She hugs me the moment she sees me. 

How friendly, I think. 

“You have the thickest trunk I’ve ever seen,” she purrs. 

She’s nice. The willow weeps in envy. 

The straps of her tank slip off her shoulders. Must be the wind. 

Surely an accident when her nipples brush against me. They are quite pointy. 

And when she sheds her daisy dukes, the pines shed their needles.

Now, she clings like a cicada. I can barely tolerate her. 

But when she begins humping me, I draw the line. For goodness sake, the saplings are watching. 

“Boundaries!” I bark.