Poppy Flower

The meteor was from a dead planet, destroyed by an asteroid. It contained seeds from the planet's once lush jungle. The force of the impact killed the planet but sent life - bearing fragments hurtling into space; for several hundred millennia the meteor drifted.

It crashed onto another world, embedding in the ice covering much of the continent. The only creatures who noticed were a herd of mammoths, which sniffed indignantly before lumbering to better grazing grounds.

Twenty thousand years later, people built a suburb; two years later, a pregnant couple bought a house; ten years later, they remodelled the back yard, alienating their daughter in the process; five years later, the father bought a hammock and strung it between two cherry trees; and three years after that, 18 year old Poppy Marks decided to celebrate the end of school, by fucking her boyfriend in the hammock.

Poppy Marks was a cheerleader. Poppy was hot; 34C-athletically toned 24-beautifully shaped 35 ass, hot. She wore her short blonde hair in pony tails. Her curvy body and sunny disposition, flavored with cheerleading, created a literally bouncy personality.

Her one flaw was a streak of mean girl; given her social position, mean was a necessity. It served her well, allowing Poppy to claw to the top positions in her clique and cheer squad. The other advantage of being top cat was having the pick of the alpha males.

In Poppy's case, the alpha was Rick Bullard (Rick "Bully", to the non-alphas), star quarterback. Her cheer mates named the couple RickyPop. RickyPop was the envy (and disgust) of every student in Cleveland High; privilege hath its rank, and Poppy had all the privileges.

She had beauty, brains, lived in a good neighborhood, went to a good school. She managed to lose her virginity without running into the pitfalls; no pregnancy, no venereal disease, no stigma as a slut. The other party, a nameless geek, kept his mouth shut. She blackmailed him; Poppy discovered he slept with her because he was closeted and wanted to prove his hetero chops. She wanted to know what it was like; she wasn't impressed. A short conversation, a quiet threat, shut his mouth (later, in college, he came out and his life grew much happier). Shortly after, she met Rick, whose big cock and libido were a perfect match.

That cock was foremost in Poppy's mind as she got ready. Her parents were gone for the week; it was all clear. Poppy's regard for her parents hovered between love and contempt, mostly contempt. It included an intense dislike for her father; fucking Rick in the hammock expressed that dislike.

It wasn't the hammock in itself. The hammock was a symbol. It represented all the things stolen or denied to her. As a child, Poppy loved playing in the backyard. It wasn't much then; a little weedy and bushy, with two cherry trees as the only assets; but a magic place for Poppy.

The bushes were perfect for hide and seek, jungle exploration, Robin Hood, scary Halloween monsters. The cherry trees were natural jungle gyms, with fruit as a treat. Her parents didn't seem too interested in the yard; preoccupied with building careers, securing their place in the neighborhood.

It changed when Poppy turned ten. Her father got a major promotion and her mother came into a sizable inheritance. New money flowed into the house and her parents overdosed on status and career; changes were made. The house had to reflect the family's new tax bracket; starting with the back yard.

Dad put a lot of money into it; hiring the best gardeners and landscapers to turn the yard into a mini-Eden. The yard was going to be an art piece where he could entertain his most important clients; rambunctious, plant destroying kids like Poppy didn't fit. Poppy was banished from Eden.

Poppy's parents made the mistake of adding insult to the injury of ending her childhood. In their status and career obsessed minds, Poppy stopped being a daughter and became a prop. She was expected to be perfect; get the best grades, join the best clubs, be a cheerleader.

Poppy quickly learned to wear perfection as a mask. She presented herself as the obedient virginal daughter; her classmates knew otherwise. Now, in the last summer before college, she was going to perform the ultimate "fuck you" by balling Rick Bullard in the hammock.

"Ooohh Riiick!" she cooed musically over the phone, "Would you like to come over and talk about your football scholarship?" (Actually she hated football; this was a formality).

"Sure thing babe," he answered. Rick was dim but not that dim. His snake puffed with knowledge over Poppy's real intent.

Poppy showered, shampooed, body washed, spritzed perfume, dried and combed her hair. She rummaged through the closet looking for the right clothes, "Wait a second, what am I doing? I'll go nude!" Rick would get a nice surprise, finding her naked in the hammock.

She made her hair in the ponytails Rick loved so much. She checked herself in the mirror; self admiration came easy; curvy, sculpted body; short cut gold muff, pink flower nestled within - "I'm so natural."

She left the door unlocked with a note for Rick. The way to the yard was through the kitchen. She stepped onto the patio to view the best damn garden in the neighborhood.

How to describe the Marks' garden; lush comes to mind. A mind blowing riot of color and scent, filled with almost every flower Mr. and Mrs. Marks could dream; roses, carnations, azaleas, lavender, lilies, orchids, etc. It was as close to a functioning botanical garden as the Marks could make it.

The garden was set in a web like pattern, with groups of flowers interspersed along grassy paths. The whole ensemble was reminiscent of 'Alice in Wonderland'. The centerpiece was the two cherry trees, in full blossom; the only remnant of the old yard that Mr. Marks kept. The hammock strung between them seemed incongruous.

Poppy snorted contemptuously; her father had invaded her magic kingdom and made it his own. The hammock was his personal throne; its very presence was a violation.

Poppy walked along the paths, stopping occasionally to smell the flowers. The roses were a variety of reds, whites, and blues. Poppy resisted the temptation to smirk at her Dad's garish patriotism, "The flowers are beautiful but Daddy is such a flag waver."

The carnations were classic colors: pinks, whites, and yellows. There were several species of lavender in shades of blue, violet, and purple. Poppy's mom sometimes made tea or some other concoction from them. Poppy loved the smell but hated the taste.

"I must be such a sight," Poppy thought, striding nude through the garden. "Almost biblical; all I need is a serpent and better..." she shivered with rebellious delight, "No Dad holding the flaming sword."

The afternoon was late, the weather, warm. She loved the feel of the soft breeze on her skin. The previous spring had a spell of warm, wet weather; gardens everywhere were bursting. "Everything is growing," Poppy thought, "It's all so beautiful."

She came to the hammock and crawled in. Poppy dangled her legs for several minutes, before lying back to await her Adam. The soft breeze, the birds, the rustle of the flowers, lulled her. "I don't see anything wrong with a little nap while I wait," Poppy thought, tucking her arm behind her head. She closed her eyes, dreaming in the spring air.

Rick of the Dick, was a dick; while he was getting into his car to speed to Poppy, Cindy Burns intercepted him. Cindy Burns, who lived next door, was Poppy's archenemy. She wagged her little booty and asked Rick if he could come to her house, "Just for a second," to help take down a crockpot from a high shelf.

Rick, whose primary intelligence and moral center resided in his nether region, said, "Sure thing babe," and within minutes, was in Cindy's room, planting his nether region into hers. Needless to say, he was late for his appointment...very late...very, very late...very, very, very...well you get the picture. No matter, Poppy was otherwise occupied.

To Be Continued...