Tree Hugger by Satellie Lee

The Smut Team decided early on that erotic fiction would be a staple of this publication and we are pleased to present our first installment! Hope you all enjoy.


Tree Hugger
by Satellite Lee.


I'm no hippy, but I always have loved the embrace of a tree. The tree alone may not fulfill my ravenous lust but, rather its presence adds greatly to my sexual fulfillment. I enjoy the gnarled, arthritic branches and wispy tendrils of a willow tree, a chaste canopy for my filthy secrets, my bloodlust.
I led you to the epic willow in your old back yard. The crunching of leaves beneath us and breathing the autumnal air made my breath staccato with excitement as I pressed myself against your painfully hard erection, its force creating a tent-like protrusion through your corduroy trousers. The dusky sun was fluttering over us, casting strobe-like shadows through the branches. You ripped my dress, chiffon at my ankles, while keeping your clothes on.
My back became raw with the repetitive scraping of chipping bark as I kissed you, your mouth sweet and sharp like brandy. Your lips two swollen leeches ready to usurp and slurp my cunt until I squirmed and moaned and demanded you take me. I felt my stilettos sinking into cool, thick moss amidst twisted roots. Without looking behind me, I explored the old trunk with my fingers and tore a sharp piece of bark off -- rough on one side, slimy on the other. I put it in your mouth. You were at first perplexed, but ignored it through passion and soon, it sat like a lozenge between your gum and cheek, infusing our kisses with the taste of firewood. My writhing shoulder blades chipped away at the bark, pieces clumsily raining upon us as you thrust into me, harder and harder, my cervix tender, pounded with the reverb of my back against the tree. My head was hitting the trunk so hard, but I didn't care. My hair stuck to the jagged surface. It only added to the sensory bliss I was experiencing.
You managed to tear a willow vine off a low branch. You knew what I wanted. You gagged me with the vine, forcing it into my mouth while I played coy like a horse reluctantly biting its bit. You walked around the tree a few times, meticulously, tying me to the tree while gagging me with this leafy vine. The crispy dry leaves made me cough, but the fresh and succulent vine shaft was delightful to taste and bite on. Then you came at me like a rabid dog, a sick and knowing look peering out from your brooding brow. Back for more. My body shook with pleasure before you even touched me. You loved to torture me-- slowly creeping one inch in ... two inches ... teasing with circular motions around my opening ... pull it out, repeat, BAM five more inches. It hit me so hard I let out an abstract vocal noise I had no intention of making.
I came so hard, I bit down and liberated my mouth from the vine's boa constrictor-like grip. I yelped and slowly sank to the ground, a faint trail of blood following me down the trunk. You stood there, proudly looking down at me. You finally knelt at my side and together we lay down in the moss, leaves in my hair, twigs tucked in your suspenders.