I stepped out of the stream into the warm summer air. The water gurgled pleasingly behind me.
I stood on the smooth rocks on the shore and shook my legs before taking a step onto the grassy bank of the meadow. The water had been cold and bracing, but perfectly reviving.
I wrung the water from my hair, wiped most of it from my face, body and legs, appreciating the warmth of the sunshine. I breathed in the glorious air deeply, holding it for a second as I admired the nature around me.
I love being alone in this place, just me, the water, the small clearing surrounded by bushes and trees, the sounds of insects and birds. There’s something deeply magickal about being surrounded by nature, naked. Maybe it is the seclusion and tranquility, far from the usual daily din and pollution, that I find so vibrant and grounding, timeless. I come here to recharge, reconnect with my sense of self.
A Walk in the Woods
Still dripping slightly, I walked over to the nearby trees that surrounded the clearing, running my hands contemplatively over some tall grasses, yarrows and oxeye daisies. Bees flitted about, darting between buttercups and cowslips.
I scanned the copse, fascinated by the way the light dappled through the canopy, picking out delicate hues of green and brown, occasional fleeting silver shards from the birches. I continued walking in the shaded woodland and my eyes settled on an impressive alder – though in some way maybe it found me: I felt drawn to it, a deep compulsion to visit it. I reached out and touched the cool bark, partially covered in lichen and spongy moss; this simple act fired an emotion of warmth and profound beauty in me, almost like a tidal wave of pure love. I smiled at the tree and stepped in closer, my arms and legs finding space between some low level branches so I could embrace the trunk. The tree’s roots pushed into the ground, cast in a local emerald-green light. My feet carefully found a soft mossy patch between them at the base of the tree. I pushed away some of the hard cones with my toes and rested, sinking slightly into the damp velvety cushion.
The Alder
I squeezed, my fully naked body pressed lightly onto the tree, basking in the gnarled texture of the bark contrasting with my skin. I nuzzled my face against it, breathing in the sweet scent. I stayed in this position for a while, meditating, counting my breathing and feeling perfectly at ease with the sounds and scents of nature.
I heard a faint rustling like dry leaves in the breeze, nothing alarming but when I tried to pull away I found my arms pinned. The Alder’s branches seemed to hold my arms in place, locking my embrace. I glanced down at the ground and saw some vines or creepers moving perceptibly, silently snaking over my feet and winding their way up my legs. I felt sweat bead on my forehead and my heart began to race.
One supple branch of the vine found its way behind me, up the back of my legs, over my buttocks to stop at the small of my back. Another tendril swept up my inner thigh, soft and tender leaves unfurling as it did so.
The scent in the air changed, then something in my brain switched; the initial spike of panic was replaced with an ancient happiness, an eternal and welcome reassurance.
The Alder began to creak and groan. The delicate fronds between my thighs stroked seductively, relaxing my tension with a botanic caress. The soft leaves cupped my balls. The closeness began to arouse me, I felt my cock hardening, pushing past the living foliage and uncomfortably against the rough bark. The tree groaned further; the bark started to leak sap which beaded on its surface. With a definite cracking sound, the bark split; my cock sank into the very trunk of the tree, now open and sticky, slick with sap.
Entwined
Still unable to move, the tree began to breathe, the vines threaded me tighter into its rhythmic centre.
A chorus of birdsong erupted around me, butterflies in their hundreds gathered from the surroundings, landing on my arms and shoulders as the ancient Alder pulsed around my cock, squeezing, milking me. The tree increased its intensity. My vision blurred, flashed with blinding colours. The grip continued, unrelenting. The Alder’s lithe fibrous interior seemed to rotate around my cock, urging me onwards and I felt myself close to climax. The vines pulled my body closer, tighter, holding me warmly as I came inside the tree’s slick and weeping knot.
The creepers and leaves held me with a final reassurance and the core’s rhythmic tugging continued for several seconds. Then, the lingering tension broke, the vines fell away and I tripped backwards, stumbling away from the encounter and falling onto the meadow, sending the insects flying off into the air in a riot of colour.
My cock was covered in a sweet smelling amber residue; I propped myself up on my elbows and watched in astonishment as the opening in the bark closed up before my eyes, returning the Alder to its original state.
It stood calm and beautiful, a drying stain of sap the only evidence of what had taken place.