Author's Note:
Hello dear reader! If you've read
Amazonian Womb Worms
here on Literotica (or the officially published version
The Amazonian Uteroboscis
), I just wanted to mention that
The Yoni Flower
is a standalone story in the same universe as that story, taking place about 10 months later, so there's an easter egg for that later on in this story for you! If you didn't read
Amazonian Womb Worms,
you don't have to read that in order to know what's going on. Enjoy the story! Fair warning: this one is a bit weirder than the last...
Chapter 1
Ecosexual
Saturday, May 28
There are roughly 611 miles of trail to explore in Olympic National Park, but here I am all alone and way off the official path, purposefully wandering deeper and deeper into the mossy wonderland. Not smart considering a thousand people have purportedly vanished without a trace here since 1916, but I wouldn't be doing this if my dad hadn't raised me from the age of seven to be an expert level hiker and wilderness survivalist. And it's not like this is my first time doing this. Since I turned 18, I've spent the last three years spending a few days a month purposefully losing myself in the wilderness. Because I love feeling like I'm discovering untouched pockets of nature where there are no other people--because I don't particularly like most people, but I do love being completely surrounded by plants.
The other reason I also really love hiking a lot: because I eat like crazy and this is how I stay slim and fit.
To keep myself from getting lost forever, I try to follow one bearing on my compass each time I wander off-trail, and for this adventure, that direction is northeast from where I deviated off of the Hoh River Trail. During my trailless adventure, I frequently use my cellphone to snap pictures of landmarks then I update my map accordingly. On top of that, I also mark trees with this biodegradable, neon orange tape near said landmarks, just in case I lose the map or my three portable solar charges die on me. As an additional means of maintaining my bearings, I've also been hiking along this small stream I found about a mile off-trail, following it uphill through soft, dense ferns and clusters of moss-covered trees. Based upon the speed of the stream's current, it's safe to assume it's leading me to a much larger body of water that I'm hoping is a hidden lake with crystal clear waters or a gorgeous waterfall--somewhere I can skinny dip and take a nice cool bath.
About two miles into the off-trail exploration, I discover a small, muddy clearing right where the stream has widened into a creek with slightly more turbulent waters. Perpendicular to it, there's a gigantic, mossy, fallen log.
Oh, I want to lay across that thing so bad,
I think, hurrying over to it.
The width of the horizontal lying trunk is, like, waist high to me, so it takes a bit of effort to climb up on it. As I kneel against the damp, fuzzy carpet of moss, I hike up my skirt then straddle it like a horse.
After gulping down some water, I return the bottle to the pouch on the side of my bag then I drop the backpack onto the ground. Now I lean forward and lay belly down on the fallen tree, resting my cheek against the mossy carpet as my arms wrap around the log. I don't know if it's because of how my panty-covered cooter just grinded against the moss just now or if it's because of all these delicious earthy, floral smells in the air, but I just got super horny and damp out of nowhere...
As I lay here, all I can think about is sitting back up, pulling my panties aside and grinding my bare pussy against this moss-covered wood like it's a mechanical bull, riding it until I'm on the edge of climax. That's when I'd lay on my back and finger-blast myself to completion.
As I'm about to sit up and carry out my botanical fantasy, I spot this straight, branchless stick near the edge of the creek that's so covered in moss that there's not even a spec of wood visible.
Oh my gawd,
I think, climbing off of the log and powerwalk over to it. Upon picking it up, I use two fingers to stroke the five-inch-long, inch-wide twig from mossy tip to mossy tip. It's smooth all the way down--not one sharp growth or bump sticking out of it.
It's perfect!
With my nature-provided sex toy in hand, I skip back to the log and straddle it just like before. Once I find a patch where the moss is thickest and the bark underneath is smoothest, I scoot up to it, pull my panties aside, and then I grind against it nice and slow, humping it the way I used to do with my pillow years ago. Feeling fuzzy, wet moss rubbing against my clit and brushing against my folds feels absolutely amazing, but it's not enough. I need penetration, like, now.
After bucking against it for another minute or so, a climax starts to build, so I lay back and spread my labia apart before teasing my entrance with the smoothest end of the twig. "Ah," I moan as the mossy stick slowly pushes into my slick cavity. A whimper escapes me when it bottoms out.
I pull it out of me nice and slow, stopping before it leaves my tightness, then I plunge it back in at the same speed. Over and over, I toy hole with the twig.
Humping fallen moss-covered logs, diddling myself with sticks and stems--this is the other reason I like to wander off in the middle of nowhere all by myself like this. I'm what some would call an Ecosexual, meaning I have a kink for pleasuring myself with anything of the earth, especially when it's the color of my eyes--green irises speckled with brown. Name a vegetable or fruit that's long and somewhat tubular and I've probably masturbated with it. Carrots, bananas, Asian eggplant, and cucumbers are my usual go-to natural toys of choice. Their existence is the reason I don't own a dildo. And for those fruits and veggies that aren't shaped like dicks, like apples, watermelons and mangoes, from time to time, I slice them up and either toy myself with them or I just slide them inside of me and birth them out over and over.
I've stuffed my hole with fresh leaves, flowers, roots, edible mushrooms, grapes, and even chestnuts that were still in their spikey husks.
One time, after purchasing veggies at an Asian market, I went into the bathroom then I shoved the dirty white bulb end of Bok Choy into my vagina. I spent all day walking around with it stuffed in me until I got home. That's when I masturbated with it before cooking it for dinner.
I've masturbated with vines and even branches not covered in smooth moss.
I've fucked myself with the soil-caked bulb that was at the bottom of a tulip that I dug up from my garden, using that flower like it was a skinny dildo.
Sometimes I even like to pack my vagina with soil then finger myself until my vagina becomes a muddy mess. That is, unless I find a nice patch of mud that smells deliciously earthy, then I just fill myself with muck and masturbate with my fingers or whatever is around.
This probably goes without saying, but sticking soil and unclean vegetation inside my vadge has obviously led to me having to pop antibiotics like vitamins a few times per year. It's because my bizarre kink comes with the risk of frequent vaginal infections that I ended up befriending my OB/GYN, Dr. Sloane Quinn. And to keep from seeing her more than I need to, I've followed her instructions and started taking probiotic vaginal suppositories as a means of prophylaxis to lower my odds of infection. Thankfully, I did just that before leaving my tent this morning.
"Ugh-ah," I groan when my climax nears critical mass.
Now I start rubbing my clit more vigorously while toying myself with a bit more speed, wincing from the friction of the twig's now more noticeable roughness.
"AHH!" I scream as my toes curl and my vagina contracts around the stick. My body trembles so hard from the sweet release that I almost roll off the log.
It takes a few minutes after my orgasm before I can get myself to sit up. After fingering the bits of moss out of my pussy, I whip back my auburn curls, hop off the log, sling my pack over my shoulder, then continue along the creek.
About twenty minutes or so later, I start catching a whiff of something sweet that seems to get stronger every few feet.
Why does it feel like I'm getting a buzz?
Five minutes later, I emerge from the dense brush and spot this mini waterfall where clear water is rushing down lush, green carpeted rocks into a crystal-clear pond. It's not until I approach the waterfall that I realize that the same wonderfully sweet smell I've been catching whiffs of for the last quarter mile is even stronger here, hanging over the area like an invisible cloud of the most delicious perfume.
"Mmmm," I moan, taking a nice deep breath of the heavenly aroma. Almost immediately, I'm overcome with this elation and an excitement that makes my nipples hard and makes my dampening vaginal walls twitch.
Holy shit, why so horny? It's like I didn't just masturbate half-an-hour ago...
Sniffing rapidly like a bloodhound, I try to track down the source of this fragrance, following the scent to where it's the strongest. My nose leads me around the waterfall to a path of mushy soil between the rocks and the wall of trees. A few yards later, the sweet, earthy scent grows more intense. And the closer I get to it, the dizzier and more aroused I become.
Geez, Allie Hannigan, why the heck are you so horny right now?
I inhale deeply through my nose in rapid puffs, relishing in the smell of sugar, vanilla, and honey.
This smell... it makes me feel so fucking good! It's got to be an aphrodisiac of some kind. But from what? I'm a botanist, and I can't think of any plant in the Olympic National Forest that smells like this or induces arousal in mammals. There's nothing like that anywhere in the Pacific Northwest for that matter...
Through the brush ahead, there's a tight circle of
moss-clad, bigleaf maple trees encompassing this grassless, shaded clearing. In the dead center of the clearing, there is one ginormous, leafless Sitka spruce. The dead spruce not only towers above all the rest, but it's also the widest--maybe 15 feet across. And, in the middle of its massive trunk, there is a 10-12-foot wide and maybe 8-foot-high hollow that tunnels right through it.
