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snippetsPorn With(out) Plot - Loosely based on Red Riding Hood.
Round 1:
The dream always started the same: a light touch of wind on her face and moonlight softly piercing through the trees. She could almost smell the pine, taste it, memory flooding her being as she stepped softly through the trees. And then came the tendril of thrill curling through her stomach at the lightest snap of a twig and a wisp of breath on the nape of her neck.
She bolted, running through the shadows, racing for the thrill, racing for her life.
But she knew how this ended (how it always ended). Tumbling, falling into the broken leaves, her body weighed down by another's. There was the scrape of teeth against her skin as she bucked, trying to wriggle free but then the hands (paws) grasped her waist and she was trapped in an inferno of heat and fur and electricity.
The dream hadn't always been so welcomed though as growls turned into moans and screams softened into gasps. No, when it had first came on Red, it had been a nightmare.
It wasn't just one, it was many stalking her in the woods. She had stumbled, crashed through the bracken, her heart racing, her breath stilted. She had sobbed out of terror, not delight. She had been running for her life as she was corralled, hunted, teased.
What she was running from, she didn't know; where she was running to, she only knew she wanted her mother to hold her, her father to take care of her, her grandmother...
Well, she was dead, wasn't she?
Her heart broke again at the thought, at the memory of finding her corpse in her house in the woods. Her grandmother--her dearest confidant--had been draped over the table, half hanging off the edge as though death had come on suddenly.
Two days later, the dreams had begun.
And the red river began to flow between her legs on the night of the full moon and every moon since, she bled.
And dreamt of racing through the woods.
Of running for her life.
Of...
Red sucked in a breath, her eyes widening in sudden alertness as her fingers dug into the skinned fur covering her naked flesh. She was no longer thirteen but twenty-three. A woman, not a child.
She stretched and moaned, the memory of the man pressing into her back, nipping at her skin in the darkest hours of the night despite the moon hanging low in the sky. Her fingers caressed the hair of her blanket, remembering silken strands moving against her back as those teeth and lips dipped lower, sucking, kissing, licking her skin free of sweat, her tunic pushed high against her nape. He was so strong, so forceful, so...
She tensed her thighs, rubbing against her sex as she moaned again, remembering that long tongue kissing her there. She knew so much about him. The feel of his skin against hers, the warmth of his full lips against her skin. She knew that his hair long, longer even then her own although that was no small feat since she kept it only long enough to braid. And she knew that he was big, his chest wider than her back, his arms corded with strength as he trapped her within them as he--
Her mind blanked as white heat flashed through her body at the touch of her finger tips caressing her folds, mimicking his tongue, his own fingers as he plundered her body. He made her cum...
Red's breath hitched as she pressed a finger into her folders, arching her body in a need to push deeper, to feel the slickness of her own body against the tip. He was always rough, taking. She was always ready, fighting back against him as she fought to take everything he could give.
She couldn't remember when terror had turned into obsession. When her body had decided to so easily accommodate his demands.
She didn't even know what he looked what (who or what he was).
Red whimpered, trying to recreate that feeling, that need, that want he so easily stirred in her. She pressed deeper, her other hand joining the first as she pressed against that nub of pleasure, as she fucked her own cunt with a finger. Remembering the dream, remembering him, she fell apart, gasping as she stifled her moan. Her body trembled, shivering with sensation as her release cascaded through her, soft as moonlight, as turbulent as the river in springtime.
And as always, after the dream faded, as her pleasure ebbed, she could feel the trickle of... something starting to flow between her legs. Getting up quickly, Red shoved a pad of cloth between her thighs and tied it to her waist before grabbing her trousers, wondering, as she did every month, if her beast would come and find her, tracking her scent as she bled.
She shivered again before pulling on her shirt, her eyes suddenly bright in anticipation.
Soon, she knew, soon he would find her. It was destined.
Round 1:
The dream always started the same: a light touch of wind on her face and moonlight softly piercing through the trees. She could almost smell the pine, taste it, memory flooding her being as she stepped softly through the trees. And then came the tendril of thrill curling through her stomach at the lightest snap of a twig and a wisp of breath on the nape of her neck.
She bolted, running through the shadows, racing for the thrill, racing for her life.
But she knew how this ended (how it always ended). Tumbling, falling into the broken leaves, her body weighed down by another's. There was the scrape of teeth against her skin as she bucked, trying to wriggle free but then the hands (paws) grasped her waist and she was trapped in an inferno of heat and fur and electricity.
The dream hadn't always been so welcomed though as growls turned into moans and screams softened into gasps. No, when it had first came on Red, it had been a nightmare.
It wasn't just one, it was many stalking her in the woods. She had stumbled, crashed through the bracken, her heart racing, her breath stilted. She had sobbed out of terror, not delight. She had been running for her life as she was corralled, hunted, teased.
What she was running from, she didn't know; where she was running to, she only knew she wanted her mother to hold her, her father to take care of her, her grandmother...
Well, she was dead, wasn't she?
Her heart broke again at the thought, at the memory of finding her corpse in her house in the woods. Her grandmother--her dearest confidant--had been draped over the table, half hanging off the edge as though death had come on suddenly.
Two days later, the dreams had begun.
And the red river began to flow between her legs on the night of the full moon and every moon since, she bled.
And dreamt of racing through the woods.
Of running for her life.
Of...
Red sucked in a breath, her eyes widening in sudden alertness as her fingers dug into the skinned fur covering her naked flesh. She was no longer thirteen but twenty-three. A woman, not a child.
She stretched and moaned, the memory of the man pressing into her back, nipping at her skin in the darkest hours of the night despite the moon hanging low in the sky. Her fingers caressed the hair of her blanket, remembering silken strands moving against her back as those teeth and lips dipped lower, sucking, kissing, licking her skin free of sweat, her tunic pushed high against her nape. He was so strong, so forceful, so...
She tensed her thighs, rubbing against her sex as she moaned again, remembering that long tongue kissing her there. She knew so much about him. The feel of his skin against hers, the warmth of his full lips against her skin. She knew that his hair long, longer even then her own although that was no small feat since she kept it only long enough to braid. And she knew that he was big, his chest wider than her back, his arms corded with strength as he trapped her within them as he--
Her mind blanked as white heat flashed through her body at the touch of her finger tips caressing her folds, mimicking his tongue, his own fingers as he plundered her body. He made her cum...
Red's breath hitched as she pressed a finger into her folders, arching her body in a need to push deeper, to feel the slickness of her own body against the tip. He was always rough, taking. She was always ready, fighting back against him as she fought to take everything he could give.
She couldn't remember when terror had turned into obsession. When her body had decided to so easily accommodate his demands.
She didn't even know what he looked what (who or what he was).
Red whimpered, trying to recreate that feeling, that need, that want he so easily stirred in her. She pressed deeper, her other hand joining the first as she pressed against that nub of pleasure, as she fucked her own cunt with a finger. Remembering the dream, remembering him, she fell apart, gasping as she stifled her moan. Her body trembled, shivering with sensation as her release cascaded through her, soft as moonlight, as turbulent as the river in springtime.
And as always, after the dream faded, as her pleasure ebbed, she could feel the trickle of... something starting to flow between her legs. Getting up quickly, Red shoved a pad of cloth between her thighs and tied it to her waist before grabbing her trousers, wondering, as she did every month, if her beast would come and find her, tracking her scent as she bled.
She shivered again before pulling on her shirt, her eyes suddenly bright in anticipation.
Soon, she knew, soon he would find her. It was destined.
