Congratulations on Getting That Tree to Love You Back!

You’re a dendrophiliac. It’s a lonely life, because trees, for the most part, can’t easily reciprocate love. They live outside, they have difficulty expressing consent, and much of their experience with romance involves being involuntarily involved in three-way sex which ends with humans carving hearts and sets of initials into their bark in the most painful way possible.

You’re a lot nicer about it. You softly stroke trees, whisper to them, and then rub their roots with teatree oil until they rustle, which you interpret as a tree orgasm. It’s actually just trees showing their arousal, but they appreciate your effort and attentiveness in general, despite their inability to communicate approval verbally.

They like the way you touch them, and tonight they’re finally, after months of slowly moving their branches towards your window, show you how much they appreciate it. They’re going to reach their branchy branches into your open window, rustle on down towards your body, get inside your pajama pants and start rubbing on your junk with their bark.

You’ll wake up with a raging hard on, bark rubbing your skin off your genitals so that pleasure and pain coalesce into the most delicious imaginable pool of fluids buttering your sex. It’ll be like a series of shocks guiding your brain in and out of states of alarm until, after fifteen minutes of overwhelming stimulus, you come all over those branches.

The three will then gently withdraw, quick as it can, which is incredibly slow by people standards. You’ll kiss and lick its branches as it passes your face, savoring the taste of yourself as it passes. You’ll smirk and throw your sheets back on yourself. You’ll resolve to sleep with your window open for every night left in the fall. When winter comes, you’ll have to make a difficult decision. It’s possible that the tree might not still be into you by then.

Congratulations on Getting That Tree to Love You Back!