
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/672626.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Rotkäppchen_|_Little_Red_Riding_Hood_(Fairy_Tale), Fairy_Tales_and
      Related_Fandoms
  Relationship:
      Big_Bad_Wolf/Little_Red_Riding_Hood
  Character:
      Little_Red_Riding_Hood, Big_Bad_Wolf
  Series:
      Part 5 of Reimagining_Fairy_Tales
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-02-06 Words: 1005
****** Everything A Bad Wolf Could Want ******
by Ghanima_Starkiller
Summary
     The true, dirty truth of what happened between not-so-innocent Red
     and her Wolfie in that cottage....
She’s a sweet, plump thing with rosy cheeks and, he can’t help but notice, an
abundance of bosom. She’s in the blossom of her young womanhood, still yet too
young and naïve to understand the implications of displaying such attributes,
that they made the mouths of big bad wolves such as himself water. When she
strays from the path into the wild strawberry patch, she doesn’t take enough
care; instead of kneeling, she bends over, her short gingham skirt riding up
the backs of her thighs and exposing the frilly bottom of her bloomers, her
round backside snuggled within.
He could take her then and there if he wanted, sneak up behind her, grasp her
by the hips and slide that big ol’ cock of his, now hard and thick as a stump,
between those creamy thighs of hers. But he’s patient: he talks to her, flirts,
finds out where she’s going. She’s talkative, friendly and open, with bright,
wide eyes and a slightly vacant smile. She shows him the goodies she has for
her grandma in her basket; he’s more interested in the goodies she has in
stowed in her clothing. Her fingers are still sticky and red with strawberry
juice; he wants to lick it off of every inch of her.
When she pauses to pick some wildflowers at his instigation, he runs on ahead
to where she told him her grandma’s house is secluded away under the boughs of
the evergreen forest. Grandma’s a batty old fart; Big Bad’s no genius but it’s
easy for even him to get rid of her quickly. And then all he has to do is wait,
his toes curling in anticipation under the covers of Granny’s four poster. And
then it’s, “My, what big arms you have, grandma.”
‘The better to hold you down with,’ thinks he.
And, “My, what big legs.”
‘The better to pump myself into you,’ considers he.
Also, “My, what big ears you have!”
‘The better to hear your screams as I possess you with,’ gloats he.
And so continues the questioning in spite of his trite, spoken replies, “My,
what big eyes, grandmother!”
‘The better to see your body with,’ chuckles he to himself, his cock growing
ever harder beneath the blanket as the charade continues.
“And, my, oh my, grandmother!” she exclaims at last. “What a very large and
very wet mouth you have!” He nearly howls as he springs from beneath the covers
and catches her up. She shrieks in surprise, dropping her basket of goodies as
she feels his large clawed hands, his paws, grasping at her clothing.
“All the better to eat you all up with,” he answers finally honestly as he
throws her onto the bed on her stomach, her knees at the very edge as he takes
hold of her calves and spreads her open to him, ripping those little white
panties off. She’s all pink and juicy inside, just like a wild strawberry, and
his tongue is long and rough as it penetrates those soft folds of her flesh.
She’s salty-sweet as he reaches deep inside her silken walls, lapping them in
lengthy, hungry strokes. She makes the most delightful, most adorable noises,
squeaks and yelps, low sobbing wails and tiny, hitched moans. She squirms and
jiggles, waggling her rump, his muzzle nuzzling into her soft, dewy cleft as he
continues to gobble her up greedily.
Clawing at the sheets with her red painted fingernails, he feels her muscles
tighten around his raiding tongue as she squeals and thrashes, wriggling like a
kitten as she reaches her glorious pinnacle; with a wave of undulating smooth
and slick skin, riding the release of her clenching flesh she floods his mouth
with a rewarding deluge of her steamy nectar.
His prick is so hard it nearly stand straight up against his coarsely haired,
flat and brawny stomach; it’s throbbing with blood, swollen to its maximum
extent and so tender that the softest of drafts makes him grunt with reckless
need. Pulling her to her hands and knees, her backside against his furred
groin, he enters her with one mighty and abandoned thrust. The penetration of
his pounding cock rips away the trembling, fragile barrier of her virginity; he
feels the warm, wet pooling of blood in the secret places he’s ravishing.
The sting is momentary, she learns swiftly, compared to the feel of him moving
deep inside of her. At first he holds her hips, his sharp, dangerous claws
digging into the soft, yielding flesh; he’s guiding her, or more like he’s
holding her in place for his ravenous assault, pulling toward him when he
thrust forward so he could burrow as deeply within her as possible. But then
he’s climbing onto the bed between her legs, bracing his taut body above hers,
his paw-like hands bearing down on her shoulders, pinning her to the soft down
mattress.
He throws his shaggy head back and bays like he’s singing to the full moon when
his moment arrives, and she’s gasping, trying to pull breath into her lungs
against the thrilling pounding of her heart, crying out in the throes of her
ecstasy. Her silken sheath constricts and squeezes him, sucking him deep into
her belly and clasping, enfolding him there. She milks the seed from him,
wringing it from his cock as he spills again and again into her tight confines.
As she lays in a blissful daze on the bed beside him, he lifts his leg and
lowers his head, bathing himself with his tongue, laving its rough surface
against his belly and thighs, and then over the once more growing length of his
manhood, tasting and savoring the flavor of their commingled rapture. There was
her tangy taste of wild strawberries on his own tangy flesh, her cream all pink
and glossy on him. He looks up to see her watching the progression of his avid
tongue.
“My, Mr. Big Bad Wolf,” she says, her voice husky, eager and curious, “what a
very big—”
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