Rough with Bark, Wet with Sap
Copyright © Emmi Lawrence
All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission from the author.
Mini (Approx. 1100)
He was like the others, all muscle and sweat, the axe in his hands worn from use. Hesha ducked back behind her tree, letting her body blend with its bark. She held her breath as his crashing steps came closer. Then his warm hand touched her tree. She felt it though she stood upon the opposite side.
Hesha closed her eyes and prayed he’d go, prayed he’d not taken a liking to her home. Then she heard the distinct sound of the axe head smacking into one of her roots.
Her scream echoed through the branches above and she danced around the trunk, throwing herself between it and the man. He stepped back, surprised, but not overly so. He’d been leaning against the axe, the head simply dropped to provide him some support.
“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t hurt it.”
He glanced down at the axe, then quickly pulled it out of the root it’d nicked. “My apologies,” he said, “I didn’t mean to harm the tree.”
Yet, thought Hesha. She stood shivering, partially in worry, partially in anticipation.
“Your tree,” he corrected.
“My tree,” she whispered.
“This forest is riddled with dryads. It’s a pain to differentiate them.”
Hesha flinched and pressed against her tree. She’d rather if the wood-cutters didn’t have to cut any trees down, but they were far past that. Now, her and her people simply begged and bartered for their own trees. But she was tired of bartering, tired of begging.
She stepped closer to him. “I can, of course, make it up to you,” she whispered. She raised a hand, tentatively, ready to pull it back if he wasn’t amenable. But he didn’t budge as she touched his shirt, her fingers drifting lower until they caught on his belt. “What’s your name?”
“Fernand,” he said, voice heavy with lust.
Inside, Hesha began to relax, knowing her tree was likely safe now from this one. She was lucky. Some of the wood-cutters found dryad bodies to be disgusting.
“Fernand,” she repeated. “My name is Hesha.” She put her lips to his and opened a kiss.
She heard and felt the axe handle drop against the ground before Fernand gripped her shoulders and shoved her backwards against the bark of her tree. His fingers were rough against her bark-like skin and pulled at her leaf-like hair.
“You taste like wood,” he said as he pulled away.
She cringed outwardly and grabbed at his belt, not wanting to lose his attention. “Then don’t taste me,” she said. She dropped to her knees as she tugged his pants down enough his cock could be freed. She massaged him, carefully. Not wanting to hurt him. Not wanting him to turn and pick his axe back up. It still sat within easy reach.
Slowly, he hardened and he let out one grunt as he grabbed her head and pushed her face closer to him. Eyes flicking back towards his axe, she obliged to his wishes. She licked his head, working her way up his entire shaft.
“Your tongue is rough,” said Fernand.
“Do you not like it?” asked Hesha, pausing to look up at him with frightened eyes.
He considered her for a moment, then shook his head. “It’s different, but not unpleasant.”
She gave him a smile and turned her attention back to his cock, taking it into her mouth. She worked him slowly, speeding up by marginal increments until she could hear him grunting in a more regular manner. Until she could feel him yanking harder on her hair. She took him further then, into her throat, and wondering how he’d feel inside her.
Whether he’d be desperate like the last man, aching for release. Whether he’d be gentle like the man she’d had before that, desiring her and afraid of her at the same time. She knew he wouldn’t be like the first man she’d had; that man she’d barely felt at all, his cock too tiny to let her enjoy the rush of love-making against her tree.
Hesha pulled off of Fernand, standing as he made a sound of annoyance. Then she put a finger to his lips and stepped backwards until she was pressed against her tree again, the bark comforting. Fernand followed closely, pressing his body to her naked one. Then he gripped her thighs and lifted her up, his muscles bulging underneath his shirt.
He wasn’t slow, and nor was he gentle, as he shoved himself inside. Regardless, Hesha wrapped her legs about him and shivered in delight as he made that first thrust. She could smell the sweat of him, more now that he began to exert himself, pressing in and out of her well-sapped vagina. She tightened her muscles with every thrust, enjoying his grunts of enjoyment. Enjoying more than that.
The thrusts became harder, more feverish, his grunts turned into gasps and her own matched his. She wound her fingers into the back of his shirt, clutching at him, moaning for him to be harder, whispering that she was less flesh than human woman, she needed the hardness, the roughness, to feel him against the outer bark of her.
He laughed and moved even faster still, his worry of the harshness of her bark-like skin long forgotten in his lust and desire. Better for him.
Better for her.
When she began to come, Hesha tightened the grip she had with her legs about his middle, keeping him inside of her, not letting him free. She threw her head back against her tree. She closed her eyes and moaned loudly, huffing as Fernand continued to thrust into her, mixing her up and tossing her about.
She could sense him exploding within her in response to the contracting of her muscles. Could hear his gagging, choking noises. Could feel his fingers lose their grip upon her and his body begin to slump. But she ignored it all and kept moving along his length until she’d brought herself to a finish.
Then she shuddered in relief and exhaustion and pushed him away. He swung in the branches of her tree, his face blue, his cock still erect and dripping with their fluids. His axe too far when the branches wrapped about his neck.
“A pity,” Hesha whispered as her tree dropped his body. “He was by far the best out of all of them.”
When she felt rested enough to stand again, she took his axe and buried it. Afterwards, she dragged Fernand to the river, still smelling of sex, and tipped him into the river.
Then she went back to her tree.
And waited for the next dangerous axe to come through and satisfy her.