by Susanne Mathies
(03/24/10)
Bawdy bending. Bowing stems pressed close to me. Pretending politeness, but touching me up.
"Off with you dried old sticks!" I know that good manners would be wasted on them.
The one next to me pretends to blush. What a wasted effort. His scrawny stem stays sallow. He moves back reluctantly. I hear him creaking. Pathetic little sod.
Ruby laughs, rustling his leaf next to mine. "You were looking lonely," he whispers, "So they hoped you might be desperate enough..." I sigh. "I was feeling lonely. You've been hanging out with Roddy's gang all day."
Ruby shrugs his crown. "They're a fun crowd."
"They hate me."
"Well, you creased Roddy's best friend, what do you expect?"
"I couldn't help myself. He was so supple and soft."
"You randy shoot!" Ruby is becoming interested. He leans closer. His big leaf wobbles, tips tickle the delicate area where my stem turns pale and branches out. Mmm. A delightful shiver seizes me. Garnet veins glisten on his skin. Bright and shiny.
"Like what you see?" Ruby murmurs huskily. His stalk is quite near to mine now. Will he stay to get in sway with me? I feel my juices flowing fast.
"Ruby, precious petiole," I whisper back, knowing well that Ruby admires intellectuals. "Russet rod, succulent stem..."
There -- our stalks are touching. Gliding against each other. Gliding up and down, glossy skins sliding, sliding, finding ridges to slither in. Juicy stalks pressing close, moving, stroking, rubbing...
A sudden movement on my other side.
"Barby, you hardy perennial," a sneering voice whispers right next to me, "Ready for a round of swinging? The more the merrier?"
I had not noticed Roddy moving up behind me. He must be up for his revenge. His thick stem is touching mine all the way now, bottom to top. I know I should stop now, escape to safety. But I cannot let go of Ruby, our two rods glued together in gooey passion. Roddy's stick is hot and thick at my back, riding along on our swaying. Hot and powerful. I feel my resistance melting, fibre coming apart... Being squashed between two pulsing rods. I know it, I feel it happening.
Sweet disintegration. Skin creasing, moisture on my skin. And swaying, swaying, swaying...oozing my juices, oozing away...
