It happens once a month. Every 29 days, 12 hours, 44 minutes to be exact. 12 times a year, except for roughly every 2.5 years, then there is a 13th. That one is always the best, the extra one. I look forward to it, but fear it at the same time. No, it’s not my period; this thing is way more predictable than that. I have tried not to go out to the clearing in the woods, but I just can’t resist. It still scares me a little, but it excites me more than anything I have ever experienced. 

I remember exactly when it all started. It was my first semester of college. I went out one night with some friends before finals, just to blow off a little steam. Being the only one in the group under twenty-one, I was the designated driver, which evidently gave the group permission to get shit-faced. My friends were fun drunks and usually didn’t start trouble, but when you are the only sober one, it can get a little annoying. 

I sat in a corner booth of a bar with my lemon water, watching my crew and feeling like a mother hen keeping eyes on her babies. Chris and Becca had been dating for years, and were at the bar laughing. Jennifer was flirting with some guy who was trying to teach her how to play pool, and Cara was nodding off next to me in the booth, looking a little pale. Finally, the bartender announced last call, and the crowd started thinning out a few minutes later. It was all I could do to corral the group into the car. 

On the drive home, Chris and Becca noticed the full moon and wanted to stop at the lookout spot just outside of town. With the music blaring, I turned off the paved road as dust trailed behind us and gravel crunched under the tires. The full moon loomed just above the tree line, slowly climbing, revealing itself, as if wanting to show us something. The unmarked road was well known to us locals and led to a secluded cliff, overlooking a wooded valley. From what I saw in the rear-view mirror, I knew Chris and Becca wanted to find a spot to make out, which left me to babysit Jennifer and Cara. 

As soon as we stopped, Chris and Becca jumped out of the car. They grabbed the blanket they were snuggled up under and took off into the woods. As they ran from the car, I noticed Chris’s pants were already undone, and Becca had left her panties on the floorboard. I looked back to see Jennifer roll her eyes and stretch out across the newly gained space in the backseat. Cara was already asleep in the front passenger seat beside me, so I turned off the engine and got out to enjoy the cool night air. 

I walked to the edge of the lookout, taking in the beauty of the valley stretching out before me. The crickets and tree frogs gently sang but were quickly drowned out by the sound of Chris and Becca rutting away in the bushes. Frustrated by their intrusion, I turned and walked down a path that led along the rim of the canyon to find some solitude. After walking a few minutes through fairly dense undergrowth, the path opened up into a clearing. The moonlight flooded through like a spotlight, illuminating the area.

As I walked into the clearing, I noticed the ground was covered with flowering vines that seemed to glow in the moonlight. Careful not to step on the flowers, I walked to the center of the clearing and turned to face the moon overhead. It was so big and bright, I could almost feel the light radiating from it. Then I felt something tickle my leg, thinking it was a bug, I reached down to swat it away, but realized it was one of the flowers touching me. I looked down and saw the flowers slowly turning to face me. I thought I was going crazy, but the longer I watched, I saw them all turn. They had been facing the moon as other flowers would face the sun to soak up its energy, but they were now facing me. The fragrance they emitted was subtle but lovely. I knelt down and brought one of the blooms to my nose and inhaled the scent. The sweet essence flooded my senses. I released the bloom and looked back at the full moon above me. I felt connected to both celestial bodies, the moon and the earth. I stretched my hands out to my sides and let my palms brush across the blooms around me. With no explanation or reason, I felt I belonged here. I felt comforted and cradled by the moonlight, the flowers, and the scent that surrounded me. 

Once again, the serenity was shattered by the sound of drunk, clumsy feet crashing through the bushes, and a slurred voice yelling my name.

“Michelle, where the hell are you?”

Becca came stumbling into the clearing, trampling the flowers, and almost falling on top of me. Her presence was obscene, shattering the moment as if someone had thrown a brick through a window. I looked down and saw the flowers were no longer reactive to me, but were lying limp, almost wilted on the ground. The moonlight even seemed less bright with her presence. I slowly stood and helped Becca to her feet, resuming my babysitting duties, and I escorted her back up the path.

Jennifer and Cara were still asleep in the car, and Chris was bent over at the waist, throwing up in the bushes. The rest of the evening was uneventful. I took each of my friends home and made it back to my place a little before dawn. I slept most of the day away but had many dreams of the flowers in the clearing. 

All my friends were too hungover the next day to get together, which was fine with me. I was kind of sick of them at this point and needed some alone time. All I could think about was being back in the clearing in the woods. After I ate and showered, I drove back to the lookout and walked the path to the clearing. To my disappointment, there were no flowers or vines. The clearing was there, just as the previous night, and looked no different than the rest of the forest. I stayed there until it was dark, expecting something to happen, questioning my memory and sanity.

I spent the next few days going back to the clearing and feeling disappointed each time. I remembered the full moon and assumed that it had to be the key. It was the only factor that was missing, other than my drunk friends. I looked ahead at my calendar to see when the next full moon phase was expected. I had to wait three more weeks for the next one, and during that time, my excitement grew. As the day came closer, I found myself feeling giddy as if I were waiting for my prom date to arrive. I bought new clothes, fixed my hair, and drove out to the lookout well before sunset. I wore a loose and flowing bohemian sun dress that made me feel free. I sat in my car watching the sunset and waited for the full moon to rise above the trees. 

I was so excited for this day that I hadn’t slept much the night before. I started feeling sleepy and must have drifted off sitting in the car, waiting for the moon. I awoke an hour or so later to a bright full moon setting high in the sky, beckoning me to the clearing. Afraid I had missed my opportunity, I ran down the path to the clearing but paused just before entering. Doubts filled my mind. I felt like a crazy person, obsessed with something that I wasn’t quite sure had even happened. I almost turned and walked back to the car until the breeze shifted and I smelled the familiar fragrance again drifting through the air.

I slowly walked into the clearing and felt like I was reunited with an old friend. The moon was high, beaming down, illuminating the blossoms on the ground, and the forest was silent, reverent. I smiled as I carefully walked to the center of the opening and knelt down among the blooms as if I were entering a temple. I turned my face upward to the moon and felt the gentle touch of the flowers and vines against my legs. I wasn’t surprised by the sensation this time and did not brush them away. I felt what I assumed were the vines gently wrapping around my ankles and legs. Not trapping me but holding me in an embrace. I lowered my hands to the vines and felt them gently wrap around my fingers. They felt warm and familiar and were pulling me down to lie flat on my back, as if presenting me to the moon high overhead. I complied and felt the softness of the blossoms against my legs and arms as their scent filled my nostrils.

After a few moments, I felt the vines pulsing under me, alive, arousing. Nothing overly sexual but more sensual, an all-over massage relaxing me. Then I felt more movement under me. Something was just under the vines, within the earth, trying to break through the surface. I felt a panic rise in me and sat up, ready to get away if needed. The Vines released me as if they sensed my fear. I saw the earth mound up just inches from my feet as what looked like a human hand pushed through the dirt into the moonlight. I immediately thought of the zombie movies where the undead wanted to feast on my brain. I couldn’t stifle the scream as I scrambled to get out of the clearing and back to the trail.

I made it to the edge of the clearing and looked back to see the hand slowly retreat back into the earth. In the moonlight, I could tell it wasn’t decayed or rotted like in the movies. It was smooth and shiny. Thin, delicate even, moving with grace, not violence or malice. The vines had retreated from where the hand emerged, but were now closing back over the disturbed soil with its absence. Unable to make myself leave, I stood and watched as the blooms started to fade and wilt, and the sounds of the night forest returned around me.

I went back to the clearing the next morning, trying to find evidence to prove I wasn’t losing my mind. Again, I found no blossoms, vines, or upturned soil. I was ready to check myself into the local institution for evaluation, but I was too afraid to tell anyone what had happened. Too afraid that the memories would vanish as quickly as the sound of the words after they were spoken. So I obsessed for another twenty-seven days. I continued to have dreams of the clearing, the full moon, the blossoms, and the hand. They weren’t nightmares, but pleasant and strangely erotic dreams. I felt guilty, but I eagerly anticipated them before falling asleep each night. 

I always had this fantasy about being pampered and pleased by a harem of shirtless men as I relaxed under their skilled and attentive touch. I would imagine lying there as they undressed me and massaged me with exotic oils from head to toe. They would knead and press my flesh, lifting and rolling my limp body as they saw fit to touch and caress every inch of me. I would imagine seven or eight men doing things to me, rubbing, groping, and penetrating me until I had soaked the sheets, both in the fantasy and in reality. The hand in the clearing became my new fantasy. 

I could not masturbate enough to satisfy my excitement and anticipation leading up to the next full moon cycle. I was overwhelmed with desire and found myself rubbing and humping anything I could, whenever I could. I ran through several sets of batteries for my vibrator and surely gave my roommates reason to be concerned.

When the next moon cycle came around, I stood at the edge of the clearing in the same flowing dress. I listened to the crickets and watched for the moon to rise above the horizon. A dense cloud cover had been building throughout the day, and I was worried that the low visibility would dampen the moon’s effects on the blossoms and other anticipated events of the night. I could see the light through the clouds as the moon slowly ascended toward its zenith, and in the faint glow, I saw the vines and flowers reappear underfoot. I walked to the center of the clearing and knelt down to welcome them, and they came to me, caressing my skin as before. As I became aware of their scent, the ground under me began to split, and the hand slowly rose into the air, merely inches in front of me. I held back my panic and waited as the hand extended further from the soil, revealing a wrist, then a forearm, and an elbow.

There was no clawing or grabbing in its movements. No blind reaching or searching, it was aware of me and waited for me to move toward it. Standing up from the ground, palm open, it resembled a flower itself. I leaned forward to get a closer look. It was clean and didn’t look like something that had risen from the dirt. Timidly, I reached out and touched its outstretched index finger, immediately recoiling, expecting it to lunge forward and grab me, but it didn’t react. I reached out again and touched it. It felt warm and smooth. There was no hair or dirt, only smooth skin. Gaining confidence, I stretched my hand out around its wrist and felt what seemed like the same internal structure as my arm. I wondered if there was the rest of a body under the ground, but nothing beyond an elbow extended from the surface. I released its wrist and placed my open hand flat against its open hand so our palms and fingers mirrored each other. I was surprised and smiled a little when its fingers slowly curled and intertwined with mine. It moved as slowly as the blossoms and vines underneath me, with a gentle purpose. 

I felt as if I were having first contact with an alien or an until now unknown being. There was no rush or urgency in the moment, just connection. I noticed more movement around me as I saw three more hands start to emerge from the soil around me. Slowly, they sprouted from the soil and rose to greet me as the first one did. I released the grip on the first one and gently touched and held each of the new ones. They responded in kind with gentle touches and caresses of my skin. They seemed to crave contact. After a few minutes, they no longer waited for me to reach out to them but sought me out instead. I let them feel my wrists, arms, legs, ankles, and feet. Their touch was invigorating, and I soon found myself closing my eyes to experience all of it. I lifted my arms and face to the moon, enjoying the feeling of these hands eagerly exploring me.

I felt the hands move up my thighs and under my dress just as drops of rain began to fall from the heavy clouds overhead. I looked down and saw that several new hands had emerged from the soil to join the ones already making their way past my waist to my torso. I reached down to the hem of my dress and pulled it over my head to give them access. Tossing it to the side, I lifted my face to feel the rain splashing down on me. With arms outstretched, I accepted the sensations from above and below. I didn't care if it was real or imagined, either way, a deep longing was being satisfied by the experience, and I would see it through even if there was a straitjacket waiting after it was all over.

The hands applied just the right amount of pressure and somehow knew when I felt pain and pleasure and adjusted accordingly. They seemed to seek a response from me that quickly brought me to a heightened state of arousal. I leaned forward and rested my hands on the ground as I felt hands caressing my breasts. I felt them between my legs, on my thighs, and around my waist. My senses were bombarded as I felt all my erogenous zones simultaneously being stimulated. From the soles of my feet to my nipples and earlobes, I was on fire and overwhelmed. The hands worked in unison, seeking out pleasure spots and quickly had me on the verge of an orgasm. As the rain washed over me, I began panting and moaning as I felt pressure against my perineum and around my labia. I arched my back and looked to the sky as the convulsions of a full-body orgasm ripped through me. 

Up to this point, none of the hands had penetrated me, and I was amazed at what a strong orgasm they had elicited. I looked down and saw several hands massaging my breasts and working between my legs. As if they understood my thoughts, one of the hands extended its two middle fingers, and I lowered my hips to urge them inside of me. Within seconds, the fingers were curled slightly against my G-spot, and others were rubbing my clit in time with the internal stroking. I then felt more fingers pushing past the two that were already inside of me, deeper toward my cervix. As I bucked and rocked my hips, others squeezed my breasts and nipples, sending new shockwaves through my body. At this point, I had no idea what they were doing to me, and I didn't care. We were linked together in this feedback loop, building pleasure on pleasure as I hurtled toward another climax that had me screaming out into the rain. 

Unable to remain balanced on my hands and knees, I felt the hands lower me to the ground on my back to rest. I closed my eyes and felt the rain wash over me as the hands slowed to a gentle caress of my body. One by one, I felt them retreat back into the soil, leaving me on a cushion of vines and blossoms. I was a little disappointed with their absence, but I couldn’t handle much more attention.

My elevated body heat soon gave way to a chill from the rain and cool night air, so I retrieved my dress and started my way back to the car. My dress was soaked, but I luckily had some workout clothes and a gym towel in the car. I cranked the engine, put on dry clothes, and waited for the heater to warm me up. The pleasure of the moment outweighed how bizarre and unexplainable the whole situation was. I had never felt so good in all my life and didn’t want to question it. The hands didn’t hurt me, and I had this feeling that they wouldn’t. I needed some time to process what had happened, and I figured twenty-eight days or so should do it. 

Just as before, the anticipation for the next moon cycle was almost too much to handle. I readied myself as best I could and sat in the clearing after sunset, awaiting another encounter. This time, I was already on my back, naked, waiting, and dripping with arousal. I felt the first few hands emerge around my sides and embrace me as a lover would if they walked up behind me, pulling me into them. The other joined in by caressing my neck and thighs. Without hesitation, they spread my legs and lifted my feet in the air.  I looked down and saw many more hands this time, all working on me in unison. They were cupping my breasts, pinching my nipples, and massaging my vulva. 

I closed my eyes and gave in to the sensations. The hands were not in a hurry; they sensed my ebbs and flows and seemed to anticipate what I needed next. Eventually, I had fingers in my mouth, which I eagerly sucked on, fingers massaging my clit, and fingers penetrating me anally and vaginally. Through the evening, I was positioned on my knees with my ass in the air, on my knees vertically, and was even rolled over lying prone on my stomach. No matter the position, the hands brought me to several orgasms and eventually let me rest and recover.

It’s been going on like this for a few years, and I go to the clearing in the woods every full moon when possible. I’m married now, and I have never told my husband or anyone else about my secret place.  He has become suspicious of my disappearing once a month in the middle of the night. I have tried to use excuses like a friend having guy troubles and needing a shoulder to cry on, or that I’m just going out with the girls, but he is not buying it anymore. I don't know how to tell him, so tonight I’m going to take him to the clearing in the woods and let him see for himself.