tore off his last item of clothing.
“Guys I'm sorry, but this is just too...freaky for me.” Chris's voice barely registered. “I'm going to go wait with the driver.”
On either side of him Fowler saw Miller and Terry carried up and away in the embrace of two of the plant girls. His girl waited for him, arms outstretched, at the edge of the platform.
“Climb in,” the girl said in a voice that seemed to be both there and simultaneously an echo from a great distance away.
Fowler scooted to the edge of the platform on his butt and sat with his legs over the edge. He looked like someone about to enter a swimming pool but trying to delay the shock of actually entering the cold water.
His naked foot rested on the fleshy hoop of the opening. He dropped his other foot over the rim. The inside of the pitcher felt warm and moist.
“Yes, a little closer,” the girl pleaded. “My soft embrace waits for you.”
His second foot slipped over the rim.
Fuck it.
Fowler pushed himself off the platform's edge and fell forward into her embrace. His feet slid down the inside of her pitcher until they came to rest on a spongy material at the bottom. It felt like two legs wrapping around him as the opening to the pitcher closed around his midriff. Her arms wrapped around his upper body and drew him tight to her body. He felt her soft breasts against his chest.
A hand moved up his back, gripped the back of his head and pushed him forward into a kiss that flooded his body with the scent of a meadow on a warm summer morning. Fowler didn't even notice as the girl took him up and away from the platform edge.
“That was...wonderful,” Fowler said after she finally broke off the kiss. “What's your name?”
The girl looked puzzled at the question, as if the concept of name might have meant something to her in the past, but now no longer held any meaning.
Fowler tried again.
“I'm James and you are?”
“Your pleasure,” the girl replied. She gripped his shoulders and began to massage them while rubbing her breasts against his chest in circular movements.
That she certainly was, Fowler thought. Those hands were expert, finding and kneading out every little knot in the muscles of his neck and back. And those breasts...fuck names when she was doing this to him.
There was still something not right and it involved Fowler's cock. Currently it was as hard as an iron bar and lying flat against his belly. So how exactly was he supposed to fuck her?
“Um, this is lovely,” Fowler said. “But how do I make love to you?”
The girl put her hands on his shoulders, looked into his eyes and smiled. She relaxed the opening of the pitcher, letting Fowler fall back a little. She reached in and put a hand around Fowler's erect cock. Then she contracted the opening, pulling Fowler forward. As she pulled him closer she guided the head of his cock into a tight channel filled with thick syrupy liquid just beneath the opening to her pitcher.
Fuck, that felt good, Fowler thought.
He flexed his buttocks and began to thrust into the honey-filled hole. Thick syrup oozed out and dribbled onto his legs. He felt a tightness across his buttocks and realised she had closed the opening around him and was helping him thrust into her.
Fuck, that felt fucking good.
The cushioned hoop of the opening felt like strong legs wrapped around his buttocks, driving him on. She wrapped her arms around his upper body and drew him close for another passionate kiss. Her midriff moved sinuously against his as he thrust in and out of the honeyed well in her inner wall.
He was still kissing her when he opened one eye and saw the tangle of vines that suspended her were trembling with some kind of internal tension. He watched as the walls of the vine swelled and the swelling passed downwards. A warm sticky liquid welled up between his toes and lapped at the top of his feet.
“What's this?” Fowler asked, apprehensive. Chris's comments about carnivorous plants and
“Guys I'm sorry, but this is just too...freaky for me.” Chris's voice barely registered. “I'm going to go wait with the driver.”
On either side of him Fowler saw Miller and Terry carried up and away in the embrace of two of the plant girls. His girl waited for him, arms outstretched, at the edge of the platform.
“Climb in,” the girl said in a voice that seemed to be both there and simultaneously an echo from a great distance away.
Fowler scooted to the edge of the platform on his butt and sat with his legs over the edge. He looked like someone about to enter a swimming pool but trying to delay the shock of actually entering the cold water.
His naked foot rested on the fleshy hoop of the opening. He dropped his other foot over the rim. The inside of the pitcher felt warm and moist.
“Yes, a little closer,” the girl pleaded. “My soft embrace waits for you.”
His second foot slipped over the rim.
Fuck it.
Fowler pushed himself off the platform's edge and fell forward into her embrace. His feet slid down the inside of her pitcher until they came to rest on a spongy material at the bottom. It felt like two legs wrapping around him as the opening to the pitcher closed around his midriff. Her arms wrapped around his upper body and drew him tight to her body. He felt her soft breasts against his chest.
A hand moved up his back, gripped the back of his head and pushed him forward into a kiss that flooded his body with the scent of a meadow on a warm summer morning. Fowler didn't even notice as the girl took him up and away from the platform edge.
“That was...wonderful,” Fowler said after she finally broke off the kiss. “What's your name?”
The girl looked puzzled at the question, as if the concept of name might have meant something to her in the past, but now no longer held any meaning.
Fowler tried again.
“I'm James and you are?”
“Your pleasure,” the girl replied. She gripped his shoulders and began to massage them while rubbing her breasts against his chest in circular movements.
That she certainly was, Fowler thought. Those hands were expert, finding and kneading out every little knot in the muscles of his neck and back. And those breasts...fuck names when she was doing this to him.
There was still something not right and it involved Fowler's cock. Currently it was as hard as an iron bar and lying flat against his belly. So how exactly was he supposed to fuck her?
“Um, this is lovely,” Fowler said. “But how do I make love to you?”
The girl put her hands on his shoulders, looked into his eyes and smiled. She relaxed the opening of the pitcher, letting Fowler fall back a little. She reached in and put a hand around Fowler's erect cock. Then she contracted the opening, pulling Fowler forward. As she pulled him closer she guided the head of his cock into a tight channel filled with thick syrupy liquid just beneath the opening to her pitcher.
Fuck, that felt good, Fowler thought.
He flexed his buttocks and began to thrust into the honey-filled hole. Thick syrup oozed out and dribbled onto his legs. He felt a tightness across his buttocks and realised she had closed the opening around him and was helping him thrust into her.
Fuck, that felt fucking good.
The cushioned hoop of the opening felt like strong legs wrapped around his buttocks, driving him on. She wrapped her arms around his upper body and drew him close for another passionate kiss. Her midriff moved sinuously against his as he thrust in and out of the honeyed well in her inner wall.
He was still kissing her when he opened one eye and saw the tangle of vines that suspended her were trembling with some kind of internal tension. He watched as the walls of the vine swelled and the swelling passed downwards. A warm sticky liquid welled up between his toes and lapped at the top of his feet.
“What's this?” Fowler asked, apprehensive. Chris's comments about carnivorous plants and
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