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The Huntsman Pt. 01

By: xianpeters



They call me the Huntsman, but my real name is. . . . Well, it really doesn't matter what my real name is. That's not at all the point of this tale.

Two days ago—I believe it was a Monday, but I can't be sure as I tend to lose track of time when I'm in the woods—I was on my way to Riding Hood's house. Her grandmother was apparently gone and word was out among the woodland critters that Riding Hood was planning a big event at the cottage that night.

Riding Hood's grandmother's cottage is definitely off the main carriage roads and the well-worn paths, and that explains why I was not surprised to see Riding Hood with nothing on but her long, flowing velvet red cloak getting fucked hard by some guy I didn't recognize in a wolf mask.

I heard her moans and cries long before I saw her. It was abundantly clear what was happening. The birds, the beavers, the foxes, the wolves, the does and bucks—everyone within earshot—knew the score: Riding Hood was in the throes of passion, calling out the name of her lover, her voice punctuated by the slap of his skin hitting solidly against hers. 

That made it easier for me to come upon her quietly so I would not disturb her tryst. I just wanted to watch from a safe distance and not get involved, as I had just come from Prince Charming's castle where he and Cinderella had been celebrating their second wedding anniversary with a festival for the town.

I was exhausted and still hurting from the night before when a clearly drunk Cinderella had cornered me in a stone stairway in the castle and confided in me that the handsome, knightly Prince Charming was just not that interested in what was between her legs. Instead, he had made it known to her from the start that he favored the tight ass and large cock of his 18-year-old stable boy. Nonetheless, she said, they were still trying to produce an heir, but it was obvious the job was not getting done.

So there was the beautiful Cinderella, now 21 years old, telling me all about her husband's desires for young men and how mechanical and routine their fucking had become—and that's when she popped the question to me. 

"Huntsman," she slurred ever so slightly. "Will you fuck me until I am spent and sore and left full of your cum tonight?"

And so the two of us slipped away, Cinderella giving her handmaidens the night off, telling them that she was tired and drunk and needed to be alone. 

I now believe it was the mead and whiskey that helped to prevent me from cumming immediately upon the sight of Cinderella dropping her petticoat and pale blue ball gown on the floor in her private room. She stood before me, only in her white tights, with her bare breasts and pink nipples exposed to the cool night air. She then slowly bent over, careful not to fall, and slid the tights to the floor, revealing her closely trimmed pussy, her long legs and those now-famous feet of hers.

Cinderella then climbed onto the bed on her hands and knees, her ass high in the air, playfully exposing her beautiful, now-glistening cunt to me.

"Please fuck me, Huntsman," she pleaded. "It's been far too long."

And that is what I did; I stripped off my leather jerkin, green tunic, leather pants and knee-high boots, climbed on the bed between her feet and legs and slid my hard cock into her wet cunt.

We fucked until the moon was low in the sky and the orange and blue was just beginning to show on the horizon—moving about the room to make use of tables, chairs and the fur rugs in front of the fireplace. I came inside her three times that night, confident in the fact that should she get pregnant everyone in the land would believe the child to be the prince's.

I would add that there was no walk of shame for me in slipping away early that morning. Cinderella had passed out shortly after we finished with a contented look on her face, leaking my cum from between her legs. I was happy to have done my duty for the kingdom. Cinderella would likely produce the heir the family needed, and the prince's secret love affair would remain secure.

And that brings me back to Riding Hood.

Few things surprise me anymore in this kingdom. I've seen it all: magic, fairy godmothers, enchanted pumpkins, talking mice, giants, evil witches, even dwarf orgies. So that is why when I stumbled upon Riding Hood getting railed by a guy in a furry wolf mask—well, let's just say, given the psychological trauma she had endured in the past with the Big Bad Wolf, I understood why she would fetishize wolves, making her lovers don a wolf costume before being allowed to enter her.

I swear that I only watched for a short while, but I did manage to catch the last few moments of her sexual encounter.

I watched intently as the two furiously fucked, the man in the wolf mask behind Riding Hood—who was leaning over, her hands braced on a tree for support—announcing that he was about to cum.

"Swallow my cum," the wolf-man demanded of her. "Take it down your pretty throat!"

Riding Hood, red-faced and panting, slid off the man's hard cock and turned around so she could get on her knees. She then took wolf-man's cock into her mouth, swallowing him right down to the base and proceeded to make loud gulping and slurping sounds as she swallowed load after load of the wolf-man's seed.

I'm not sure if Riding Hood ever knew I was there, as it was pretty clear that she was hyper-focused on getting laid. 

It didn't matter. Eventually, I decided it would be best for me to go sleep off the past night's excitement somewhere deep in the woods, so I could prepare for that night's party at Riding Hood's cottage, a night I knew would be eventful in so many ways.

The Huntsman Pt. 02



I woke from my morning nap with a start. It happens a lot when I sleep out in the open in the woods. Though it was quiet, I always jolt myself awake, partly due to the guilt I still harbor over what I did to Snow White so many years ago. 

Thankfully, the only sounds around me were the bird songs and some bleating from a doe that was in obvious heat and was desperately searching for a young buck to come and force himself on her.

I reeked of sweat and fucking and needed a bath desperately before the night's festivities. I quickly ruled out the dirty stream, which was nearly dry this time of year anyway, and instead thought of Riding Hood's cottage with her outdoor bathtub as the best option for washing last night's sex off me. 

As I walked to Riding Hood's cottage, my mind wandered back to Cinderella. I laughed to myself, wondering if while bathing this morning she felt the need to explain to her handmaidens why her private room was a disaster and why she smelled of sweat, cum and sex.

I took the fastest route through the woods to Riding Hood's cottage, and it did not take me long to get there. When I arrived, Riding Hood was inside singing, and I could clearly make out the wonderful smells of meat cooking and wine mulling.

Looking at the sky, I could see it was still early afternoon. I didn't know if her wolf-man was still hanging around, but knowing Riding Hood, I figured she had already sent him packing down the path—but only after she had made sure he had given her several orgasms.

Not wanting to startle her—especially since I knew she kept her musket within easy reach—I called out to Riding Hood through the open front door and announced my presence.

"Riding Hood," I said loudly. "It is I, the Huntsman. I know it's early but I wanted to see if I could use your bath to clean up before the festivities start this evening."

Riding Hood stuck her head out the front door, asking for a minute before she would be out to talk.

I caught a glimpse of Riding Hood, still naked, as she walked slowly from the kitchen to her bedroom to put on some clothing before greeting her guest. That's one thing I have always loved about Riding Hood: She is comfortable in her own skin and confident in her own beauty but not to the point of arrogance. 

After a brief minute, a now fully clothed Riding Hood walked out into her frontyard to give me in all my stinky glory a kiss on the cheek followed by a long, deep hug. Her sweet smell instantly transported me back to earlier in the day when I saw her naked and leaning on a tree as a man in a wolf mask mercilessly fucked her from behind. I then thought of me as the man, who was sliding his hard cock into her wet cunt, my large, calloused hands rubbing the soft, smooth skin on her back and gripping her ass as I drove into her again and again and again...

I quickly pulled away from those thoughts, fearful that she would feel my arousal as she pressed her body against mine in the hug.

After a moment, we separated, and she said: "I haven't seen you in weeks. You look tired. How are you?"

I replied that I was doing well, just traveling through the forest, hunting, skinning, fishing, making my living.

I knew she had a lot of work to do to get ready for the party tonight, so I asked her if it would be all right for me to use her outdoor bath tub so I could clean up before the other guests arrived.

Always the gracious host, Riding Hood invited me inside to get some soap and towels and to take a pot of boiling water off the stove to add to the water from her well for my bath.

I gathered the items I needed and headed for her outdoor bathtub, which was placed conveniently just outside the cottage's backdoor.

Once outside, I slid out of my boots and hung my jerkin, tunic and pants on a chair near the tub. I then collected water from the well and added it to the hot water that was now in the tub until the water was a comfortable temperature. Finally I settled into my bath and began scrubbing the smell of Cinderella off my important parts.

I sat there for several minutes, closing my eyes to breathe in the scent of the lavender soap and the air around me, when I heard the backdoor open and Riding Hood ask: "Huntsman, I have a lot to do before tonight, but I, too, need to clean up before people arrive. Would you mind if I joined you in your bath? There's no point in wasting hot water, right?"

And before I could even respond, Riding Hood had slipped out of her gown and was standing naked before me, reaching out for the side of the tub so she could carefully climb in.

It had only been a few hours since I last saw Riding Hood in a state of undress, but here she was right in front of me—pale skin, small breasts, pinkish-brown nipples and trimmed light-brown pubic hair that matched the long brown curls on her head.

Once firmly seated between my legs in the tub, Riding Hood, with a sigh and a giggle, turned a slight shade of red, before saying to me: "Huntsman, I know what a man smells like when he has been in the forest for days. He smells of sweat, animals, gunpowder, leather and smoke. But when I hugged you earlier, you smelled of none of that—only perfume and . . . uh . . . . sex. Why are you being so coy?"

Were it not for the hot bath already causing a flush on my skin, I am sure I would have turned a bright shade of red following her bold question.

Stuttering slightly, I remarked that I had met a woman while traveling and that we shared the company of my campfire the night before.

"I believe there is more to this story, dear Huntsman," she said, "And I know there is something else you are not telling me."

I feigned shock and surprise.

"Why would I hide the truth from you, one of my dearest friends," I replied.

"You may be a good hunter, Huntsman, but I know the woods around my cottage," she said. "And I know you saw me this morning with one of my lovers."

"Now, Riding Hood, I don't want you to get the wrong idea," I stammered. "I was merely..."

She cut me off with a wave of her hand and a quick word.

"Don't be such a prude, Huntsman," she said. "I enjoyed getting fucked while you watched me. Did it turn you on?"

As she spoke, I saw her lean forward and felt her hand sliding up my thigh to my lap. She placed her soft fingers around my now hardening cock, gripping it gently and then began to stroke me ever so softly, causing the head of my penis to rise just out of the water.

"Do you mind, Huntsman," she asked me.

"Oh . . . uh . . . no," I replied. "Of course not."

The truth is, I was still sore from the previous night with Cinderella, but I was certainly not going to reject Riding Hood's advances. It had been weeks since I had been with a woman, and I've lived long enough in this kingdom to know that, every so often, dreams really do come true.

Riding Hood tightened her grip and began stroking my hard cock faster. She looked into my eyes, judging me to see how far along I was and if I was going to cum soon.

My body tensed. I lifted my hips off the bottom of the tub. She knew I was close, so she leaned over more and took the top of my cock into her mouth and sucked while she stroked the base. And even after coming three times into Cinderella's sweet cunt the night before, it did not take me long before I shot three heavy loads of thick semen into her waiting mouth.

Riding Hood swallowed like she was downing a gulp of whiskey and said: "Huntsman, I am very busy today, so my apologies but this is all you are going to get from me at the moment. If you do wait around tonight, however, perhaps after the party we will be able to take this matter up again—that is, assuming you are not completely spent from your . . . . uh, what was it? Oh yes, your lady in the woods?"

She then helped herself to the soap, scrubbed down, rinsed and left, taking my only towel with her back inside.

I guess I'll be air-drying in the warm sun, I thought to myself, before pulling the plug on the tub and draining the water out onto the rocks below.

The rest of the afternoon I spent helping Riding Hood set up for her party. From the number of chairs and tables we set up and the size of the bonefire we built, I knew this was going to be an amazing night—not the very least of which would likely involve me finally getting to pay Riding Hood back for so generously taking care of me earlier in the day.