Author’s Note: If you’re into plants that make women horny and phallic flowers capable of giving hot, voluminous creampies, this story is for you! This story takes place in the same world as Amazonian Womb Worms, about 10 months after Lena’s story ends. If you’re interested in cock-shaped worms fucking their way into wombs and turning them into sex-crazy nymphos, please feel free to check my profile and read that when you’re done here.
I’ll be posting more chapters on here over the coming weeks, but if you want the full novel, it’s out now, so check out my author page here at scirotic.com/bl-overman if you’re interested.
Happy reading!
Chapter 1 — Ecosexual
Saturday, May 28
There are roughly 611 miles of trail to explore in Olympic National Park, but here I am all alone and way off the official path, purposefully wandering deeper and deeper into this mossy wonderland. Not smart considering a thousand people have purportedly vanished without a trace here since 1916, but I wouldn’t be doing this if my dad hadn’t raised me from the age of seven to be an expert-level hiker and wilderness survivalist. And it’s not like this is my first time doing this. In the three years since turning 18, I’ve spent a few days per month purposefully losing myself in the wilderness. Because I love feeling like I’m discovering untouched pockets of nature where there are no other people—because I don’t particularly like most people, and I love being surrounded by plants.
The other reason I also really love hiking a lot? Because I eat like crazy and this is how I stay slim and fit.
To keep from getting lost forever, I try to follow one bearing on my compass each time I wander off-trail. For this adventure, that direction is northeast from where I deviated off of the Hoh River Trail. During my trailless adventure, I frequently use my cellphone to snap pictures of landmarks, then I update my topographical map with their approximate locations accordingly. On top of that, I also mark trees with this biodegradable, neon orange tape near said landmarks, just in case I lose the map or my three portable solar charges die on me. As an additional means of maintaining my bearings, I’ve also been hiking along this small stream I found about a mile off-trail, following it uphill through soft, dense ferns and clusters of moss-covered trees. Based upon the speed of the stream’s current, it’s safe to assume it’s leading me to a much larger body of water that I’m hoping is a hidden lake with crystal clear waters or a gorgeous waterfall—somewhere I can skinny dip and take a nice cool bath.
About two miles into the off-trail exploration, I discover a small, muddy clearing right where the stream has widened into a creek with slightly more turbulent waters. Perpendicular to it, there’s a gigantic, fallen log that’s overgrown with moss.
Oh, I want to lay across that so bad, I think, hurrying over to it.
The width of the horizontal lying trunk is, like, waist-high to me, so it takes a bit of effort to climb up on it. As I kneel against the damp, fuzzy carpet of moss, I hike up my skirt then straddle it like a horse.
After removing my backpack and dropping it onto the ground, I lean forward and lay belly down on the fallen tree, resting my cheek against the soft layer of spongy leaves as my arms wrap around the log. I don’t know if it’s because of how my panty-covered vagina just grinded against the moss just now or if it’s because of all these delicious earthy, floral smells in the air, but I just got super horny and damp out of nowhere…
While I lay here, all I can think about is sitting back up, pulling my panties aside, and grinding my bare pussy against this moss-covered wood, riding it like it’s a mechanical bull until I’m on the edge of climax. That’s when I’d lay on my back and finger-blast myself to completion.
As I’m sitting up to carry out my botanical fantasy, I spot this straight, branchless stick near the edge of the creek that is completely covered in moss.
Oh my gawd, I think, climbing off of the log and skipping over to it. Upon picking up the twig that’s as wide around as my pinky and about five inches long, I use two fingers to stroke it from mossy tip to mossy tip. There isn’t even a spec of wood visible through the green fuzz, and it’s smooth all the way down—not one sharp growth or bump sticking out of it. It’s perfect!
With my nature-provided sex toy in hand, I skip back to the log and straddle it just like before. Once I find a patch where the moss is thickest and the bark underneath is smoothest, I scoot up to it, pull my panties aside, and then I grind against it nice and slow, humping it the way I used to do with my pillow years ago. Having wet, fuzzy moss rubbing against my clit and brushing against my folds feels amazing, but it’s not enough. I need penetration, like, now.
After bucking against it for another minute or so, a climax starts to build, so I lay back and spread my labia apart before teasing my entrance with the smoothest end of the twig. “Ah,” I moan as I slowly impale my slick passage with the mossy stick.
Humping fallen moss-covered logs, diddling myself with sticks and stems—this is the other reason I like to wander off in the middle of nowhere all by myself like this. I’m what some would call an Ecosexual, meaning I have a kink for pleasuring myself with anything of the earth, especially when it’s the color of my eyes—green irises speckled with brown. Name a vegetable or fruit that’s long and somewhat tubular and I’ve probably masturbated with it. Carrots, bananas, Asian eggplant, and cucumbers are my usual go-to natural toys of choice. Their existence is the reason I don’t own a dildo. And for those fruits and veggies that aren’t shaped like dicks—such as apples, watermelons, and mangoes—I slice them up and either toy myself with them or I just slide them inside of me and birth them out over and over.
I’ve stuffed my hole with fresh leaves, flowers, roots, edible mushrooms, grapes, and even chestnuts that were still in their spiky husks.
One time, after purchasing veggies at an Asian market, I went into the bathroom then I shoved the dirty white bulb end of Bok Choy into my vagina. I spent all day walking around with it stuffed in me until I got home. That’s when I masturbated with it before sautéing it up for dinner.
I’ve masturbated with vines and even branches not covered in smooth moss.
I’ve fucked myself with the soil-caked bulb at the bottom of a tulip that I dug up from my garden, using that flower like it was a skinny dildo.
Sometimes I even like to pack my vagina with soil then finger myself until I’m gushing a muddy mess. That is, unless I find a nice patch of mud that smells deliciously earthy, then I just fill myself with muck and masturbate with my fingers or whatever is around.
This probably goes without saying, but sticking soil and unclean vegetation inside my vadge has obviously led to me popping antibiotics like vitamins a few times per year. It’s because my bizarre kink comes with the risk of frequent vaginal infections that I ended up befriending my OB/GYN, Dr. Sloane Quinn. And to keep from seeing her more than I need to, I’ve followed her instructions and started taking probiotic vaginal suppositories as a means of prophylaxis to lower my odds of infection. Thankfully, I did just that before leaving my tent this morning.
“Ugh-ah,” I groan when my climax nears critical mass.
Now I start rubbing my clit more vigorously while toying myself with a bit more speed, wincing from the friction of the twig’s now more noticeable roughness.
“AHH!” I scream as my toes curl and my vagina contracts around the stick. My body trembles so hard from the sweet release that I almost roll off the log.
It takes a few minutes after my orgasm before I can get myself to sit up. After fingering the bits of moss out of my pussy, I whip back my auburn curls, hop off the log, sling my pack over my shoulder, then continue along the creek.
About twenty minutes or so later, I start catching a whiff of something sweet that seems to get stronger every few feet. Why does it feel like I’m getting a buzz?
Five minutes later, I emerge from the dense brush and spot this mini waterfall where water is rushing down lush, green-carpeted rocks into a crystal-clear pond. It’s not until I approach the waterfall that I realize that the same wonderfully sweet scent I’ve been catching whiffs of for the last quarter mile is even stronger here, hanging over the area like an invisible cloud of the most delicious perfume.
“Mmmm,” I moan, taking a nice deep breath of the heavenly aroma. Almost immediately, I’m overcome with this elation and excitement that makes my nipples hard and makes my dampening vaginal walls twitch.
Holy shit, why am I so horny? It’s like I didn’t just masturbate half-an-hour ago…
Sniffing rapidly like a bloodhound, I try tracking down the source of this fragrance, following the scent to where it’s the strongest. My nose leads me around the waterfall to a path of mushy soil between the rocks and the wall of trees. A few yards later, the sweet, earthy scent grows more intense. And the closer I get to it, the dizzier and more aroused I become.
Geez, Allie Hannigan, why the heck are you so horny right now? I inhale deeply through my nose in rapid puffs, relishing in the smell of sugar, vanilla, and honey. This smell… Whatever it is has me feeling so fucking good! It’s got to be a pheromone-like aphrodisiac of some kind. But from what? I’m a botanist, and I can’t think of any plant in the Olympic National Forest that smells like this or induces arousal in mammals. There’s nothing like that anywhere in the Pacific Northwest for that matter…
Through the brush ahead, there’s a tight circle of moss-clad, bigleaf maple trees encompassing this grassless, shaded clearing. In the dead center of the clearing, there’s one ginormous, leafless Sitka spruce. The dead spruce not only towers above all the rest, but it’s also the widest—maybe 15 feet across. And, in the middle of its massive trunk, there is a 10 to 12-foot wide and maybe 8-foot-high hollow that tunnels right through it.
No way…
As beautiful as the sight is, that’s not what has me captivated. It’s the thing growing up from the dark soil in the middle of that spacious hollow that makes my pussy instantly dampen and throb with urgent need.
Chapter 2 –The Phallus in the Hollow
Saturday
Rising out of a maybe six-inch-high dirt mound that’s longer than it is wide, there’s a lone, very phallic-looking plant that lacks chlorophyll or colorful pigment of any kind. And by phallic, I mean that the thing growing from the thick white stalk that’s jutting out of the soil mound is a fleshy, beige spadix that looks like a cock. The thing even has a bulbous tip that resembles the glans of a human penis almost to a T…
With my heart racing in excitement, I hurry through the brush and move hastily across the circular clearing toward the unusual and beautiful plant growing in the tree’s hollow. The closer I get to it, the more potent the sweet, floral odor becomes. The air is so thick with the fragrance, I can taste it, like I’ve walked into a dense fog of invisible nectar. Each time I inhale, I become dizzier and more delirious with arousal.
I’ve never smelled anything this delicious in my life! Seriously, my mouth is drooling, and so is my pussy.
Upon reaching the entrance to the Sitka spruce’s hollow, I set my backpack down right in the threshold before approaching the ghastly flower. Now that I’m right in front of it, I realize this plant resembles a more penis-like version of the Amorphophallus bulbifer—or Voodoo Lily—plant, but instead of having an upward-facing spathe leaf that surrounds the spadix like a cup, the five thick flower petals dangling from the base of the phallus’s shaft have their arrowhead tips pointing toward the earth. The way the meaty petals are draped down around the thick stalk makes it look like it has starfish arms that are trying to hug a pole.
I grin when it occurs to me what this thing resembles. “This plant looks like a dick wearing a skirt made of giant banana peels.” I giggle as I kneel before the specimen. Now I begin snapping some pictures on my iPhone. “What should I name you?” Since it looks like a plant from the arum genus with an inverted spathe, decide I’ll call it a skirted arum. Or maybe I’ll call it Priapos Euphallus—a true phallus. That, as opposed to the Amorphophallus, or the misshapen phallus.
There is nothing misshapen about this beautiful flower’s spadix. It looks more like a dick than the last dick I saw.
The phallus is maybe 3 to 4 inches in diameter, similar to the stalk below, and 8 or 9-inches long from the glans-like head to where the beige petals begin to split like a banana peel. Basically, it has the dimensions of an actual cock. Even the way the peach-colored veins on the pale, cream-colored skin of the spadix make it look like a penis.
With two fingers, I caress the strange plant from the leathery, waxy petal skirt up the smooth shaft to the bulbous tip. Um, why is this thing warm to the touch? It’s in the shade…
While I caress it, my other hand wanders up my skirt so I can give my needy clit a rub over my drenched panties. The shaft feels so much like skin that, if my eyes were closed, I wouldn’t know it wasn’t a man’s member. Touching it like this sets me into an even worse fit of arousal. Unless that’s just this intoxicating fragrance doing this to me…
Upon curling my fingers around the spadix and giving it a gentle squeeze, I’m shocked to find that it’s surprisingly firm yet a bit squishy, just like actual an erect cock…
“Oh my fuck…” I whisper, lightly stroking it from the middle of the shaft to the tip.
As my curled thumb and forefinger bump into the base of the spadix’s bulbous glans, the shaft throbs ever so subtly between my grip. Then, from the quarter-inch-wide hole at the center of the cockhead, a clear, yellowish secretion oozes out of it, beading up like precum until the liquid glob gets so big that gravity sends it dripping down onto my finger.
“Is this nectar?” I whisper to no one but myself as I release the spadix and sniff the secretion.
God, it smells like the sweetest, most delicious of fruits…
With the finger that was rubbing my clit, I wipe up the secretion and rub it against the pad of my thumb. The liquid is pretty thick and incredibly slippery, much like raw egg whites. And when I pull my finger away from my thumb, a glistening strand of goo stretches between my digits like a heavy rope of snot. As tempted as I am to suck my fingers clean, I’m unsure if this sap is poisonous or not. So, instead of slurping it all up, I simply touch the tip of my tongue to the plant ooze to see if I have an adverse reaction.
“MMM!” I moan, smacking my lips.
The sap, or whatever it is, tastes like a mix between maple syrup and candied cherries!
Despite my previous reservations, I can’t help but lick up the rest of the glistening goodness.
As I swish the deliciousness around in my mouth, I stroke the warm spadix until it oozes twice as much sap as before. Right before it dribbles down the shaft, I wipe up the secretion with my middle finger, reach back up my skirt, pull aside my panties, then lube up my slit with the sliminess.
I need to know if it will irritate my vagina, I think, plunging the sap-covered digit into my tight, slick cavity. Because I desperately want to fuck this plant… No… I have to fuck this plant. I have to…
While I pleasure myself, my free hand caresses its way down the plant’s shaft to the skirt of smooth petals. My gentle touch makes the spadix pulsate slowly again, causing it to spurt out stream after stream of syrupy sap that slowly trickles down its length. The more I tease it, the more viscousness it excretes. Eventually, the entire shaft is glistening with a yellow sheen like it’s lubing itself up for me.
The urge to lick the sweetness off of the flower is impossible to resist, so I end up dragging my tongue from the base of the spadix’s shaft to the cockhead, and then I mindlessly engulf the whole bulbous head with my mouth like it’s a lollipop, slurping up a tongue-full of the secretion straight from the hole like it’s a straw.
“MMMM!” I moan, gulping down the deliciousness before pulling the spadix from my mouth with a loud smack.
Now I watch in awe as it throbs and spurts more sap than ever before, my mouth flooding with saliva the entire time. No more, I think, clenching my teeth and clamping my glazed lips shut. I need to save some of this heavenly lube for when I ride it…
Resisting the urge to consume anymore this thing’s godly sap, I lean back then I lift one of the five waxy petals that are the size of my hand. The thick thing is surprisingly heavy and dense, like a slab of meat.
It’s not colorless after all, I think when I see the glistening, slightly wrinkly underside of the petal. It’s not a beige like the outside, but a vibrant reddish-pink that reminds me of watermelon, and it’s webbed with deep-red veins. Texture-wise, it looks just like the fleshy petals of a Stapelia schinzii succulent if it was lined with the rugae-like flesh of a moist vagina.
“Oh my…” I gasp as my middle two fingers glide across the underside of the petal up toward the crease between the petal and the stalk. It’s surprisingly warm, which is odd for a plant. Also, it somehow feels just as soft and smooth as my vaginal walls do against the finger currently pumping in and out of me. Just as soft, but two times as slick, like I’m fingering a slimy aloe vera. “This is the most amazing fucking thing I’ve ever touched…” I moan breathily. It’s so wet and tight that, when I begin fingering the tight crease between the petal and stalk with quick pumps, it gushes louder than my pussy is right now even though I’m super wet and vigorously masturbating. “This plant—” I whimper as I curl my fingers against my G-spot.
This plant’s top half is like a cock and the underside of it is like a pussy… How? Why did it evolve like this? What is this thing?
When I pull my fingers out from underneath the thick petals, they’re slick with a clear, colorless coating. While it is slippery, it’s a bit sticky, and it’s nowhere near as viscous as what oozed out of the tip. Honestly, it’s more like vaginal secretions than anything. And, speaking of vaginal secretions, there’s all sorts of sticky squelching going on between my legs as my vigorous finger-fucking sends more juices than I’ve ever produced before dripping down my digits.
Are these plant secretions making me wetter? I moan so loudly that the birds in the trees above caw and fly off. Arousal quickly builds like a ready-to-explode pressure cooker. God… I feel… anxious… like… fingers aren’t enough to give me the sweet release I crave. My pussy is aching with a need I’ve never felt before, like I might die if I don’t get something long and wide in me now… Panting, I stare longingly at the golden-glazed shaft before me. It’s been a few minutes since I licked up that sap and started fingering myself with it, so it’s probably safe to fuck myself with this strange plant without having to worry about any adverse reactions.
After setting up my camera to record what’s about to go down, I yank down my panties and kick them off to the side. With my dress hiked up, I squat over the skirted dick-like plant. Just like I would with a guy I’m about to ride, I hold the spadix in place with my thumb and pointer then lower myself onto it until the slick, bulbous knob of its tip parts the dangling meat curtains of my inner labia.
“Oof,” I sigh out when the girthy tip glides in and bulges through my tight opening. It’s such a delicious feeling, I savor the experience by impaling my cavity with the thing as slowly as possible. “Auuugh-ohh!” is the throaty sound I make as the phallus’s slick head drags against my G-spot, my cry of pleasure echoing inside the tree’s hollow.
That’s when I release the spadix and reach underneath the petals so I can hold the flower by the stalk. The erect stem is rubbery to the touch and it feels firm like a muscular snake when I squeeze it. Like the spadix, it throbs ever so slowly in my grip.
Inch by inch, the naturally lubed phallus slips deeper into me, filling me the way I’ve needed since I first smelled it. When it bumps into my cervix, I rise off of it until the cockhead is about to pop out of me, then I squat back onto it a bit faster. My core spasms as my pussy swallows it as deep as it’ll go. The length of it, its girth, the warmth of its skin, the way its fleshy phallus feels gliding against my tight flesh—it’s almost indistinguishable from a well-endowed man’s cock. Actually, it feels so much better than a dick, because it’s constantly throbbing gently inside of me while also coating itself with this incredibly slippery sap that I swear is making my pussy tingle with pleasure and making everything feel more intense. There’s also this weird stretching sensation deep in my vagina that sort of feels like I’m dilating or something… I don’t hate it, but I don’t love it either…
A few bounces later, my legs go weak from pleasure and I almost fall, catching myself by planting my hand in the soil below. The stalk bends with me, but it doesn’t snap, thankfully. Since it seems sturdy and flexible, I unwrap my hand from around it and I begin bouncing on it a bit faster—a bit rougher, basically hate-fucking it. In response, the plant’s throbbing grows more rapid, and I swear it feels like it’s swelling inside of me.
No, it is definitely swelling inside me, I think after the pleasure makes my vagina repeatedly clench around it. It feels like it’s stretching me out in the best way.
With each descent, I take it as deep as my sex will allow, letting it batter my cervix. The longer I go at it, the harder and faster I ride it. Every time I writhe and grind down onto it, my pussy gushes louder and louder. During each ascent from its base, my sap-filled cavity squelches like a boot being pulled out of thick mud. And when I look down to adjust my footing, I stare in awe at the slowly expanding puddle of clear, yellowish syrup pooled around the stalk beneath me.
At one point, right as I’m about to orgasm—right as the head of the spadix is bulging in my tight entrance, my pussy clenches like a vice, squeezing the slippery cock-plant so hard that it launches out of me with a sticky-sounding bloop. When I look down at the slimy, throbbing phallus, I find that it is definitely girthier than it was when I first saw it. Not only is it girthier, but when I hold it place for reinsertion, the skin of it feels mushy and tacky to the touch, like a peeled banana that’s been sucked on vigorously or masturbated with—a messy texture I know all too well from doing both things to bananas.
It’s not dissolving, is it? I drag a finger across the pulpy slime coating it, stopping when my gaze falls onto these four thin, semi-transparent white vines sticking out of the sap-spurting hole. Also, what are these little things?
I don’t care why vines are growing out of the tip of the spadix or that the phallus is swelling, I just slide the bulbous, knob of head back and forth between my slit until the engorged thing pops back inside of me, then I drop down on it until it fills me to end of my canal.
To better help me bounce on the cock-plant without falling over, I lean back a bit then plant my hands in the soft soil right behind my ass the way I do to a guy’s thighs when I ride him cowgirl. Now that I’m basically perched in a crab walk pose, I look up at the hollow’s bark ceiling while I fuck the plant’s phallic rod even harder and faster than before.
It only takes six seconds for my climax to build back to the brink of ecstasy. Right when I’m on the edge, I maneuver back into a squat and use a dirt-covered hand to rub my sap-glazed clit.
It only takes two more bounces on the spadix before sweet release strikes like a heavenly lightning bolt from within. For a split second, my vision goes white as the mother of all orgasms explodes below, sending waves of pleasure and bliss surging through every fiber of my being.
The intensity of my climax makes my legs go so weak that I wind up dropping down onto the spadix harder than intended, slamming my cervix against the bulbous head right as my vaginal walls clench around the swollen shaft. My body quakes so hard that I lose my balance and topple over backward, the rigid stalk bending with me all the way down while my cramping love muscle keeps the still ballooning spadix from slipping out. A second after my ass hits the dirt, the phallus throbs hard once, twice. On the third throb—the hardest throb—this powerful jet of warm sludge blasts right up against my cervix, and damn does it feel fantastic.
Holy shit! There’s no way this plant just came inside me, I think, writhing in pleasure from the unfamiliar sensation. It feels so good that I grind into it, taking the phallus as deep as my sex will allow. How is this even possible?
“AH-AHH!” I cry out as a second jet of the liquid heat blasts directly into my cervical hole this time. As thickness gushes into me, flooding the organ behind my bladder, my pussy contracts around the spadix, gripping it like a fist holding onto a pullup bar for dear life, and this time it doesn’t relax…
My limbs feel like noodles so, even if I wanted to shimmy back until this thing slides out of me, I can’t. All I can do is lie here, squirming restlessly. The unyielding orgasm has my immobilized body trembling while the plant pulsates inside of my still clenched cavity like the heart of a running cheetah, each throb pumping a viscous geyser of what feels like warm honey straight into my womb. To have that toasty thickness spreading across the untouched regions of my uterus, feeling that flesh chamber expand as it’s flooded with this plants ejaculate—it’s one of the best things I’ve ever felt, and it makes me come all over again.
As the pressure of the viscous jet finally wanes after the fourth blast, the spadix suddenly swells inside my vagina like a rapidly expanding water balloon, stretching me almost like that too-wide eggplant that I forced into my tight hole a few weeks back. And, as it somehow becomes more and more engorged by the second, there’s suddenly a strange tickling sensation that quickly moves from inside my cervical hole to deep inside my womb.
Having stickiness dripping deep inside of me is probably what’s tickling me, I think, trying to make sense of what I’m feeling.
That’s when something that feels like multiple thin noodles begins dragging across my uterine walls. At that moment, the image of those clear vines that I saw coming out of the plant’s sap hole pops into my mind. Now I’m imagining that the plant’s ejaculate carried the vines through my cervix and into my womb. Whatever the case may be, the foreign sensation feels too fucking good to worry about.
The pressure from having the plant’s phallus still expanding inside of me doesn’t feel as pleasurable anymore. Being stretched like that is actually starting to feel really uncomfortable.
How is this fucking plant still swelling? With all the syrupy goodness it pumped into me, it should be shriveling up from having nothing left.
I squeeze my abdominal muscles and push like I’m trying to give birth but, even as lubed up as it is, the plant doesn’t launch out of me the way bananas, cucumbers, and eggplants do when I Kegel like this.
Guess I have to pull it out…
I don’t know if I’m drained from the orgasm or if this sap contains a sedative, but blissful drowsiness suddenly washes over me and I feel extremely sedated. It takes everything in me to lift my arm and reach between my legs. When my fingers meet the inch or so of the spadix that’s not buried in my still clenched cunt, I’m shocked to find that it’s twice as wide around as it was before.
I can’t even wrap my hand all the way around it anymore… Not only is it girthier, but the petals that once formed a tight, narrow skirt around the stalk now feels like they have become more rigid and unfurled a bit. What the hell? It’s blossoming inside of me?
“This skirted arum flower is full of surprises,” I whisper sleepily as I curl my pointer and thumb around the apple-wide shaft right behind where the petals are growing out of it.
Not only is the spadix wedged against my still clenched vagina’s walls, but the slickness that gushed out and coated the plant makes it too slippery to grip. Every time I try pulling it out, my hand glides off of it. Since I don’t want to hurt the flower by squeezing it too hard, I instead opt to reach down with both hands to see if I can pinch it by the firm petals and pull it out that way. Except, when I start tugging, it barely moves half a centimeter before it stops budging. And when I pull harder, fear of ripping off the albeit sturdy petals makes me give up. Because I don’t want it out of me bad enough that I’m willing to damage this marvelous plant.
It’s not like I don’t stuff my cunt full of leaves, veggies, and fruit for hours at a time on a regular day, so if I don’t get it out right away that won’t be the worst thing in the world.
My finger traces the slit between where my taut labia and the engorged spadix meet. When I try slipping my finger between them to see if I can pull myself open wide enough to maybe help push the spadix out, I can’t even slide it in a little. Not only is the grip my pussy has on the phallus way too tight, but there’s some squishy gunk that feels like chewed gum adhering my flesh to the plant.
“Hmm…” Maybe I can pull it by the stalk…
My fingers caress their way down a stiff petal that now feels like a thin, flexed muscle. Just as my digits slip between the gap between the petals, there’s a loud squish of a pop and I feel the girthy stalk slap against my fingers as it’s ejected from the flower’s center like a hot dog out of a canon.
Using what little strength I can muster, I brush the auburn hairs from my face then I fight against the intensifying drowsiness to force myself to sit up and look down between my spread legs. Jutting out of the soil between my thighs is the now limp, wrinkled white stalk. It’s bent towards me and there is an off-white, creamy sludge oozing out of the wide hole in the center of it.
So, the stalk shriveled but the spadix and petals plumped up?
The length of the stalk doesn’t seem right. It’s somehow still almost three-quarters of the plant’s full height from the base of the stalk to where the tip of the spadix was even though the rest of the plant is still in me.
It’s almost like it ejected its entire core to hollow itself out, which means there should be a deep hole that leads from the flower’s center to the opening in the spadix’s crown…
Now I look down at the flower sticking out of me. All but one inch of the eight-inch-long spadix is exposed from my splayed open pussy. The brown and pink meaty curtains of my inner labia are each clung against a separate petal and, when I try to lift my vaginal lips off of them, they don’t budge.
It’s like they’re glued to the petals with the dried sap…
At the base of the spadix, the waxy, pale petals are gaped open like the starfish-shaped mouth of some monster. It’s freaky looking, but it looks like a flower is sprouting out of my coochie and, as an Ecosexual, that’s a huge turn-on for me.
As I slip my fingers between two of the five partially blossomed petals, I don’t find the rest of the stalk, as expected. Instead, my middle finger pushes right into a humid, slimy, fleshy hole at the flower’s center. The tubular cavity that my digit glides into feels just as soft and slick inside as the underside of the petals, and it’s so tight that it hugs my skinny finger with the kind of pressure that’d likely make a man cum in two strokes.
Gosh, it feels like I’m fingering another woman—a woman whose pussy is tight like a slightly relaxed butthole filled with aloe vera slime… A moan escapes me.
As I plunge my finger deeper into the vagina-like hole in the center of the petals to see how deep it goes, three fleshy petals close around my hand like a starfish trying to hug me. Considering that I’m knuckle deep and the top of my palm is mashed against where the petals converge, this squishy hole must go all the way into the middle of the phallus that’s swollen inside of me. Hell, it probably goes all the way to the opening pressed against my cervix.
Upon pulling my finger out of the flower’s tightness, I find that my digit is not only completely covered with that same mayonnaise-like goo I saw oozing out of the stalk, but it’s also glazed with a clear coating of yellow sap. Since there’s no way all of that sap and white gunk came out of the spadix, there has to be another part of the flower underground where all of this fluid was stored.
Since I already licked up the first secretion this plant oozed out, I figure why not taste the new goo. So, as I lay back down, I suck the stuff I just fingered out of this plant’s new hole off of my finger. The honey and candied cherry-flavored sap coating the outside quickly gives way to this very earthy, gritty, and sort of bitter paste. I don’t hate it, but I don’t love it either.
As my tongue slithers around my middle finger to clean off the rest of the bland gunk plastered on my digit like cake icing, the discomfort from being stretched out by an engorged plant diminishes a bit. It doesn’t feel like the spadix has deflated at all, but it does feel like my vaginal walls are finally relaxing around the phallus. And now that I’m not uncomfortable anymore, the thought of being stuffed with a cock-shaped plant that’s plugging me up with all of that sap and cream makes me horny all over again.
So, instead of attempting to pull this swollen spadix out of my cavity, I just lay here atop the mound of soil with my eyes closed, rubbing my clit to the memory of the beautiful sexual experience I just shared with this phallic flower.
Minutes later, I go from delicately rubbing my needy little nub to just lying there with my fingers resting on my pubic mound as I begin dozing off. And, just as sleep is taking hold, every inch of flesh inside my pussy begins to tingle…