “Thank you so much for hosting. I’m gonna head out.”

I make my way around the party, saying my goodbyes and then finally making my escape into the cool evening air. After all the noise and chaos of the evening hits me in a refreshing wave, immediately perking me up. I pause here for a moment and breathe deep, pulling in all the air I can manage and holding it for a moment, then allowing myself a slow, blissful release.

I stroll to my car and climb in, ready to head home. I toss my jacket into the backseat and then push my keys into the ignition. My car roars to life, casting the road ahead with a brilliant wash of yellow headlights.

I roll down my window, excited to feel a bit more of this glorious night air against my skin, then pull out onto the road.

This holiday has a lot to do with being thankful, and right now that’s exactly how I feel as I glide down these suburban streets, drifting in and out of the overhead glow.

“Happy Hanukkah!” comes an unexpected voice from my backseat.

I let out a startled yelp, instinctively tugging the wheel and causing my vehicle to lurch awkwardly to the side. My eyes wide, I abruptly course correct and erupt with yet another sound. A long, unbridled shriek fills the air as I pull too hard in the other direction, nearly swerving off the road.

The figure in my back seat begins to scream as well, our voices mingling in a panicked chorus until my brain finally has the good sense to slam on my breaks a bring us to a sudden, jerking stop.

I turn in my seat, locking eyes with what I now realize in my single chocolate coin, the golden, foil-wrapped treat now glinting under the streetlamp above.

“I’m so sorry!” the gelt cries out. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“What the hell are you doing in my backseat?”

“You put me here!” he reminds me.

I suddenly remember that I did, in fact, place this treat in my jacket pocket, then I tossed the jacket where he now sits.

I take a moment to catch my breath, struggling to calm down and collect my senses. “I’m—I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I totally forgot.”

“It’s my bad,” the chocolate insists.

“I’m Trevor,” I offer, introducing myself.

“Bruce,” the sentient food replies.

I extend my hand and the two of us shake.

“So, uh, what’s the deal?” I finally ask. “You’re just gonna come home with me now.”

“Well, you did win me in that game of dreidel,” he replies.

The implications of this cause me to hesitate awkwardly. “I mean, isn’t that kind of unethical?”

Bruce laughs. “I don’t have to come home with you,” he counters. “This is my choice. I want to come home with you.”

“Oh, okay,” I reply, nodding along. “Well, I’m kinda tired. I don’t really feel like having company.”

“I won’t be a bother,” Bruce explains. “Honestly, you can just put me in an old holiday bin in your attic or the garage. That’s where I usually live.”

I cringe slightly. “Really? That sounds terrible?”

“Or you could just eat me?” he suggests.

My eyes widen a bit. “What? No!”

The chocolate chuckles to himself, shaking his head. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Some of us sentient objects experience a life and death like you do, but that changes depending on the timeline. There’s plenty of us who just kind of fade in and out of reality, always existing in our own way. If you eat me, I’ll just disappear into the ether.

“I don’t understand like… half of what you just said, but I still don’t think I’m gonna eat you,” I retort.

The two of us sit in silence for a moment, the potential options laid out before us. Finally, I nod in acceptance. “Well, let’s start by getting back to my place,” I finally suggest. “I’m not gonna put you up in the attic or anything like that, and I’m certainly not gonna eat you. Let’s just get out of the middle of the road for now.”

“Sounds like a plan,” the sentient gelt replies.

The rest of our ride home is carried out in silence, long stretches of asphalt drifting past as we cruise to our destination.

This whole situation is quite confusing and unexpected. I keep glancing back at the round, chocolaty passenger behind me, though our eyes never meet. He’s preoccupied by gazing out the window, dreamily watching the nighttime scenery as it flows past.

Eventually, we pull into my driveway and park.

“Home sweet home,” I announce.

We climb out of my car and I lead the way up the front walk. I think to warn Bruce about the first step of my front porch, then suddenly remember he floats.

I open the front door and step inside, the gelt following behind. “Here you go! I’ll give you a full tour in the morning, but for now this is the living room.”

“Nice place!” Bruce replies, drifting around and checking out my home.

“I’ll grab some blankets and you can crash on the couch for now,” I offer.

I wake with slow discomfort, my body gradually coming to terms with a dull ache at the pit of my stomach.

Our bodies can often behave in strange, counterintuitive ways, and tonight is the perfect example. After stuffing myself full of food at dinner, I’m somehow now incredibly hungry for a midnight snack. It feels as though I’ve stretched my stomach to the brink, and now all the empty space is craving to be filled yet again.

I let out a long, low groan and drag myself out of bed, staggering over to the door and opening it up. I continue down the hallway, emerging into the living room, which is connected to the kitchen by way of a large, marble island.

The fridge casts its brilliant illumination across me as I open this appliance, bathing the room in a cool glow, but as my eyes scan the various offerings I find myself deeply disappointed. There’s not much here.

“Trouble sleeping?” comes a voice from the living room, causing me to jump in alarm.

“Holy fuck!” I blurt, closing the door and clutching my chest as I stagger back.

I still haven’t gotten used to having this sentient gelt around, and at this point I’m not sure I ever will.

I turn on a nearby lamp, casting the room in its golden glow and bathing Bruce with its warmth. The second I lay eyes on him, however, a strange and unexpected feeling washes over me.

I’d previously seen this leftover piece of Hanukkah paraphernalia as something of a nuisance, going about my evening while he wandered through the background of my mind. Now, however, I see him for what he really is: a delicious little morsel of sugary goodness.

Not only that, but Bruce is much more handsome than I’d initially realized. Even at this late hour, there’s a confidence and self-assuredness to the way he carries himself, commanding the room with little more than his physical presence.

“Oh,” I suddenly blurt, the single word falling awkwardly from my mouth.

“Oh?” he repeats back with a gentle smirk.

The two of us stand awkwardly for a moment, staring at one another. “I was just going to get a midnight snack,” I admit.

“Well, you can eat me if you’d like,” the living gelt coos.

His tone is mischievous, but I hesitate before traveling down that path any farther. I’ve gotten strangely used to having him around, and while I’ve been assured that consuming this sweet chocolate coin is not painful or cosmically permanent, I’m not quite ready to take that step just yet.

“Maybe there’s something else we could do,” I reply.

The sentient snack’s grin blooms even wider across his face. “I have a few ideas,” he says. “You can always taste without eating.”

I’m suddenly struck by all my negative feelings about chocolate gelt, remembering my long-held bias against their flavor. All of that seems kind of silly now, and at this late, snack-time hour, I can’t imagine him being anything other than delicious.

The two of us slowly begin to close the gap of space between us, the handsome circle of golden foil floating towards me. When we meet, the two of us break out in a deep, passionate kiss, completely losing ourselves in the moment.

My hands immediately begin to explore the perfect curvature of Bruce’s body, starting at the top and then slowly working their way around his flat circumference. The handsome living gelt massages me in turn, playfully teasing his way along my frame with curious fingers.

Bruce begins to strip me down, first pulling my shirt up over my head and tossing it to the side. The evening air feels fantastic against my skin, its soft tingle only amplified by the sizzle of his roaming hands.

I can see now that a massive cock has started to grow at Bruce’s base, his quickly swelling member punching through the golden foil sheathe and jutting out towards me in all of its chocolate glory. My eyes are transfixed, gazing down at his perfect member.

Unable to stop myself, I allow my hands to drift lower and lower across Bruce’s frame. It’s not long before they reach his sizable rod, hesitating only briefly before I wrap my grip tightly around his giant member.

“Oh fuck,” the gelt sighs loudly, tilting his head back and allowing this expression of pleasure to slip quietly from between his lips.

I begin to slowly pump my hand up and down across his length, reading the way that his hips push back against me and finding the natural pace of his body. The two of us quickly fall into a gentle rhythm together, kissing once again as I continue to work him with my hand.

It’s not long before we’ve found a confident pulse, the pleasure escalating at incredible speeds. I’m good with my hands, and I know that I’m perfectly capable of pushing Bruce over the edge right here and now. However, in this moment I have the good sense to hold back.

The night is just getting started.

Instead, I release my grip and slowly drop to my knees before the floating chocolate coin. I gaze up at him with hungry eyes, taking my time as I tease him with the prospect of something more. Eventually, I drag my tongue slowly from the base of his cock to the tip, playfully kissing the head of his shaft when I reach its end.

The taste is exquisite, only adding to the carnal hunger that blossoms within me.

I open wide and take his shaft between my lips, slowly pumping my head up and down across his length. With my free hand I reach up and cradle his hanging balls, providing him with the full service treatment.

“That feels so good,” the living snack offers encouragingly, reaching down and placing his hands against the back of my head as a subtle guide.

My pace escalates, but before I get too fast with this movement I pull back and release him from my depths. I wipe my lips and focus up, preparing for the new maneuver, then slide his cock into my mouth once again.

This time I don’t bob my head, opting instead to take the handsome coin’s rod all the way down. I can feel him driving deeper and deeper into me, pausing momentarily at my gag reflex and then somehow managing to drive past it. All the way down he goes, until suddenly I find myself pressed up against Bruce’s flat surface, his dick utterly consumed in a stunning deep throat performance.

I hold like this for as long as I possibly can, allowing Bruce a moment to savor the feeling, then finally pull back with a loud gasp. A fire is in my eyes now, ravenous for his shaft.

“Fuck me,” I command. “Pound me with that fat gelt cock.”

I swiftly pull off what remains of my clothing, then fall onto my hands and knees. I pop my ass out towards him, slapping one cheek as a playful invitation.

The giant floating coin doesn’t need to be told twice, drifting into position behind me. I can feel the head of his massive cock pushing up against the tightly puckered limits of my backdoor, teasing the rim.

“Do it!” I plead. “I need that milk chocolate dick.”

Bruce thrusts into me, plowing my depths with a single, confident swoop. The sensation is both pleasurable and difficult, and I’m instantly struck by the realization that I might’ve bitten off more than I can chew. Taking this incredibly hung sentient coin into my mouth had been one thing, but my ass is something entirely different. His size is formable, and my body immediately tightens around it.

Fortunately, Bruce is a kind and patient lover, taking his time with me. He holds deep within my body, sensing the tension and allowing me a moment to adjust.

The living gelt begins moving ever so slowly, rocking his hips against me with slow, deliberate movements. He reads the way I push against him, gradually gaining speed as my discomfort falls away and is replaced by a potent sense of warmth and fullness.

It’s not long before the two of us have found a pace together, our bodies slapping against one another as the pleasure spills back and forth between us. I can feel these glorious sensations growing within me, becoming even more powerful with every passing round.

It starts simple enough, an ache at the pit of my stomach that bubble and churns and then spills out across my arms and legs. Eventually my whole body is humming with sensation, the tension pulsing across me with every slam against my backside. I can feel my muscles starting to clench, preparing for the inevitable release of orgasm that lurks just around the corner.

“Just like that, just like that,” I start to whimper under my breath, repeating the words over and over again. The phrase grows louder with every round, until eventually I’m calling it out at the top of my lungs. “Just like that! Fuck me just like that!”

I reach down with one hand and grab ahold of my cock, beating myself off in time with the slams of this handsome chocolate coin. This new source of pleasure immediately begins to dance and swirl along with the one that came before it, a beautiful cocktail of sensation.

By now Bruce is hammering me with reckless abandon, the two of us completely lost in this moment of erotic bliss. I can feel the tension of my looming climax rising higher and higher until it suddenly crests and breaks, sweeping me away in its powerful embrace.

I clench my teeth at first, then throw my head back and erupt with a powerful scream. “Oh fuck, I’m cumming!” I cry out.

Every muscle releases in unison, jerking wildly as the pleasure overwhelms my senses. Every nerve of my body is pinned to its absolute limit, crackling with erotic energy.

Hot white jizz blasts from the head of my cock, spilling out across my living room floor in pearly patterns of spunk.

All the while Bruce continues hammering into me, slamming my ass with everything he’s got and carrying me through my orgasm from beginning to end. The second I’ve finished convulsing, the living coin pushes deep into my and ass and unloads a payload of his own.

“Fuck!” the living gelt howls, throwing his head back and letting this single word stretch on and on as it fills the air.

I can feel Bruce’s cum sloshing into me, his milky seed filling me to the brim and then squirting out from the edges of my tightly packed ass. It drips down the back of my legs in long streaks, running even faster when he pulls out of me.

The two of us collapse into a heap, wrapping our arms around one another as we bask in the afterglow of our belligerent fuckfest.

“That was incredible,” I gush. “I’m so sorry I doubted you.”

“Doesn’t taste so bad, huh?” he asks playfully.

“Tastes incredible,” I assure him.

The two of us fall into silence for a moment. Eventually, I sit up, adjusting my posture for a serious conversation.

“I know you said it’s okay to eat you,” I continue, “but I just… don’t wanna do that. Not yet, at least.”

“Well, Hanukkah is eight whole days,” he reminds me. “We’ve got time.”

“I don’t think I’ll wanna eat you after eight days, either,” I continue.

Bruce furrows his brow a bit, slightly confused.

“Chocolate is a great snack all year round,” I explain. “So is incredible sex.”

“Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?” the sentient gelt asks.

“Would that be so crazy?” I counter.

Bruce shakes his head, then wraps his arms around me again. We kiss deeply, allowing this moment to stretch on and on and on and on. Eight days is great for the sake of tradition, but I’m excited to see how much longer we can last.