Red Riding Hood


You never know what might happen on the way to Grandmother’s house!

Red was a simple girl until Grandmother gave her a red riding cloak. She felt especially pretty in her new cloak, but the temptation to feel all that luxurious velvet pressed to her naked flesh was just too great.

Now, something has awakened inside Red. A persistent ache that she doesn’t know quite how to relieve. Red decides to use her Tuesday walks to dear old Grandmother’s as an opportunity to sample all of the delights the local men have to offer, in a journey to find the one man that can satisfy her.

But Red is not aware that two magical creatures have taken a special interest in her naughty escapades or that true pleasure just might be found at the hand of a master in wolf’s clothing!



As Red took her basket of goodies and strolled through the woods, she ran her hands over the rich velvet of the cloak. Trailing her fingers down and over her breasts and stomach felt especially wonderful. She often touched herself this way but never before had she wanted to know what such softness might feel pressed against all of her skin. It was a sinful thought, indeed, but it made her heart skip.
Making up her mind, she found a secluded area beneath the boughs of two old pines and spread the cloak on the ground. Without any thought to propriety at all—for Red was spoilt and girls like her had only the ability to think about their own wants– she undressed completely. The cool air of the forest caressed her body and puckered her budding breasts. It sent strange shivers up her back, though her skin was actually warmer than usual. Perhaps it was the anticipation of feeling the velvet on her skin.
Eagerly she knelt down. The ground beneath the cloak was cushioned with fallen leaves and felt wonderfully pleasant. Lying on her side, she wrapped her body up in all the rich, red velvet. She laughed aloud at the sinfully delicious feel of the rich fabric on her nipples. She rolled onto her stomach next, reveling in the decadent softness, the feel of the ground teasing her nipples into stiff points.
The soft fabric and the pressure on her breasts awakened a fluttering in Red’s stomach, then a small ache between her thighs. She liked the feelings and used the cloak to stroke her belly and touch her breasts. She could almost imagine it was another person touching her.
She did not know where such a thought had come from but she liked that, too.
As Red lay on her back, her heartbeat quickening in a most curious way, the small ache between her thighs grew more noticeable until it began to feel like a throbbing. The more Red played with her breasts, the more persistent the sensation became. When she pinched a nipple the throbbing turned into a sharp, stabbing sensation. She wondered what she should do about it because it was growing almost painful.
If one hurts an arm or leg they rub the skin to make it feel better, Red mused. Perhaps I should try the same with this curious new ache.
Leaving one hand playing with a breast, for the velvet on the nipple felt so lovely, Red opened her legs. To her surprise, the flesh down there was weeping and hot.
Curious, she pulled back her hand and looked at the clear liquid in surprise.
How peculiar.
She dipped her fingers into the wet skin again, deciding the ache was more important than the origin of this wetness. The folds were hot. Fiery even. Red began massaging gently, spreading the new wetness. Mother always called this part of her body a flower, but just then Red did not think the skin felt like a flower at all. It was silky like her cloak but firm in one spot like the ground she was lying on.
The rubbing felt good and soon she was concentrating her attentions to the bump of flesh between the folds since that seemed to be the cause of her tenderness. She stroked it and pressed on it, desperate to make the sensation go away.
But strangely the more she touched herself the stronger the feeling became. Her vision started to blur. Her breathing became shallow. She tugged on her nipple and, to her surprise, more wetness surged from her body.
It was then she realized that she had incorrectly labeled the feeling as pain. It was not a pain, rather a hunger. Not a hunger for food but a hunger nonetheless. For what, she was unsure.

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