The Yoni Flower (Plants of Pleasure Chapters 1-2)

Author’s Note: If you’re into plants that make women horny and phallic flowers capable of giving hot, voluminous creampies, this story is for you! This story takes place in the same world as Amazonian Womb Worms, about 10 months after Lena’s story ends. If you’re interested in cock-shaped worms fucking their way into wombs and turning them into sex-crazy nymphos, please feel free to check my profile and read that when you’re done here.

I’ll be posting more chapters on here over the coming weeks, but if you want the full novel, it’s out now, so check out my author page here at scirotic.com/bl-overman if you’re interested.

Happy reading!

Chapter 1 — Ecosexual

Saturday, May 28

There are roughly 611 miles of trail to explore in Olympic National Park, but here I am all alone and way off the official path, purposefully wandering deeper and deeper into this mossy wonderland. Not smart considering a thousand people have purportedly vanished without a trace here since 1916, but I wouldn’t be doing this if my dad hadn’t raised me from the age of seven to be an expert-level hiker and wilderness survivalist. And it’s not like this is my first time doing this. In the three years since turning 18, I’ve spent a few days per month purposefully losing myself in the wilderness. Because I love feeling like I’m discovering untouched pockets of nature where there are no other people—because I don’t particularly like most people, and I love being surrounded by plants.

The other reason I also really love hiking a lot? Because I eat like crazy and this is how I stay slim and fit.

To keep from getting lost forever, I try to follow one bearing on my compass each time I wander off-trail. For this adventure, that direction is northeast from where I deviated off of the Hoh River Trail. During my trailless adventure, I frequently use my cellphone to snap pictures of landmarks, then I update my topographical map with their approximate locations accordingly. On top of that, I also mark trees with this biodegradable, neon orange tape near said landmarks, just in case I lose the map or my three portable solar charges die on me. As an additional means of maintaining my bearings, I’ve also been hiking along this small stream I found about a mile off-trail, following it uphill through soft, dense ferns and clusters of moss-covered trees. Based upon the speed of the stream’s current, it’s safe to assume it’s leading me to a much larger body of water that I’m hoping is a hidden lake with crystal clear waters or a gorgeous waterfall—somewhere I can skinny dip and take a nice cool bath.

About two miles into the off-trail exploration, I discover a small, muddy clearing right where the stream has widened into a creek with slightly more turbulent waters. Perpendicular to it, there’s a gigantic, fallen log that’s overgrown with moss.

Oh, I want to lay across that so bad, I think, hurrying over to it.

The width of the horizontal lying trunk is, like, waist-high to me, so it takes a bit of effort to climb up on it. As I kneel against the damp, fuzzy carpet of moss, I hike up my skirt then straddle it like a horse.

After removing my backpack and dropping it onto the ground, I lean forward and lay belly down on the fallen tree, resting my cheek against the soft layer of spongy leaves as my arms wrap around the log. I don’t know if it’s because of how my panty-covered vagina just grinded against the moss just now or if it’s because of all these delicious earthy, floral smells in the air, but I just got super horny and damp out of nowhere…

While I lay here, all I can think about is sitting back up, pulling my panties aside, and grinding my bare pussy against this moss-covered wood, riding it like it’s a mechanical bull until I’m on the edge of climax. That’s when I’d lay on my back and finger-blast myself to completion.

As I’m sitting up to carry out my botanical fantasy, I spot this straight, branchless stick near the edge of the creek that is completely covered in moss.

Oh my gawd, I think, climbing off of the log and skipping over to it. Upon picking up the twig that’s as wide around as my pinky and about five inches long, I use two fingers to stroke it from mossy tip to mossy tip. There isn’t even a spec of wood visible through the green fuzz, and it’s smooth all the way down—not one sharp growth or bump sticking out of it. It’s perfect!

With my nature-provided sex toy in hand, I skip back to the log and straddle it just like before. Once I find a patch where the moss is thickest and the bark underneath is smoothest, I scoot up to it, pull my panties aside, and then I grind against it nice and slow, humping it the way I used to do with my pillow years ago. Having wet, fuzzy moss rubbing against my clit and brushing against my folds feels amazing, but it’s not enough. I need penetration, like, now.

After bucking against it for another minute or so, a climax starts to build, so I lay back and spread my labia apart before teasing my entrance with the smoothest end of the twig. “Ah,” I moan as I slowly impale my slick passage with the mossy stick.

Humping fallen moss-covered logs, diddling myself with sticks and stems—this is the other reason I like to wander off in the middle of nowhere all by myself like this. I’m what some would call an Ecosexual, meaning I have a kink for pleasuring myself with anything of the earth, especially when it’s the color of my eyes—green irises speckled with brown. Name a vegetable or fruit that’s long and somewhat tubular and I’ve probably masturbated with it. Carrots, bananas, Asian eggplant, and cucumbers are my usual go-to natural toys of choice. Their existence is the reason I don’t own a dildo. And for those fruits and veggies that aren’t shaped like dicks—such as apples, watermelons, and mangoes—I slice them up and either toy myself with them or I just slide them inside of me and birth them out over and over.

I’ve stuffed my hole with fresh leaves, flowers, roots, edible mushrooms, grapes, and even chestnuts that were still in their spiky husks.

One time, after purchasing veggies at an Asian market, I went into the bathroom then I shoved the dirty white bulb end of Bok Choy into my vagina. I spent all day walking around with it stuffed in me until I got home. That’s when I masturbated with it before sautéing it up for dinner.

I’ve masturbated with vines and even branches not covered in smooth moss.

I’ve fucked myself with the soil-caked bulb at the bottom of a tulip that I dug up from my garden, using that flower like it was a skinny dildo.

Sometimes I even like to pack my vagina with soil then finger myself until I’m gushing a muddy mess. That is, unless I find a nice patch of mud that smells deliciously earthy, then I just fill myself with muck and masturbate with my fingers or whatever is around.

This probably goes without saying, but sticking soil and unclean vegetation inside my vadge has obviously led to me popping antibiotics like vitamins a few times per year. It’s because my bizarre kink comes with the risk of frequent vaginal infections that I ended up befriending my OB/GYN, Dr. Sloane Quinn. And to keep from seeing her more than I need to, I’ve followed her instructions and started taking probiotic vaginal suppositories as a means of prophylaxis to lower my odds of infection. Thankfully, I did just that before leaving my tent this morning.

“Ugh-ah,” I groan when my climax nears critical mass.

Now I start rubbing my clit more vigorously while toying myself with a bit more speed, wincing from the friction of the twig’s now more noticeable roughness.

“AHH!” I scream as my toes curl and my vagina contracts around the stick. My body trembles so hard from the sweet release that I almost roll off the log.

It takes a few minutes after my orgasm before I can get myself to sit up. After fingering the bits of moss out of my pussy, I whip back my auburn curls, hop off the log, sling my pack over my shoulder, then continue along the creek.

About twenty minutes or so later, I start catching a whiff of something sweet that seems to get stronger every few feet. Why does it feel like I’m getting a buzz?

Five minutes later, I emerge from the dense brush and spot this mini waterfall where water is rushing down lush, green-carpeted rocks into a crystal-clear pond. It’s not until I approach the waterfall that I realize that the same wonderfully sweet scent I’ve been catching whiffs of for the last quarter mile is even stronger here, hanging over the area like an invisible cloud of the most delicious perfume.

“Mmmm,” I moan, taking a nice deep breath of the heavenly aroma.