Once upon a time there was a farmer. He didn't have a big farm -- but what he owned he tended with care. He believed the soil was a gift, not something to be taken for granted. It was important to him that he tend to each and every need of the soil -- nurturing, fertilizing, sculpting and landscaping.
As a reward for pampering the soil, the farmer was in turn gifted with a beautiful rose from his garden.
This was no ordinary rose.
The beauty of this rose stayed in his mind. He could tell that this little flower needed special attention, and the farmer -- being a kindly sort -- felt compelled to tend to her. For many hours and days he tended the soil around the rose. He watered the little bush, smoothed the soil with his bare hands, and kept a watchful eye over every aspect of the rose and its needs to allow the soil to focus on his gift.
The farmer pruned the foliage on this favored plant to allow the flower to receive more light and water -- and, wonder of all wonders, the little rose began to slowly bloom!
He was amazed that a bit of love and tenderness every day would in turn provide him with so much joy. And doing so had required so little from him. He merely cared for the little rose plant, to provide it with the things all plants need to grow.
Again, however, this was no ordinary rose.
This fabulously soft little bud would bloom with his slightest caress. Now this was a most profound thing! The farmer did not know what to think. Being a male, he decided the best thing to do was to sit for a moment and consider what this might mean. He sat looking at the little bud, and he felt drawn to its softness. Again, he began to caress, and the silkiness of the petals inflamed his mind. 'Why was this rose so special?"
And he could not resist -- he touched it to his lips.
Our gentleman farmer had nurtured an enchanted rose.
The petals opened, very slowly...and up into his senses wafted a scent that stirred an old, old ache in his loins. Right in the center of the opened rose was the prettiest pair of lips the farmer had ever seen. And when he lifted his mouth from his kiss of the petals, the rose lips opened and she began to speak.
"What is it you wish, Farmer?" the rose asked.
"I wish to be seduced, and bedded by a fair madam -- not a maid -- one who will passionately respond to my every touch, a woman whose cunt will get wet and swollen at the mere sound of my voice; a woman who will drop everything when I bid her come, running to me at my beck and call...one who will instinctively know what to do with -- and how and where to place and play with-- this," and he touched the now swollen pouch between his legs.
