Wow, holy shit! Thank y'all so much for giving me my first-ever "hot" story rating!!
I really enjoyed indulging my dendrophilia fantasies in part one, so I've decided to continue the series!
Language heads-up: Arthur refers to his cl!t with the words Cock, Prick, Dick, and Manhood. He also uses "cunt". I'm a trans dude with a vulva, and this is what felt the sexiest & most natural to me! 💕
Enjoy!!
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Arthur only had ten days of spring break left, and he knew exactly how he wanted to spend them. It involved lots of alone time in the woods, with a certain peculiar tree.
After finding this source of release, Arthur had become an easy-going house guest. Him and his dad had spent the previous week in a whirlwind of ordering pizzas, going on walks through the forest, watching cheesy movies, and planting this year's flowers and tomatoes in the garden. The rapport between them felt somehow easier and warmer than it had since Arthur had left for college almost a year ago.
But much of this energy shift wasn't from Arthur's sessions in the forest.
It seemed as though his dad had done some personal homework during his months of solitude - now sometimes during mundane tasks he would mention an article that he'd read about the effects of hormone replacement therapy, or his surprise in learning that Indigenous societies had coined language for trans people centuries ago, or he would ask a kind-hearted question about how gender-neutral pronouns work.
He wasn't always perfect, of course, but he was trying so hard.
And Arthur saw and felt and
loved
it all.
Arthur was quickly realizing, as the break drew to a close, that he wasn't going to want to leave this time.
---- 🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲 ----
One warm and cloudy day, Arthur's wandering mind brought him to search for porn on his phone. After double-checking that his dad was immersed in work emails upstairs, he pulled up his favorite performer's page and pulled the covers up over his head.
Arthur chose a video he'd seen before - one where a burly cis man fucked a trans man raw and hard against a bathroom wall. (He was craving rough and hard today.)
Arthur stroked circles into the flesh of his cock as the trans man on screen was fucked with cinematic ferocity, heat and desire pooling low in his belly. But after a while - as always - Arthur began to recognize the familiar plateau of his pleasure that he could never surpass with his hands alone. He tried to jerk himself off for a few more minutes before sighing in resignation and closing the tab.
He knew what his body needed.
---- 🌲🌳🌲🌳🌲 ----
Arthur inhaled the sweet perfume of springtime wildflowers as he neared the tree, his pulse fluttering with anticipation. He was prepared this time - loaded up with condoms and hand wipes, along with some lube he'd picked up from a gas station in town.
But as he approached the spot, Arthur saw something that stopped him dead in his tracks. Standing at the base of his tree was an androgynous figure with short curly hair, dressed all in black. They hadn't noticed him yet and appeared to be deep in thought as they surveyed the branch, so Arthur ducked behind a tree to observe.
The stranger wielded a pocket knife, which they were using to carefully chip and carve small bits away from the unmistakably phallic branch.
That explains how perfect it looks and feels,
Arthur thought.
He watched in mesmerized curiosity as the artist accentuated the bulb of the wooden cock's head with the knife, followed by a small strip of sandpaper to smooth out the new cuts. Arthur felt a familiar heat begin to pool in his belly as the artist wiped the wooden penis from base to tip with a damp cloth.
(Arthur was suddenly very glad that he hadn't fucked the tree without a condom.)
Arthur held his breath as the artist surveyed the forest, seemingly scoping their surroundings to make sure that they were alone.
He watched the artist wrap their hand around the branch and begin to stroke it, their other hand moving down to dip beneath the waistband of their shorts. Their head fell back in bliss.
Arthur's head spun.
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my GOD. I shouldn't be seeing this. I should not be seeing this!! I should say something - no, I should LEAVE.
But the ground was littered with fallen branches and dead leaves, and he knew that if he tried to turn around now the mystery artist would surely hear him.
So he looked away, heart hammering as he tried to make himself even smaller behind the tree.
After a while, breathy moans began to punctuate the wet afternoon air. Arthur's cheeks burned with shame as he continued not to look, but his cunt - still so desperate for release from earlier that day - was now throbbing, filling him with dizzying need. He shut his eyes tightly as the moans grew sharper and hungrier, and an unmistakably wet slapping sound began. The artist's voice was deep and resonant, but there was an airy lilt to it that gave Arthur still no clues about their gender or sex.
This turned him on even more.
His hand snuck beneath his jeans to try and provide some small relief, where he discovered that his boxers were absolutely
soaked.
The stranger's wet sounds of sex, punctuated with their rhythmic breathy moans, were slowly driving Arthur towards madness - his body was screaming out for touch, and he didn't know how much longer he could ignore it.
Burning with shame and excitement, Arthur's fingers finally dipped below his boxers to touch his throbbing need. He wasted no time tracing his own slick wetness onto his prick, inhaling sharply at the electric sensation.
His head was completely empty now, devoid of anything beyond the blinding-white heat of lust. He could feel his heartbeat thrumming through every inch of his body as his fingers began to rub desperate, sloppy circles around his cock.
He stifled a whine as his breath hitched in his throat.
He had to look.
Arthur's eyes opened slowly as he turned towards the source of the sounds -
and the view was unlike anything he had ever seen.
The artist's mouth was hanging open as they moaned raggedly, their buttocks slapping back hard against the tree - full to the hilt with its thick, rigid branch.
Their other hand was feverishly working at their groin - pumping their beautiful, rock-hard cock in time with their thrusts.
Arthur's other hand shifted to plunge two fingers knuckle-deep into his tight, horny cunt. Inhaling sharply, he began to grind his hips down onto his hand.
The stranger's eyes screwed shut as they bucked their hips back onto the branch, sweat dripping down their neck. One of their knees rose up as if to stifle the sensation between their legs, and their hand stopped moving for a moment as they readjusted. After a minute they began stroking themself again, their cock noticeably twitching with need every time that they stopped.
They were edging, Arthur realized.
Arthur slid a third finger into his cunt, pressing hard against the spongy flesh of his g-spot and feeling it begin to swell with unspent release. His other hand continued to stroke his prick, sending hot bolts of electricity all the way down to his feet. He continued to watch the stranger in a breathless awe, trying to match the speed of his own strokes to theirs.
Something was shifting in the stranger now, and their hips began to slow as they pumped their cock at a ferocious speed. Arthur watched as their balls clenched and their head fell back, their hand jerking somehow even faster. The artist's mouth fell open in a silent scream as they came in several long, hard bursts. Between ejaculations they continued to pump their cock, whining raggedly as their legs shook.
Arthur was plateauing again, but he was far closer to cumming now than he had been this morning. Unfortunately, as expected, his hands were growing tired and his movements began to slow.
His mouth stayed open, breathing shakily as he enviously watched the stranger come down from their blissful high. Their hand came to rest upon their chest, leaning back against the tree to catch their breath - still fully penetrated by the rigid branch.
Arthur watched in silent, horny amazement as the mysterious artist slowly stood and began to unsheath themself from the tree. Their eyes screwed shut as they stepped forward, allowing the thick branch to slide wetly out of them.
They moaned breathily as the bulbous head popped out of their body, their fingers coming back to gently massage their ravaged hole.
Arthur noticed that the branch had a condom on it, and watched as the stranger rolled it off and lovingly stroked the tree.
CLANG!
The stranger whipped towards the sound, which - to Arthur's complete and utter horror - had come from his direction. His water bottle had fallen from his backpack and landed against a rock, creating a sharp sound that reverberated through the trees.
