The Tree Hugger

Jordan was on her knees in her garden, her hands buried in the good, clean, black earth. She could feel the moist dirt oozing between her fingers as she worked it, making small holes for the seeds she was about to plant. The sensual feeling of the gooey mud, squeezing out between her fingers, so tactile and so pleasant, was one of Jordan's favorite sensations. The fresh, earthy smell wafted up to her nostrils, making them twitch with delight.

She took the seeds from the bag at her hip and dropped them, one by one, into the holes that she had poked. Then she smoothed the soft, moist earth back over the holes. Each seed that she planted gave her a tiny joy; a feeling of contributing, of creating, and giving back to the environment that had nurtured her all of her life.

As the soft, sensuous mud oozed between Jordan's fingers, she felt a tiny tingling in her groin. The act of creation, of reproduction in the garden, always produced this slight feeling of horniness in her. She squeezed her thighs together, attempting to mollify the feeling, and thought about Woody. She would have to see Woody soon, she thought. Yes, as soon as her planting was finished, she would have a visit with Woody.

Jordan planted three rows of marigolds and two more rows of geraniums. Nice, neat rows; fine and orderly. They went well with the other rows of flowers and shrubs in her nice, neat garden. Then she stood up and admired her handiwork. Very nice, she thought. Soon she would have a large garden full of flowers and shrubs, just like she had every year. She loved her fine, secluded garden, in back of her isolated little house, far from the annoyances of people and everyday life. The tingling in her groin grew more intense, though. She loved plants, of all sorts. Flowers, shrubs, trees, all of them. In fact, she loved plants more than people. People can let you down, she thought. People make you promises, but then back out on them. People leave you. But plants never do. They are steadfast. They are resolute. You can trust them.

Jordan reached into her back pocket and removed her book of garden incantations. She believed that all growing things were connected; people, plants, animals, everything. And she believed that they were all connected to the infinite, to the spirit of the earth, and of the universe, through the very firmament of the planet. She thumbed through her book of incantations, and selected the proper prayer for the occasion. She closed her eyes, calmed her mind, and prepared to offer the prayer to the Goddess. She opened her eyes only briefly to glance at the words in the book, and muttered the prayer, a chant to Gaia, the Mother Earth, over the seeds that she had planted:

I call upon Gaia, Primeval Prophetess,

Great Mother Earth, bring us your blessings,

Bless this new life, bring it to greatness.

Bring heaven to Earth, bring life to the land,

Bring always to never, bring love to living,

Bring growth out of darkness, bring green to our planting.

Jordan closed her eyes again, and sent out her prayer and her wish for a healthy and speedy growing of her flowers. She felt the energy flowing through her, up through her legs, her hips, her chest; down through the good warm soil, through the earth itself, to join her new plants with the infinite, with the universe. It was good.

Jordan opened her eyes. The flowers were now well blessed, and ready to grow. But she still had the sugar maple sapling to plant. She had gotten it to serve as the centerpiece of her garden. It was leaning up against the house, its root ball wrapped in burlap. But before she could plant it, she would need to dig a significant hole, and she felt that the tingling horniness in her groin would not wait that long. She thought again of Woody. Yes, she would have to see Woody very soon. She would have to see Woody right now, in fact.

Going inside her small house, Jordan stripped off her gardening clothes and threw them into a corner. Naked, she climbed into her shower and washed the sweat and dirt from her body. She felt the water, clean and pure as the rivers and the oceans, washing over her skin, cleansing her. Refreshed, she went to her bedroom, and removed Woody from the drawer of her night stand. She placed him on her pillow and looked him over.

"Well, Woody," she said, "I hope you are ready for me. Because I am certainly ready for you." She looked him up and down.

Woody was her favorite dildo. He was long and thick and very smooth. He was made of wood. Jordan had several electric vibrators, made of plastic, but she didn't really like them very much. They all felt far too artificial. They just didn't feel right, and they didn't smell right, either. But she loved the smooth, natural feel of Woody and his polished wooden surfaces. She loved the way he felt deep within her. She loved the way that Woody always took care of her; always made her feel wonderful; always got her off. No human lover had ever been as good to Jordan as Woody was all the time.

Jordan laid her clean fresh body onto the bed. She lay on her back, with her legs spread and her knees raised. She held Woody in her hand, and brought him up to her mouth. "I love you, Woody," she said reverently, and kissed his blunt wooden tip. Then she brought him down between her legs, and gently slid him up and down the lips of her vagina. She gasped as Woody caressed her, stroked her, loved her. She could feel her juices beginning to flow. The thought of the tiny seeds that she had planted in the garden, slowly beginning to germinate under the good clean soil, and the life that she had been instrumental in fostering upon the earth, had her squirming with creative, sexual energy. As her genitals began to moisten, and her lips began to part, she felt Woody begin to enter her. She felt Woody begin to assert himself, to love her as a woman, to part her and stroke her and love her.

Soon Woody was deep within her. Jordan slid Woody in and out, back and forth, slowly at first, and then faster and faster. She felt the smooth, hard wood plunging into her sex, again and again, stimulating her juices and filling her with thoughts of love, sex, and creation. Faster and faster, harder and harder. She gasped, she ground, she stroked and plunged. She felt the blood beginning to rise in her cheeks, and felt her heart begin to pound. She pressed downward on Woody, and then upward, and then from side to side, switching his most intense pressure around and around to all parts of her sensitive tissues. The blood flowed into her vagina, and pounded in her ears as well. She was lost, lost in a world of pleasure. She pictured herself as a young seedling, buried in the ground, bursting forth as a tiny shoot, and then exploding heavenward in a blaze of ecstasy. The tiny shoot in her mind reached upward, upward, ever upward; eventually it burst out of the ground into the sunlight, and felt the warmth of the heavens; at the same time, the warmth of her orgasm rocked her body. She shook and heaved, and clenched her knees together on Woody, pulling him ever deeper into her. She gasped, cried out, and then was silent. Tears of joy ran down her cheeks.

After several long minutes, Jordan began to relax. She eased Woody out of her vagina, and set him carefully on a towel on the nightstand. She rolled over onto her side, a dreamy smile on her face. She dropped off into a deep and happy sleep.

Several hours later, Jordan was awoken by the ringing of her telephone. Dreamily, she answered it.

"Hello?"

"Jordan? I'm glad you're home. Oh, what am I talking about, you are always home! Anyway, I need to see you."

"Hello, Julia," Jordan said sleepily, recognizing the voice of her hyperactive sister.

"Jordan, meet me at Donavan's down on Eight Street, okay? Would you? I need to talk to you about something."

"What, Julia? What's wrong?"

"Oh, Jordan, it's Randy. He's acting all weird again. I just need my big sister as a sounding board. Can you meet me? So I can talk things out? It would mean a lot to me."

"Julia, you know how I hate bars. Why can't you come over here to talk?" Jordan really didn't like the noise, the crowds, and worst of all, the people that hung out at the local bars. The people! She shuddered.

"Oh, come on, Jordan! Do this for me, please? I'll be there in an hour." And Julia hung up.

"Oh, pooh," said Jordan, to the air. Then she looked at Woody, resting peacefully on his towel. "You would never drag me out of my house to some noisy bar, would you, Woody? You're happy to love me right here at home." She blew Woody a kiss. "You are better than all of the people that I know, combined." But still, Jordan felt an obligation to her baby sister, and she started puttering about, putting on clothes, and preparing to meet Julia at Donavan's bar on Eight Street.

An hour later, Jordan was sitting at the bar at Donavan's, shyly sipping a Chablis and hoping that nobody would notice her or try to talk to her. She kept glancing at the door, wondering when Julia would arrive. She glanced nervously at her watch.

After another half an hour, there was still no sign of Julia. Jordan was beginning to get worried. She had already fended off several advances from the roving single males at the bar. She hated this kind of environment! Finally, her cell phone rang. It was Julia.

"Oh, Jordan, I'm so sorry. You aren't at Donavan's already, are you?"

"Yes, of course I'm at Donavan's! Where are you?" Jordan didn't even bother to try to hide her annoyance.

"Well… Randy and I had a fight, and I wanted to bend your ear about it. But… he's come back, and apologized. We've made up. And now, he's getting all frisky and stuff. I… I really want to take him to the bedroom and rape him, you know? Maybe we can work out our problems in the sack. It's worked before! But I really, really appreciate that you are there for me, Jordan, I really do." Julia trailed off her sentence with a pregnant pause, hoping for Jordan's forgiveness.

"Oh, Julia….," Jordan said. "I suppose it's all for the best. You guys do whatever you have to do. I hope you work things out." She hung up, rather quicker and harsher than necessary.

Jordan placed her cell phone back in her purse and glanced around the bar. It had become quite crowded. She silently cursed Julia for luring her out here, and for nothing! She lifted her glass of Chablis and drained it, preparing to go outside and hail a cab to take her back home. But just then the bartender placed another full glass in front of her.

"Compliments of the gentleman," he said, arching his eyebrows toward a tall, handsome athletic type down the bar.

Jordan wanted to shrink into the woodwork. Oh dear God, she thought, what now? The athletic gentleman was sauntering toward her. He was rather handsome, though, thought Jordan, as she continued to cringe, with his blonde hair, trim waist, and broad shoulders.

"Hi, I'm Craig," he said, extending a meaty paw. "I thought you looked rather forlorn, and maybe you could use a friend."

Jordan reached out a timid hand, and Craig took it, and raised it to his lips. He is rather charming, thought Jordan, grudgingly. And handsome.

"Are you all right?" asked Craig.

"Yes, it's just, well, umm, I mean…," Jordan stuttered. Finally she said, "Yes, I'm all right. Thank you for the drink."

Craig turned out to be even more charming than he was handsome, and soon Jordan found herself, to her surprise, enjoying herself. She laughed easily at his jokes, and accepted his compliments with only the slightest of blushes. He was a salesman with a local software company, and had only lived in town for a few months. He seemed able to converse on any topic, and several hours flew by. Before long, it was almost closing time.

"Can I offer you a ride home?" Craig asked gallantly, as the bartender was wiping down the bar.

Normally, Jordan would have run out of the room with her hands over her face at such an offer, but by now she had thoroughly accepted Craig as a gentleman. The three or four glasses of Chablis had helped, too. "Yes, thank you very much," she said. "I don't live too far away." Craig took her arm, and escorted her out to the parking lot and to his Porsche. Jordan was duly impressed. Soon they were screaming down the highway, and Jordan felt the wind in her hair. She was giddy with the wind, then attention, and the break from her usual dull existence.

"Here we are," announced Craig, as he pulled the Porsche up to the drive in front of Jordan's small bungalow. "I've had a lovely time. It was very nice to meet you."

Jordan didn't want the night to end. She heard herself asking, "Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?" She could scarcely believe her own ears at her audacity.

"That would be wonderful," said Craig. "Thanks!" And he was out of the car, walking around to the passenger side to help Jordan out of her seat. He escorted her up the walk.

Soon they were sitting side by side on Jordan's sofa, sipping tea and talking gaily like old pals. And before much longer, they were hugging, and then embracing, and then kissing. Jordan felt Craig's powerful lips on her own, and his tongue in her mouth, and his broad chest pressing against her breasts. She was surprised to find her own hands around his neck, and her groin squirming against his. Their mouths were entangled, their tongues were jousting, and their breath came fast and furious.

Before long, Craig stood, and took Jordan by the hand. He lifted her lightly off her feet and into his arms. "Which way is the bedroom?" he asked, with a friendly twinkle in his eye.

"That way," said Jordan, gesturing with her eyes. Craig carried her down the hall in his arms.

Jordan felt herself being wafted toward the bedroom, and said a silent prayer of thanks to Gaia the Earth Goddess that she had remembered to replace Woody in the nightstand drawer. Craig deposited her on the bed, and gently removed her clothing, and then his own. Soon they were naked on the bed, and wrapped in a tender embrace. Jordan felt his strong muscles and inhaled his masculine scent as her hands roamed all over his taut, naked body. She felt his hands on her, gently touching her and caressing her in all of her most secret places. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to her most basic of instincts.

Jordan soon found herself again on her back, as she had so recently been with Woody, only this time it was Craig between her upraised knees; it was Craig's erect penis sliding between her swollen lips, parting her, penetrating her, filling her. She felt him slide in, upwards, and downwards, and side to side, filling her in all directions. She felt his fullness, and she bit her lip with the painful pleasure of his penetration. She reveled not only in the physical pleasure of the moment, but also in the rare instance of carnal closeness with another human being. She found herself wondering, between the jolts of physical pleasure from Craig's thrusting, grunting motions, how she could live such a normally solitary life. The feel of Craig's skin, the smell of his sweat, the touch of his hands, the taste of his tongue; this is what people are meant to feel!

Her back arched off the bed; her knees clenched his hips; her chin pointed toward the ceiling. Craig thrust deeper and harder, and bit her nipples lightly with his teeth. She cried out in pleasure as the blood pounded in her ears. They reached orgasm at the same time; Jordan bucking and twitching with pleasure as Craig's hips spasmed, and his penis shot jolt after jolt of semen deep into her body. They twitched and writhed and then lay still, savoring each others' embrace.

Eventually, Craig rolled off of her onto his back. Jordan rolled to her side and threw one leg over his hip, and draped an arm over his chest. They both drifted into a deep sleep.

When morning arrived, and the sun came streaming in through the window, Jordan's eyes fluttered open. A satisfied smile played along her lips. She was happier and more content than she had been in a long time. She reached her arm out to touch Craig, but she felt nothing. She turned her head and opened her eyes. He wasn't there.

Oh, the sweet dear, Jordan thought; he must be in the kitchen making me breakfast! She began to sit up, and immediately felt his juices running down out of her vagina. Not wanting to mess up the sheets, she instinctively reached down between her legs, and caught the slick, slimy fluids in the palm of her hand. Glancing around, she saw an empty water glass on the night stand. She reached for it, and let the gooey cum slide down from her palm into the glass. The she hopped lightly from the bed, made a half-hearted effort to smooth her hair in the dresser mirror, and ran lightly to the kitchen to embrace her lover.

But there was no sign of Craig in the kitchen, either. Hmmm, she thought. He must have run down to the store. Yes, that's it; she had mentioned last night how much she loved strawberries! I'll bet he's run out for strawberries and champagne, she thought. She resolved to be as cute as possible for his return. She put on her favorite nightgown, fixed her hair a bit better, and put a tea kettle on the stove. Then she perched herself coquettishly on the sofa, awaiting his return.

When the tea was ready, Jordan poured herself a cup. And then another. And then another. After an hour, part of her knew that he was not coming back. But it took two more hours before the rest of her admitted that he was gone for good. The bastard! She hated him! But even more, she hated herself for letting herself be misled. Men suck! She got in the shower and cleaned herself up, resolving to put Craig out of her mind. But soon she was sitting on the floor of the shower, arms around her shins, chin on her knees, sobbing, and feeling the water pouring down over her. She was a fool!

Eventually, stifling another sob, Jordan got up out of the shower and dried herself off. The sun was high; it was a new day. She dressed herself, and went out to the garden to water her new plantings. Why couldn't people be more like plants, she thought? Plants never let you down. They never leave you. Flowers never wander. Trees never run away. Shrubs never make you promises that they don't intend to keep. She loved her garden. She hated men. The bastard!

She remembered the sugar maple sapling that she had neglected to plant yesterday. It still waited, leaning up against the house, its root ball wrapped in burlap. Jordan went to her shed and got out her spade. She went to the spot that she had selected, right in the middle of the garden, and began digging a hole. She grunted and sweated, but eventually had the perfect sized hole.

She retrieved the sapling from where it leaned against the brick wall of the house. She slit the burlap around the root ball with a knife, exposing the moist peat and roots. Then she placed it gently into the hole, and began pushing the dirt back around the ball, preparing to tamp it into place.

As Jordan pressed the fresh, moist earth back into the hole around the root ball, she remembered that she had left her book of garden incantations in the house. She went in to retrieve it from the bedroom where she had left it. As she grabbed the book off of her dresser, her eyes fell onto the water glass on her nightstand; the glass with the semen that she had instinctively caught as she rose up in bed. Well, why not, she thought? Maybe, just maybe, she had been moved to catch it for a reason? Maybe the life force will be good for her new tree? Maybe she can turn her seduction and abandonment into a good thing? She grabbed the glass and brought it, along with the book, out to the garden.