Salla threw the dildo away in frustration, and the pink rubber vibe bounced off the end of the bed and rolled onto the floor, picking up fluff in it's light layer of feminine dampness coating the pointier half. She sighed and lay there for a few minutes, unable to stop herself from thinking inexorably again about the seed germinating far too slowly on her windowsill in the other room. It had been a struggle to cum for her since she'd felt the overwhelming bliss the fully mature and blossoming plant had given her, and although she had managed a few blissful moments shortly after receiving it in a mysterious box on her doorstep, orgasm had continued to mostly evade her since. Salla just couldn't stop herself from wishing the pink toy was the gel-coated shaft of the plant's flower slipping up into her immobilized body as she shivered and tingled in ecstasy, and when it inevitably didn't live up to those expectations, her pleasure sunk out of her like an unplugged drain.
It had been months since Salla had received the seedling, and for a long time she had thought it was dead - though she watered it and closely watched for signs of life, it had continued not to show any sign of growth until recently, when the first green leaves and a tiny, fragile stem had broken the surface. One solitary, celebratory masturbation session had followed as she looked down on her tiny potted pleasure plant, but since then, she had just wished all the harder that it would grow to blooming age. Now, it was just overflowing its pot, the tips of it's deep green leaves poking past the edges of their confines, and it looked no different to the rest of her arrangement of succulents on her sill.
Anger failing her like her orgasm, Salla raised her ass and pulled up her pants, resigned herself to the knowledge that she would have to clean up her toy and panties sooner rather than later, and got up to check on her plant. There in the deep afternoon light it sat, looking for all the world like just another five-buck plant and still far from blooming. She knew from her spotty research and first-hand experience that the plants tended to bloom once they reached about the size of a coffee table - their sunlight-soaking green leaves wide and low to the ground like a land lily, they would raise several lily-like stems up into the air to puff their heady, subduing aroma into the wind to catch passers-by - and this one was barely larger than her spread fingers. Unable to be mad at it for doing nothing wrong - she was glad she even had it - Salla sat with a plop onto her couch, unsure of anything else she could think to do. It was Saturday, she was alone, and she couldn't even do the one thing she only needed herself to do to feel good.
A few minutes passed by containing only regretful and annoyed thoughts, when an idea seeded itself into the flesh of her mind like the one taking up roots in her pot on the now darkening sill. Salla was convinced - for who else knew she would want one - that her friend Gabriella had sent her the seed. Where was she that she had access to seeds? Salla could only assume that the seed had come from Gab herself - she couldn't picture her friend watching someone else erupt the orgasmic plants out purely for the benefit of harvesting one for Salla - so it had to mean she had not only found at least one, but had been a part of it's magical sexual cycle. Which meant that Gabriella knew where one was - and potentially even more.
The choice was clear, even as the tiny zap of electricity twitched through her clit at the thought of multiple healthy, blooming adult plants - It was time to find her friend.
It turned out not to be that hard - not once Salla had finished kicking herself. She was half-way to her friend's house before she realized Gabriella likely wouldn't be home - but then, she didn't need to be. She had a spare key right there on her chain, and she could let herself through the security system. Ten minutes later, one unlocked door and disarmed camera network later, Salla was wandering through the dark apartment of her once-friend, musing over where she could have gone, when she by chance checked out the bedroom. Perhaps out of some morbid curiosity, or just from a gut instinct, she checked the bedsheets, which were dusty and creased, and found a scrap of paper through the fabric of her pillow. Extracting it, she read once more the typewriter-font writing on this second note with baited breath, her heart pounding.
FARMING OUR FAV-TRY THE FRIDGE
Confused but excited, Salla checked the fridge, disappointingly finding nothing but a nearly-empty box of mixed berries sitting on their own in the door shelf. She was about to slam that very door in frustration when something hit her, and, snatching up the plastic container, Salla read. This time, her beating heart lept with energy as she read "Locally Grown & Harvested - Eastway Farms, Close Enough for Afternoon Tea!" - the name and catchphrase of the farm that had supplied the now mouldy goods inside the container. Eastway farms - close enough for afternoon tea... The catchphrase was dumb and romanticized, but to Salla, it was like a map to the pirate treasure. Eastway was a country suburb about 40 minutes south-east of town, and there were multiple farms open to public hands all year-round picking fruits and vegetables and milking the cows. Salla shot out of the apartment at a near run and was back on the road before the camera system had re-armed itself, shooting out of town and blasting towards the nearest Eastway intake. She called up any public numbers as she drove and quickly found one private property at the bottom of the suburb that was looking to help underprivileged women, POC and LGBTQIA+ people especially all year round. She got there within the hour.
Heart drumming like a marching band between two heavy lungs, Salla knocked on the reception door and was greeted by a dirty, dark-haired woman who must have been in her late thirties or early forties. She was thin and fit and good looking, and she had a sparkle in her eyes as she looked Salla over. The interview was quick and simple and Salla was thrown a pair of overalls and black clothes ten minutes later, and, having donned the new outfit - noticing the distinct lack of anything particularly removable or with easy access in mind - she was led out back.
With a scream, Salla jumped and turned in time to see the dirty blonde hair and grimy face of her best friend throwing her arms around her. She grinned back and embraced her friend, noting the firmness of her body and the smell of feminine sweat and hard work hanging around her like an aura.
'C'mon,' Gabriella said happily, taking Salla by the arm, 'I'll show you what we're working on this week. It should be a good start to the harvest. Mrs. Agie,' Gabriella shouted over their shoulders, 'You don't mind if I show my friend Sal here our crops, right?'
'Not at all lass!' The smiling farmwife said back from inside the doorway. 'Just don't get too invested until they're ready for pickin'.'
'We won't! Crop isn't ready for another month yet anyway!' Gabriella said, already sprinting away with Salla's arm. The pair ran through several fields and down a steep incline without speaking before Salla finally pulled her friend up.
'I had a feelin' that friend she always mentioned might show up.' Agie said to nobody, smiling.
'Gab,' she panted. 'Where have you- when did- how did you send...' But she didn't finish. With an excited jerking of her arm, Gabriella pulled Salla's focus up to where she was pointing, and, hidden beneath the shade of a broken-down shed and underneath a particularly thick crop of trees beside a thin stream was eight or nine distinct bushes that - no thanks to the sudden rush of adrenaline and arousal inside Salla - she instantly recognized as the plant she had fawned over since she had stumbled across it years ago.
