The Tale of Ramona Long Hair Pt. 01

There once was a young lady of twenty-one years whose hair was long, beautiful and golden brown and grew almost a meter a day.

Her name was Ramona, a pretty country girl with a dainty manner, a sing-song voice and dark brown eyes. She lived with her father, a kindly but poor woodcutter, and her step-mother, a cranky and self-absorbed witch, in a cabin in the woods.

Each morning before sunrise, Ramona would go to fetch water from the well. Here she would look at her reflection in the deep water and burst into tears for she saw reflected a beautiful woman who should be out in the world instead of a prisoner at home: a servant to her demanding step-mother, an embarrassment to the family, and ever in need of "shearing" (as her step-mother called it).

For it was not only the hair on her head that grew with such vigor but also, alas, the hair between her legs. And try as she might to braid it, pin it up, tie it in knots, her step-mother demanded that it be cut no less than five times a day lest anyone discover Ramona's dirty secret.

So it always was that after returning with the water, stoking the embers in the fireplace to get the fire going, and heating the water, the step-mother would call: "Ramona! Ramona! Come here little slut. Spread open your legs it's time for your cut!"

This command Ramona was unable to resist no matter how hard she tried. And it always happened in the same way. Ramona would lie on her back on the kitchen table and pull up her dress to expose the beard between her legs. The step-mother would soap Ramona there, dip the straight razor in the hot water from the fire, grab Ramona's long, pubic hair in her hand and pull it painfully tight so that often Ramona cried out and bucked on the tabletop. Then, with a swish of the razor, would cut off the Offense as if cutting a thick cord and without regard to Ramona's comfort shave the girl's pubic area clean.

Now it happened one day that a handsome prince was passing through the forest and happened to catch sight of Ramona on the tabletop with her dress bunched up at her waist and her pretty legs spread wide.

Wondering at this sight so unexpected, he bade his retinue wait on the forest path while he crept through the thick underbrush to look in at the window. He caught a glimpse of the beautiful Ramona as she righted her dress.

"What treasures one finds in the thick forest!" he said to himself. His mind made up in an instant, he knocked on the door and asked to speak to the girl's father to ask her hand in marriage.

The step-mother answered the door and, recognizing a good thing and a fool in the same instant, said, "Alas, her father is out cutting in the wood and will not be back for an hour. Pray join us for tea which we were just about to enjoy (she cast a meaningful glance at Ramona to get her moving) and I will go to hunt him down."

The prince was only too happy to oblige. He sat at the table where only minutes before Ramona had been shaven, and watched the lovely Ramona as she set about her tasks. In the prince's mind, there was never a girl more beautiful—a chubby rear, large breasts and the face of an angel.

"Well, Ramona," he said as she steeped the tea leaves, "soon we will be husband and wife and I will tie you to the bedpost and sport with you."

Ramona too was smitten. The prince was so handsome and clever! But she feared that he would not love her when he discovered her terrible secret. So, she said, "But I do not like to be tied down—"

"I will spread your pretty thighs and lick and suck between your legs until you cannot but obey me," said the prince in a quiet voice not intended to be heard by the mother.

Ramona, tickled by this talk that was at once highly offensive and deeply desirable, wondered at the prince's determination. "And do you like my hair?" she asked.

The step-mother listened to this idiotic conversation of love not yet consummated and thought how good it would be to be rid of the daughter and her accursed affliction. She drew her cloak around her and, with Ramona's cut pubic hair coiled and secreted beneath it so that the hair should not be left to deter the prince from his aims, she went in search of the father.

Not minutes after the step-mother departed, just as Ramona was about to serve the tea to her future husband, who should appear but her father, the woodsman! He was a bearded, middle-aged man the same height as the step-mother, with the same hoarse voice, and curiously dressed in the very same cloak the step-mother had been wearing.

"Well, father," said Ramona not ironically, with a curious glance at her father's long beard that was curled and thick, "how convenient that you have come just as this prince wants to ask my hand in marriage!"

"Convenient indeed!" said the father in his hoarse voice. "I consent!"

The two lovers jumped into each other's arms and embraced. The father, under the pretext of giving them a moment alone, slipped out of the cottage. And the prince, wasting no time, slipped his hand under Ramona's dress to better be acquainted with her.

"You are so warm and wet here," he said, "like dew on newly mown grass."

He felt the slickened stubble at her pussy, pressed his fingers inside her. She hugged him tight, buried her head into his shoulder and let him slide his hand into her and discover the deep warm places within. Her hands worked at the prince's enormous cock that was already harder than an iron poker and before long she was again lying on her back on the tabletop with her legs spread only this time with the prince thrusting himself inside her. With. Powerful. Force.

Ramona bucked and cried out and tried to bring her legs together to hide the hairy shame growing fast at her pussy but the prince pinned her legs and continued about his business until, with a loud groan, he arrived at his destination, pulling out of her and shooting his princely load over her bare tummy and dress and into her face and hair.

Ramona, wracked with a strange tickly feeling and warmth as never before, did not hesitate when the prince was done. Cum dripping from her nose and dribbling from her chin, she rose quickly to hide the hair that had already grown in thick between her legs.

But not in time!

"Ye gods!" cried the prince, jumping back, knocking the tea pot into the fire and the metal stand with the fire implements crashing to the floor. "Your hair! You're an animal!"

"No, no my love!" cried Ramona, looking pleadingly at her horrified husband-to-be who was, even now and despite Ramona's other considerable charms, seeking to put as much room between her and him.

But when she saw no comfort coming from him who was to be the answer to her prayers, she lost her courage and without so much as a look behind, fled into the forest.

Ramona ran. At first, it was easy enough to follow the paths of the deer, jump the occasional fallen tree, skirt the thorn bushes and undergrowth. She ran with the swiftness of a Summer breeze even though her heart was heavy.

But as the hours went on and the forest grew thicker, her pace slowed. She was continually stopping to gather her pubic hair, growing thick and long and dragging at her heels, tripping her when she least expected so that no matter how diligently she "took it in," she was not only making little progress but receiving quite a pummeling.

It happened that in the thickest, darkest part of the forest her hair finally caught so completely in the brambles and branches that she was unable to move another inch. She was caught as tightly as a fly in a spider's web and no amount of struggling would free her.

"Ah me and my cursed hair!" she cried. "Cursed, cursed hair!"

Now, all her struggling and crying had not gone unnoticed by at least one denizen of this part of the forest, the spider, Thomas de la Garda. He scrambled over to see what all the fuss was about and found poor Ramona, exhausted, imprisoned, the hair on her head matted with sweat, her dress torn from the briar patches, her arms and legs outstretched and wound round with her thick pubic hair.

Ramona could only follow the giant spider with her eyes as it moved this way and that in front of her. The hairs on its 8 hairy legs, its swollen palpa, the four green eyes, the sibilant sound from its mouth, and the smell as of humid peat and chicken broth.

"What kind of girl-s-s-spider are thee?" it said, "Thy web is-s-s not s-s-sticky."

"It's true," started Ramona, not quite sure what to say as she had never before encountered such a large and ugly spider, let alone one that talked.

"And," said the spider as it caressed Ramona's cheeks with two of its legs, "thy face is-s-s s-s-smooth." The hairy legs like a bristle brush on poor Ramona's pretty face, and that awful smell.

"What a fine little body," it said as two more legs eased Ramona's dress off her shoulders, tugged it down to expose her breasts and her thick, pinkish nipples.

"Yes," said Ramona, thinking quickly now. "Don't you want to see more? Just cut me down and you can do what you want with me."

The spider Thomas de la Garda thought this an excellent idea and he made short work of Ramona's "web" of her coiled and tangled pubic hair. Ramona fell to the ground with a thump and knelt there, dizzied, dishabille and somehow more beautiful than ever.

"Well," said the spider, "I should like to take thee from behind. It has-s-s been a long time s-s-since I had a woman."

Alas, poor Ramona! What could she do but keep her promise. She turned and got herself on all fours and tried to keep her chin up, her breath steady, as the spider slipped the dress down off her back. Its hairy legs stroked her naked haunches and its claws tugged rhythmically at her nipples and ran through her pubic hair already growing back thick and long. The sensation was not altogether unpleasant and Ramona wiggled her bare ass as much to inflame the passions as to keep her cursed hair from creating the equivalent of a chastity belt.

"Thy pussy i-s-s s-s-swollen and wet," said the spider as it gripped her bare hips, the hairs on its legs sticking Ramona like bristles and bringing her to an inflamed frenzy. "Are thee ready for me?"

It was all Ramona could do to cry, "yes, yes," as the spider thrust deep.

And in an instant the spider was gone, replaced by the handsome son of a Duke who had been turned into a spider by a witch!

He took his time with Ramona, gripping her hips and fucking her slowly at first, feeling her clench around his cock, sticking his thumb in her butthole to match the rhythm, then taking her faster and harder as their urgency grew until he shot his load of cum inside her as she herself was overcome with passion.

Afterwards, they lay on the ground in the bed of Ramona's ever-lengthening pubic hair, the son of a Duke breathing heavily and his cock still spasming and Ramona with a pretty sheen of perspiration and her face red, breasts heaving.

"I do not mind all your hair," said Thomas de la Garda, "if you will forgive my turning into a spider when I am not having sex."

Ramona, who was still feeling tingly and special all over, nodded and said, "Then we will travel together and find the witch and make her reverse the curse she put on you and maybe she can remove the curse of my hair as well." And this they resolved to do.

At almost the same instant, back at Ramona's house, her prince and husband-to-be made a resolution of his own. Angry at having been made a fool (and, though he could never admit it, strangely obsessed with the girl and the beard at her pussy), he vowed to hunt her down.

"She'll yet be mine," he said, "after I teach her a few lessons with my whip!"

He spurred his horse and the hunt set off into the forest ...