[Author’s Note: This is a translation from old Norman French of what is almost certainly the oldest (and likely truest) version of the medieval fairy tale that eventually surfaced, centuries later, in many forms, in the literature of several European countries. This version was discovered in 2023 in the ruins of an ancient Druid temple not far from Stonehenge. It seems likely from the location and certain grammatical constructions, that the Norman version was a adapted from an original Gaelic text. Be that as it may, for the benefit of modern readers, I have updated the original archaic sentence structures, terms and expressions; not to have done so, would have made its reading ponderous. Like many of its later retellings, this version is allegorical, but certainly less violent, more hopeful and erotic than other ancient versions. I hope you will enjoy it]

A pretty, sweetly innocent girl is happily wending her way through a fragrant, sun-dappled wood. It’s Little Red Riding Hood who is taking a basket of cookies to her grandma. A sender girl, with long auburn hair, she stands barely 5’ 3”, most of which seems to be long willowy legs. As she walks along the forest path, the newly ripened apples of her firm young asscheeks jiggle seductively and she can feel a strange fullness that is not quite in her belly and not quite in her virgin vagina. Her budding nipples, pert little cones (not unlike a wizard’s hat) adorning bumpy quarter-sized areolas, seem much harder and more sensitive than ever before and are poking through the thin cotton material of her jumper in the chill of the spring evening. But perhaps it’s not just the evening chill that caresses her nipples? Perhaps it’s the strange new throbbing of the little pearl nestled between her pussy lips, aroused and wet from the friction of her too-tight panties as she walks. Though she does not yet understand it’s language, it is pleading to be pleasured. In the past few months, the little pearl has grown three times its former size and increased its sensitivity fourfold. If she could see how much smaller her playmates’ pleasure pearls were, she would be pleasantly surprised to learn that she was blessed with a pearl of uncommon magnificence.

As she walks on, Little Red Riding Hood begins to feel the presence of someone or something walking behind her. She turns and sees a large wolf loping along the trail. Seeing that she has stopped and is staring at him, the wolf rises up and stands on his hind legs, towering above the vulnerable young girl. Though she should be frightened, strangely, Little Red Riding Hood is not. He is such a handsome brute – broad muscular shoulders and a sculpted chest covered with a rich coat of beautiful black fur. Little Red Riding Hood’s big blue eyes open wide in wonder and her pouty, sensuous lips form an Ohhhhh in astonishment at the handsome wolf’s cock which, even hanging flaccid, is as long as the little girl’s forearm and nearly as thick. Her precocious little pearl swells larger and sends sparks of pleasant excitement shooting through the moist warmth of her pubescent cunt as she stands mesmerized by the wolf’s testicles, the size of tennis balls, swinging rhythmically between the beast’s muscular thighs.

The cunning wolf senses her ripeness and her arousal; he can detect the scent of her virgin menstrual blood. His eyes twinkle as he marvels at the ivory beauty of her flawless silken skin. When the wily wolf asks her where she is off to, the naive trusting maiden says she is going to her grandma’s house to bring her cookies and stay with her tonight. The sly wolf asks where grandma lives and when Little Red Riding Hood tells him, he says that it is still quite far from where they are now but maybe he will see her there later. “Would you like that Little Red Riding Hood?” She feels again the conflicting twinges of excitement and of fear – she has been warned about wily wolves. Despite those warnings, she says yes, she hopes he will come and visit them – she says she is sure he will like her grandmother.