It's been weeks, and my humiliation over Phil leaving me feels just as fresh as it did the moment he walked out of my apartment for the last time. I can't help but replay our final conversation in my head, when he gave me that tired line: It's not you, Annette. It's me.

I'm full of self-loathing for missing him. No doubt he's moved on to some other woman already. But while my affection for the man has turned brittle, ready to disintegrate entirely, my body still craves his hands, his mouth.

His cock.

I ache for that gentle dominance, the way he could control me with a mere touch. Even now, I get wet remembering how effortlessly he brought me to orgasm. 

My fingers trail along my bare skin, between my breasts and down to my belly. I'm shamelessly naked, sprawled out on the grass. I can indulge in such an act since I have the place all to myself.

My good friend, knowing of my grief in losing Phil, offered me the use of her cottage in the country. No one else for miles around. Last night, soon after arriving here, I climbed into the four-poster bed and slept soundly. I woke late and lingered over coffee, then stepped out into the backyard.

I found the June day uncharacteristically mild, with low humidity and a light breeze. Birdsong greeted me from the surrounding woods. It was strange to feel playful after wallowing in sorrow. I didn't hesitate to strip off my clothes and let the sun warm every inch of me.

Now, I stretch languidly and ignore my stomach's rumbling for lunch. The shade of nearby oak and hickory trees falls upon my body; I feel my nipples harden in the sudden chill. But I'm too comfortable to move, too close to sleep.

My eyelids grow heavy. My breaths are even and deep. Losing the impulse to masturbate, I rest my hand on my stomach. I like the reassuring weight of my palm.

Only when I feel something slither over my ankle do I open my eyes. My brain sends out a single alarm: snake. Lifting my head in panic, I look down to see a vine draped over my right leg. Its leaves flutter against my flesh.

My brow furrows. The vine extends all the way into the woods, along the forest floor and out of sight. How could I not have noticed it when I first lay down? It must be some creeping plant, inching along my friend's small lawn. The leaves are thick and smooth; I imagine they're silky to the touch. And along the vine are weird appendages, the likes of which I've never seen on a plant. There are firm buds, almost perfectly round and quite large. I spot a weird, dark green stalk that reminds me of a cucumber. Then another, longer and more slender. 

The vine is also adorned with sucker-like appendages. I swear I see, and feel, one of those suckers latch onto my inner thigh, just above my knee. Frantically, I shake off the vine and it slides to the ground.

My face burns with embarrassment. Cupping a hand over my eyes, I mutter, "You're losing your mind, Annette! And over some asshole who probably cheated on you during your entire relationship."

Releasing a disgusted sigh, I settle onto the grass again. I make a mental note to tell my friend she has an invasive plant ready to take over her backyard.

And then I doze off once more.

I dream I'm being restrained, the way Phil used to bind me with rope. My wrists are pinned, rendering my hands useless. My legs are spread wide, the way he loved to see me, with my dripping pussy on display. 

The sound of my needy moan stirs me from sleep. Keeping my eyes closed, I smile and whisper, "Phil..."

He's between my thighs, stroking and licking. 

"Oh, that feels so good, baby." I don't know why he's come back, or how I've managed to forgive him. All I know is that I'm desperate to climax. My body has been starving for weeks.

I'm suddenly aware of another restraint, this one across my upper arms and breasts. I'm totally at Phil's mercy. My pussy throbs from that realization.

I need to see him. I want to see those dark blue eyes gazing up at me while his tongue flicks over my clit. My thighs are already shuddering, for he's pleasuring me at a superhuman speed.

Finally, I open my eyes. I lift my head and look down. 

And I scream.

It isn't just one vine now, but several: vines circling my wrists and ankles, wrapping around my breasts and torso. And the main vine, with all the appendages, is between my legs. 

I let out a helpless sob, afraid I really have gone insane. In response, the vine's thick, almost rubbery leaf stops attending to my clit. I get the strange sense that it's waiting for my next reaction.

My tousled brown curls frame my face and cling to my damp forehead. I wrench against the vine to free my hand, but discover I'm held fast. As if to mock my distress, my nipples remain hard. One of the vine's suckers draws closer to that rosy peak.

This is wrong, I tell myself. It's unnatural. 

It's also impossible. "I'm still dreaming," I say, over and over. "None of this is real."

The only thing that feels real is the way my clitoris pulses and twitches. Maybe I'm sick in the head, but I yearn for more stimulation. I'd do anything for it.

Staring down at the vine, I'm shocked to hear myself say, "Don't stop. Make me come."

I watch as the leaf returns to its work, practically vibrating against my swollen nub. 

"Fuck yes!" I no longer struggle against my restraints, and when the suckers latch on to my nipples, I cry out in pleasure. They nurse so fervently that I'm sure I'll be left with a hickey on each tit.

My orgasm soon slams into me, choking off my voice, but the plant continues its licking. My empty pussy clenches and spasms, eager to be filled.

It's as if my verdant lover can sense my need, for in moments, its tongue has slowed, and I feel that round bud at my entrance. The sensation makes me gasp. I wonder if my cunt can handle such an intrusion.

But I'm so wet that my lubrication has trickled down my ass crack. The plant appears to tremble while working that knob into my pussy. I experience a twinge of pain before the pressure against my G-spot causes me to tremble as well. 

"Please," I beg, as if the plant can understand me. 

And maybe it can, for that thick cucumber-like appendage advances toward my opening. I start to shake my head; there's no way I can take both!

But then I feel it probing my flesh, spreading me apart. I groan and nod, and the girthy part of the plant inches deeper. In moments, it's nestled against the bud still inside me.

When they both start moving, I release a yelp, then a whimper. The plant fucks me like a machine, its stalk and knob twisting and thrusting. 

"Fuuucck!" I want to buck my hips; I want to join in this filthy, perverted act.

The plant's restraint keeps firm. When its suckers slip from my breasts, I see that my nipples are almost comically elongated.

The pressure inside me builds. I fear the contractions of a climax now that I'm stuffed so full. Yet I surrender to each wave, pain causing bursts of light behind my closed lids. Despite the brief agony, my body continues gripping the plant until bliss obliterates any discomfort.

I scream again, the sound tearing from my throat as I squirt. It's never happened to me before, not even with Phil. I drench my skin, the plant, and the grass below us.

The plant grows still but doesn't withdraw. I sense it's giving me time to recover. Falling back, I gaze up at the sky while panting. My pussy feels wrecked, stretched beyond all proportion. I try to picture what it must look like, penetrated by vines and stalk and bud. The mental image makes me shiver with fresh pleasure.

My eyes widen as I feel a prodding at my asshole. Quickly, I lift my head and find the plant has the narrower stalk at my other opening. 

"You want my ass, too?" I whimper.

Again it waits. And again I nod.

Somehow, it manages to enter me without causing pain. The pressure in my cunt only intensifies as the slender appendage claims my ass inch by inch. Perhaps I'm being anthropomorphic, but I detect a teasing quality in the way the plant gives my clit several licks. The suckers nurse at my tits yet again.

I always believed Phil pushed me to the height of pleasure, and I'd never find another like him. But he couldn't come within miles of offering this rapture!

I try to clench my pussy and asshole, but I'm too full. The plant withdraws the larger stalk from my pussy, then removes the bud as well. Before I can whine in protest, it drives the stalk back inside me, and I'm being fucked in both my cunt and ass with deep, rhythmic thrusts.

As someone who never much cared for anal sex, I'm shocked at the way my body now responds. Only a thin wall of flesh separates the two appendages inside me, and the sensation shreds the last of my dignity.

"Fuck my holes!" I groan. "Ruin me! My God, I love how you've stuffed me so full!"

The plant leaf works at my clit with seeming enthusiasm. My cries morph into screams as I come again and again. I'm soon covered in sweat, shaking uncontrollably. 

My ass grows tender, and my cunt aches from such a fierce fucking. Still, I can't bring myself to say stop. Part of me never wants this to end.

I've lost count of my orgasms by the time the plant's fucking reaches a brutal pace. Eerily similar to a man, it speeds up and then halts.

I feel a splash of liquid coating my inner walls. I swear it douses my cervix. My body, in its revelry, offers up a final orgasm.

Afterward, the plant lingers within me. Lifting my head as far as I can, I extend my tongue. One of the suckers loosens its latch on my breast and then travels up to my mouth. I moan, feeling shameful, even aberrant.

But I let my green-leafed lover suck on my tongue. I let it position another sucker on my clit.

I let it play with me for what feels like hours. I'm starving, parched with thirst, when it eventually withdraws. I smile as its leaves give my thighs a parting caress.

Then it retreats into the woods, and I resist the crazy urge to follow.

That night, after I've eaten and gulped down enough water to ward off dehydration, and after a hot, relaxing bath to soothe my well-fucked holes, I open the bedroom window. Peering into the darkness, I swear I hear a rustle. I'm sure I see a serpentine movement in the moonlight.

I quickly strip naked. The bed beckons to me, and I stretch out upon it, my legs spread wide.

And I wait for my lover to return.