Plant Lady

Alma was a plant lady. She gladly called herself that. Some women were cat ladies, or other kinds of ladies, or not ladies at all, but Alma was a self proclaimed plant lady.

She loved her plants. She had 79 of them in her little one bedroom apartment, of all different varieties, and taking care of them was her favourite pastime. She would water them, sing to them, fertilize them, give them plant food, talk to them, spritz them, mist them, cry to them, watch TV with them, prune them, read to them, and even steam them in the shower.

Alma loved all of her plants, but one of them was her favourite, though she never said this out loud. It was a large, majestic monstera, with huge, perforated leaves that reached the ceiling and branched out to take up a full corner of her living room. She tried to give all of her plants equal attention, but she couldn't help turning to the monstera a little more, stroking its leaves while she sang to it. It was just so big, its leaves so thick and green and glossy, she couldn't help but be drawn to it. And the monstera seemed to thrive under her attention.

Alma worked as a receptionist for a construction company, at the main office in a building downtown. She got a lot of attention from men - and some women - she had big breasts, a pretty face and a warm smile, and she knew that that appealed to some people. She didn't dress overly sexy and didn't act overly flirty, but still, people were always asking her for her number or to follow her on social media or to go out for drinks. But she wasn't interested in most people, talking to them was hard and their bodies and faces and smiles didn't matter to her. She didn't give out her number, she wasn't on social media, she didn't drink. She just liked to go to work - well, she went because she had to, where else would she get plant money? - and then go home to her plants. On weekends she would sometimes visit plant nurseries and garden centres and flower stores and she would talk to the people who worked in those places because, like her, they liked plants. But if they gave her more attention than she wanted, she would leave.

Her true joy was being at home, surrounded by her plants. Alma felt energized and revitalized by them. And so she was happy to pour all of her attention into them, especially the monstera.

On a day like any other, Alma had just arrived home from work, and she saw that one of the leaves of the monstera had turned; it used to face the window on the other side of the room - all of the leaves did - but now it faced towards the door. Because she was so in tune with her plants, this was immediately noticeable to her. She walked over and stroked it, murmuring, "Awww, were you waiting for me to get home, dear one? Did you miss me? I missed you," before breaking into one of her favourite songs to accompany her stroking of the leaf. It seemed to her that the plant relished her gentle stroking and singing, it seemed greener and glossier when she was done.

She soon moved into her bedroom and started to remove her clothes, changing from her work outfit into something comfier to wear at home. She had just removed her bra and was doing some light stretching to enjoy the feeling of being released from that cage, when she glanced through the open door to her living room, and saw the monstera. Its corner was near the door to the apartment and across the living room from the door to her bedroom. She noticed it because, as she stood there topless, three of its leaves - including the one she had stroked at the door - had turned to face the open door to her bedroom. It was strange because the leaves didn't usually move so much as they did that day. And never to face anywhere but towards the window. But Alma felt comforted by it. Like it was watching over her. Like it was watching over her and liked what it saw.

She finished removing all of her clothes and stood fully naked in front of her open bedroom door and imagined that the monstera was drinking in the sight of her and getting nourished by it, like it did from the water and the plant food and the fertilizer she gave it regularly. She turned this way and that, so it could see all of her. She wasn't surprised that it looked a bit taller and fuller and the leaves even larger and glossier when she was done. Here she had been depriving her plants of sustenance they so clearly needed, all this time, without realising it!

From that day forward, she stopped wearing clothes in her apartment. And all of the plants flourished, but most noticeably the monstera. It was positively lustrous, and Alma was more drawn to it than ever. And she couldn't get past the idea that it was drawn to her too. More and more of its leaves would be pointed in whatever direction she was in, as though she were the sun and the plant needed her to survive. She loved that, feeling needed, and especially by such a beautiful being as the monstera.

Alma reveled in flouncing around her house in the nude, misting bottle in hand, tending to all of her beloved plants. When caring for the monstera, in particular, she would lean in close to make sure all leaves were properly misted, even the ones in the very back. As she did so, she enjoyed the feeling of the plant's front leaves caressing her body. When she felt their flat waxy surface brush her nipples, it sent a thrill through her whole body. She would slowly move in deeper and deeper into the cool embrace of the plant, feeling welcomed by it, its leaves touching her everywhere.

But Alma always extracted herself at a certain point. The thrill of being physically close to the monstera excited her but also scared her. These feelings were so new and she didn't know what to do with them. She would murmur to it soothingly as she withdrew, petting leaves here and there as they moved over her body. She always felt like she was disappointing the monstera when she moved on to mist the other plants, but she needed to care for all of her plants. And, at the heart of the matter, she was confused by the complexity of her feelings for the monstera.

Alma started to regularly pleasure herself in the living room in front of her plants. She figured the enjoyment she got from it could only have a good effect on the plants, as it was already clear that they somehow thrived on her essence, and what was more essential to her than touching herself? But she also knew that she was doing it specially for the monstera. She wanted it to watch her while she masturbated, and the monstera did not disappoint. She would lie on the couch, legs splayed, with her favourite sucking sex toy whirring away on her clit. Alma loved to see that the monstera's leaves were all strained towards her in these moments, quivering in time to the suction of her toy. There was no doubt it was paying rapt attention to her, clocking her movements and sounds as though it were a lover.

She would increase the intensity of the toy's suction, pinching her nipples and staring directly at the monstera. Imagining it looking right back at her increased her excitement to the point that she always quickly achieved orgasm, writhing and bucking and gasping as her eyes rolled back in her head. When she came back to herself, Alma would find the monstera's leaves dripping with water, even though she hadn't misted it recently and it hadn't been hot enough for a regular guttation, and she knew just how much it enjoyed watching her.

Sometimes Alma would nap, naked, on a lounger that was right next to the monstera. The apartment was always kept warm for the plants, so she could nap without needing a blanket over her. She loved curling up next to the large plant, feeling it so close and above her. She felt protected and loved and would easily fall into a relaxing sleep. When she woke up, all of the leaves would be pointed towards her, some very close to her skin but not quite touching, dripping moisture onto her body.

One time, when she woke from a nap and found one of the leaves so close to her face, she gently cupped it in her hands and sucked the water off of it before she was fully awake and knew quite what she was doing. She gave a startled "Oh!" and blushed a deep red when she finally realised what she had done and pulled away. But the monstera didn't seem to mind at all and almost seemed to reach towards her for another go.

Alma could no longer deny that there was something... special... between her and the monstera. She felt that they communicated without the need for words and were fully in tune with each other. She felt like they were in a relationship, with mutual adoration and attraction on both sides. It was exhilarating and exciting and, of course, a little bit scary, but only due to the depth of her emotions. She thought about the monstera all the time: when she was at work, when she was tending to her other plants, when she was chatting to the employees at the garden centre, when she was in the shower, and when she was sleeping. Her dreams had become these explosions of colour and sensation and feeling, that all centred around the monstera. As soon as she could no longer hide from the extent of her feelings and the truth of her situation, Alma knew she had to act. It was time to take their relationship to the next level. She knew the monstera wanted that too.

She planned it all out: she got home from work and removed all of her clothes, as she usually did. But on this day, she put on mood lighting - turning off all lights in the apartment except for a standing lamp near the monstera. She wanted the monstera to have all the light it needed. It would also inadvertently act as a bit of a spotlight for what was to come, she knew, but she didn't mind giving the rest of the plants a bit of a show. She also put on some low, sexy music. Normally she would sing to the plants herself, but today she thought her mouth might be occupied in other ways, so the soft, ambient music had to come from other means.

Alma approached the monstera in what she hoped was a seductive manner. The plant's leaves certainly seemed to perk up as she got close. She stroked the front leaves, putting her mouth close to one at face level and whispering, "I'm ready now," in a sultry voice. The monstera practically shivered at the sound of her voice. She started moving into the plant, feeling as though the fronds were closing around her. The leaves pressed all over her body, as if drinking in her skin. She felt their waxy surfaces cover her breasts and lightly pulse over nipples, causing tingles to travel up and down her body and a tightening in her clit. She also felt leaves in places they'd never been before, brushing her inner thighs and lips of her vulva as more and more of the leaves surrounded her.

When she felt fully covered by the monstera's leaves, she realised that she was also fully supported by them. In fact, she was suspended just off the ground, the plant holding her in its firm but gentle embrace. Though she was completely at the mercy of the plant, she felt completely at ease, and so turned on - why had she waited so long to give herself to the monstera? She was wet and moaned in anticipation.

Alma felt some of the leaves at her thighs gently pull her legs apart while other leaves crept higher to cup her vulva. "Yes!" she said, both begging and insistent. The monstera wasted no time and curled up one of its leaves in a roll, becoming like a large, gleaming, green finger, and plunged it into her hot wetness. She gasped at the abruptness, and then again when she felt it expand inside of her to fill every inch of her. Next, she felt another rolled finger leaf nudge at her clit, rubbing over and around it to make her bite her lip.

The leaf inside of her started moving in and out, slowly at first and then gaining momentum. The leaf on her clit also started increasing speed, around and over her clit, again and again. The leaves over her nipples increased the intensity of their pulsing. Alma felt like an exposed nerve, nothing but intense feeling and sensation that built and built and built as the rhythm of all of the leaves continued to increase. And just as she was about to ride the crest of the wave building inside of her, the monstera slowed all of its movements, becoming gentle and leisurely, as though it had all the time in the world. Alma cried out in frustration. She could almost hear the monstera chuckle teasingly at her distress. But like any good lover, it started increasing speed and intensity in all of the right spots once again, taking her to the edge and then retreating just in time, as before. It did this again and again. Alma would writhe and plead for release, encased in the monstera's grasp, and each time the large plant would take her a bit further than the last. It was exquisite and torturous and Alma had never felt so good.

Finally, the monstera built her up again, one leaf rubbing around and over her clit in the way it knew she liked, faster and more insistent, another leaf plunged inside of her, rhythmically pumping in and out so she could feel every ridge of its green surface against her innermost sensitive spots, and a final two large leaves clasped onto her breasts, twitching over her nipples so they felt like they were being teased and pinched in perfect timing with everything else. This time, it did not slow down or ease off, but kept building and building and building until the wave inside of her exploded throughout her entire body and she arched her back with the force of it and screamed in ecstasy. She was still fully supported by the monstera, and when she could think again, Alma realised she felt boneless as well as weightless. She had never had an orgasm like that before, she didn't even know she was capable of it.

When her breathing started to slow down and her senses returned, Alma realised that the monstera was moving her gently towards the lounger, as though it was going to set her down. "No!" she said, clutching onto a leaf at her side, "what about you?" The monstera paused in its movements, as if thinking, and then brought her back into the heart of its green surrounds. She watched as a very large and impressively perforated leaf moved in front of her face, where it proceeded to roll up into a conical shape. When in this form, Alma thought it looked delicious, all veiny and gleamingly green. It nudged against her lips and she opened her mouth obediently. The leaf glided into her mouth, and she ran her tongue along the length of it. She felt the monstera shiver at the touch, and she knew it was enjoying itself as much as she was.

Alma placed her hands at the base of the leaf and started moving her mouth up and down the green shaft, as well as licking around it and flicking the underside with her tongue. She threw herself into this endeavour, moderating her movements to the reactions she felt from the monstera; it shivered and jerked and wiggled and she knew she had it in the palm of her hand. She could feel it getting more and more excited, and despite the fact that it had teased her mercilessly, she wasn't going to give it the same treatment. She wanted to satisfy it as repayment for the mindblowing orgasm it had given her. But the plant seemed to have other plans. As her momentum on its curled leaf was growing in intensity, it suddenly pulled her legs apart and plunged its other already well worked curled up leaf - still dripping with her juices - back into her, and she groaned in pleasure around the fullness in her mouth.

The monstera's other leaves went back to their former posts as well, one nudging her clit to excitement again and the others grasping and pulsating over her breasts. Alma loved feeling sublimely full like this, the plant in nearly every part of her, as well as getting to pleasure it while it pleasured her. Together, they worked each other up to the brink of sensation and then broke over the edge, Alma squirting her pleasure all over the hardworking fronds of the monstera, while it disgorged green-tinged water into her mouth and from all of its leaves. She was covered in the stuff, and had never felt so clean. The monstera withdrew each of its leaves from inside of her, and gently placed her on the lounger. She swallowed her delicious mouthful and just lay there, feeling so much bliss. The monstera stroked her hair with one leaf and placed another on her hip, and she fell right asleep.

When she woke, Alma went straight to the kitchen for a glass of water and then grabbed the misting bottle off the counter and went back into the living room. All of the monstera's leaves were turned to her, as if in anticipation.

"How about a good old misting, big fella, and then we go for round two?" The monstera shivered delightfully.