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Little Red Riding Hood

Little Red Riding Hood

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Published by whitewolf777
A Fruity Adult Fairy Tale with more twists than a twisty-turny thing
A Fruity Adult Fairy Tale with more twists than a twisty-turny thing

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Published by: whitewolf777 on Oct 01, 2009
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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Little Red Riding Hood 
 A Fruity Adult Fairy Tale with more twists than a twisty-turny thing By Miranda S Givings and Keli McTaggart 
ONCE upon a time there was a very pretty little girl who everyone loved. Her hair was blonde, her eyes were blue and her lovely, slender legs went on forever. Well, that's not quite true, her girlfriends envied her cute nose and perky breasts, her mother hated her masturbating with her favourite wooden spoons and the boys just wanted to get into her pretty, red knickers, but we'regetting ahead of ourselves.Her grandmother really did love her (in a non-sexual way) and gave her a frilly red thong and amatching hoodie on her fourteenth birthday, which made the little girl very happy. Especially whenshe wore them while she was riding her wooden pony (in a shamelessly sexual way). And thatwas why everyone started calling her 'Little Red Riding Hood'—or 'Sticky Red Riding Knickers',behind her back—though her real name was Jennifer. One day when she was wearing her redthong and hoodie (and nothing else) and riding her wooden pony as usual, her mother peered ather through her thick, pebble glasses and said irritably: "Oh you're such a slut, Jennifer. Don't youknow you'll go blind if you keep doing that?""Oh, it's OK, mum, " she said with a giggle, "Dobbin can always see when I'm coming."Her mother shook her head sadly and said: "Look, here's some spliff and a bottle of Brandy. It'snot the best but she'll never notice the difference. Take them to your grandmother. She's been abit low lately. Some spliff and a few stiff drinks will cheer her up no end. You'd better start nowwhile it's still light before all the vampires and werewolves come out. Don't talk to strangers or stray from your path. For goodness sake zip that top up and pull that slutty microskirt down, or some smelly old man will rip those pretty red knickers off you and auction them on eBay beforeyou've even noticed they're missing. And when you get to her flat, don't go poking about in your grandmother's drawers looking for things to shove up your pussy. That's how your sister endedup in hospital.""I'll do everything right, mummy," Little Red Riding Hood promised. Her grandmother lived in StJohn's Wood, half an hour's tube ride from the Chelsea maisonette she and her mother sharedwith two impoverished BBC scriptwriters and a transsexual plumber, called 'Bob.' No sooner hadLittle Red Riding Hood entered South Kensington station and stepped into a carriage, than shewas accosted by an American werewolf. Hang on a minute...an American werewolf in London—on the Circle line, in broad daylight? Aren't we mixing up our stories here, not to mention askingfor a suspension of disbelief which is quite extraordinary? Look, this is a fairy story, okay? Thewhole point of fairy stories is that they're not remotely believable. Anyway, he didn't look muchlike a wolf when Sticky Red Riding Knickers—sorry, 'Little Red Riding Hood', met him; don't youknow anything about lycanthropy? Can we get on now? Right, as you may have gathered, LittleRed Riding Hood was a bit short-sighted on account of all the time she spent riding her littlewooden pony, but far too vain to wear glasses or contacts. So she didn't spot the telltale signsthat would have warned her she was dealing with a merciless lycanthrope rather than a veryhirsute stockbroker with a luxuriant beard and a sexy, American accent."Good afternoon, Little Red Riding Hood," he said politely. Wait a minute...how the hell did thewerewolf know her name? Well, it's obvious isn't it? She was wearing a black microskirt barelylargely than a postage stamp and had her bright red hoodie tied around her lovely neck. Justbecause he's American doesn't mean he's several votes short of a full majority, does it? He'dhave to be blind as well as stupid not to notice the frilly red thong riding high on her pert littlebottom. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing all alone on the tube during a terrorist alert?" heasked."I'm going to my grandmother's."
"And what's in the pretty basket you're clutching so tightly in your little hand?""A bottle of Brandy and some spliff," replied Little Red Riding Hood. "Mummy dried it fresh thismorning because Granny's feeling a bit low so she'd have something to cheer her up.""And where does your grandmother live?" asked the werewolf."In St John's Wood. It's a big old mansion surrounded by a tall, beech hedge and lots of massiveoak trees. Granny lives in a flat in the south wing. You must know it. Everyone does.""I do," replied the werewolf. "And it so happens I'm visiting a client who lives quite near there.Perhaps we can travel together?""Yes, that would be nice," said Little Red Riding Hood, eyeing him up and down appraisingly."Gosh you're big. How tall are you?""Six two," said the werewolf."Hmm," she said to herself, "be a bit long in the leg, but it'll do... That y' own beard is it?" sheadded aloud, reaching up to stroke the soft growth mantling his cheeks and chin."Yes.""Mmm, safe.""How young and innocent she is," chuckled the werewolf to himself as they found a seat in theempty carriage. "And how firm and perky her little breasts look. Why, she's going to be even moreof a pushover than the old hag. If I play my cards right I'll get to gobble both them before they'veeven noticed my teeth are a bit bigger than the average stockbroker's."By the time the train reached Paddington, Little Red Riding Hood had forgotten all about her mother's warnings and was chattering gaily to the werewolf, seemingly oblivious to the way hestared at her when her microskirt rode up over her tanned thighs. She didn't even complain whenhe slid his hand underneath and started kneading her thong. She closed her eyes and was soonsighing softly to herself with her head thrown back, dreaming she was riding her little woodenpony. It was only when he slid two fingers inside her and began to draw little grunts from her throat that she sat up with a jerk and suggested he might like to wait until they got to her grandmother's."What's at your grandmother's?" he asked huskily."A big surprise.""You're a right little slut, aren't you?""I am with you. Oh, I'm that hot for you I could come in my thong right now.""Well don't," the werewolf said, giving her very wet crotch a final squeeze, "I have other plans for you, my pretty.""Big plans?" she asked breathlessly."Life changing."Little Red Riding Hood smoothed down her skirt and got up as the train pulled into Baker Street. Itwas then that the werewolf suggested that rather than changing to the District Line and travellingon to St John's Wood, they walk the rest of the way to her grandmother's flat. She nodded her agreement and giggled as she slid her hand under his jacket and caressed his back. "Gosh, youare hairy, aren't you?" Like a big, furry teddy bear.""I'm a wild animal," he said with a coarse laugh.As they left the tube station and entered Maida Vale, she glanced shyly up at him from thecorners of her big blue eyes and took his hand in hers. "How very young and naïve she is!"thought the werewolf. "Her hair is like pure gold and her little titties are almost popping out of thattop. Those pretty, pouting lips are just begging to be wrapped around my throbbing cock. Why,she'll be even tastier than the old bag. If I play my cards right I can shag them both before I eatthem!"After walking for a while beside the gorgeous girl and trying not to notice the frilly, red thong ridinghigh on her wiggling bottom, he squeezed her hand as they entered a street market and said:"Look at the lovely goldy bling on that stall. Why don't you look around you? They're sellingReligion tops at under twenty quid over there. This market is full of the most amazing bargains,but you're trudging along so solemnly anyone would think you were going to your own funeral."
Little Red Riding Hood looked up. "I was thinking about granny. She's been so low lately.""Well, there's something to cheer her up," said the werewolf, indicating a nearby stall.When she saw the way the sunlight glinted on the brightly coloured, glass pipes on a tablecrammed with Hippy memorabilia, her blue eyes widened in delight and she said to herself:"Grandma will be so pleased if I bring her one of those to smoke the spliff in. It's still early, so we'llbe in plenty of time." Quite forgetting her mother's warning, she stepped off the pavement anddashed into the market. But when she had picked out one pipe, she spotted an even morebeautiful Indian hookah and was soon rummaging happily among the stalls, utterly oblivious tothe werewolf until he tapped her on the shoulder."Er...look," he said, "I have to drop in on my client. I'll be back in ten minutes."You will come to visit granny with me, won't you?" she asked breathlessly."I wouldn't miss it for the world," he replied, almost drooling with anticipation as he fixed his eyeson the inviting swell of the pert, young breasts straining against her thin top. Little Red RidingHood blushed and tugged her skirt further down her slender, tanned thighs, which only exposedmore of the bright, red thong to the werewolf's hungry gaze. She gave him an affectionate peckon his hairy cheek and was soon completely absorbed in looking through all the beautiful things.As for the werewolf, he wasted no time and legged it straight to the grandmother's flat and rangthe bell."Who's there?" asked a querulous voice."Little Red Riding Hood with some Brandy and spliff for you, granny!" replied the werewolf in aperfect imitation of the little girl's voice."Don't lean on the fucking bell all day, you silly girl, come on in, the door's open, you know I never get up before sunset."That should have given the werewolf pause for thought, but he was so excited by the prospect of devouring the old hag, not to mention some incredible sex with her hot granddaughter, that heboldly kicked open the door and plunged into the flat, fangs bared and eyes alight with bloodlust.He realised his mistake when he entered the old woman's bedroom and idly opening the lid of anornate casket, found a semi-naked, drop-dead gorgeous brunette in her mid thirties reclininglanguidly in the velvet-lined interior."Bugger!" he muttered. "A fucking vampire. Just my luck!"But before he could make his escape, a powerful arm reached out, his head was jerked violentlybackwards and two sharp fangs sank deeply into his neck. His shock quickly gave way to surpriseas the grandmother leaped to her feet, vomited heavily onto the carpet and staggered back withan expression of disgust on her beautiful face."Bugger!" she shouted. "A fucking werewolf. I'd forgotten just how bad you vermin taste!"The two creatures of the night stared at one other warily for several moments, before collapsinginto separate chairs."Well?" said the grandmother eventually, "are you just going to sit there rubbing your neck or areyou going to skin up some spliff?""I don't have any spliff, your granddaughter has it. Wait a minute—if you're a vampire that meansyour delicious little grand—""—is not on the menu," interrupted the grandmother sharply. "Vampires do have some standards,you know. And one of them is not snacking on our own family. But...""But what?" asked the werewolf eagerly."There's nothing to stop you eating her. As long as I get a drink out of it."The werewolf chuckled and rubbed his hands together gleefully. "You sly old bloodsucker. Sowhat do I have to do to gobble up your delicious granddaughter?""Pretend you're me. She's so short sighted she'll never notice the difference if you put on myclothes and imitate my voice.""And what's in it for you?" asked the werewolf slyly."I've been having a spot of bother with some New Age vampires. If you promise to dispose of them you can have Jennifer."

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