Chapter 9
I am standing in a patch of grass surrounded by trees, a glade I guess, waiting to meet another clone of myself.
I check my Keyband and it confirms I'm in the right spot, and that Halley-22 is running late. I frown and hold in a yawn, I'm still tired from the night before. After leaving Bluebell's clinic I managed to wander back to Hank's Hideaway just in time to be introduced to a rowdy bar of regulars. A tipsy Hank and a shitfaced Freya insisted on putting me to work slinging booze to a crowd of Hank’s Salvager buddies, Freya's Spacer crewmates, and a collective of Purple District radical poets, who compared me to all manner of goofily flattering things. It was a fun night followed by a less fun morning, which began when Bluebell showed up bright and early to lead me to The Grove, fresh and buoyant from her morning milking. Grumbling, I followed the cheerful Blue cowgirl, now clopping around on her hooves like a pro, downhill and deeper into the Human part of the city.
Bluebell bought us tea and sweet cakes from a vendor, and then led me down a long winding set of steel stairs, around a tight corner between two towering rocket booster apartments, and onto a public cargo lift. From there I saw the Grove: a teardrop of green sprouting right out of a dense Flotsam neighbourhood, like an organic splash on the mesa city. From my vantage point on the descending lift, I could see a dense canopy of tall trees surrounded by a more open cluster of shorter trees that gradually thinned into a wide swath of meadow bordered by reflective metallic plinths. I gasped, shocked at the sight of greenery. Trees! And grass! And not piles of rusty space trash! I smiled in anticipation.
The lift crunched to a stop and Bluebell led me through a seemingly random series of paths, ladders, and cutbacks, until we walked through an abandoned building made of stacked steel ingots and emerged at the edge of the Grove meadow. A row of inaudibly humming seamless silver plinths marked an invisible line that the plant growth did not cross. Bluebell mooed happily and trotted right onto the grass. I followed, feeling something like a static charge as I passed through the invisible barrier. Bluebell, who had been wearing a loose cornflower gingham dress, had taken the garment off and was spreading it, reconfigured for size, as a blanket to sit on. The Blue cowgirl sprawled on the blanket, nude except for some little shorts, and basked happily in the sun. I tried not to stare at her four large breasts and udder as she mooed happily and told me she would wait for me. I consulted my Keyband for the coordinates GreenGurl sent me, and trial and errored my map dot to the right spot.
And now I am apparently being stood up by my own dang clone.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry....” comes my own voice and the sound of rustling bushes. Halley-22 stumbles into view and I gasp at the sight of her.
For one she is naked.
For another she is green.
I take a cleansing breath.
“Hi, welcome to the Grove!” Halley-22 has bright green skin and dark green eyes, nipples, lips, and labia. Her hair is that same dark green and hangs down to her ass in an unruly cape, chaotically woven through with braids, colored beads, and vines which sprout cute little white flowers. Her breasts are enormous, each as large as her head, and her hips have grown wider than her shoulders giving her an exaggerated hourglass figure. I notice she has tattoos in a vine motif all across her body, which I realize are actually living plants. Draped around her neck, wrists, and ankles are wooden and glass bead necklaces and bracelets in orange, yellow, and teal that contrast nicely with her emerald skin. The only garment she wears is a leather belt around her waist, with a kind of satchel pack that rides on the curve of her right hip. She is barefoot. Halley-22 totally has an Earth goddess slash flower child thing going on. It’s weird, but I kind of dig it?
Except... instead of being laid back and resonating with the universe, Halley-22 is giving off a decidedly tense, tightly wound energy. Which is making me a bit nervous.
“Sorry I’m late...” Halley looks away, visibly flushed. “I had to take care of... something.”
“It’s fine.” I say, too curious to be mad. “No big.”
Halley frowns, “Uh, just want to check, but you’ve been inoculated against the Sylvannic Funganoid, right?”
I nod, “I’m all up to date on my vaccines as of yesterday.”
Halley smiles and visibly relaxes the tiniest degree, “Oh good!” She steps forward and embraces me in a big, busty hug. A hug which lingers just a little longer than it should and did she just smell my hair?
She steps back, looks bashful. “I’m so glad you came,” she says. I think she’s blushing, but with her green skin it’s hard to tell. “Do you want to see my favourite spot in the Grove?”
“Sure, why not?” I reply, following Halley-22 deeper into the Grove. My green clone walks effortlessly through the woods, her wide ass barely disturbing a leaf. She reminds me of the deer that used to haunt the trailer park, a graceful creature in her own environment. I meanwhile stumble along like a clod, crashing through bushes, branches plucking at my new canary yellow dress. I’m less a forest deer than a lost and slightly drunk cow.
As I gracelessly trudge, I look around at the Grove. It’s honestly a bit surreal. The Flotsam mesa has such a dense strata of buildings that everywhere I’ve visited has been busy with people. To be walking along a not-quite-footpath, alone in the wilderness with a single guide is like being transported to another planet. It’s kind of nice? I take a deep breath of air heavy with plant smells. This place is so alive. I grin kind of stupidly, this is definitely nice.
Halley leads me up an incline and suddenly we are climbing stairs woven with thick vines. I blink my eyes to clear my head a little and notice a neighborhood of abandoned buildings barely hidden by the vegetation. Tree trunks push out through the broken windows of a car sized vehicle and stretch above our heads, while the collapsed remains of an A-frame home, not unlike Bluebell’s clinic, serves as a nursery for young trees and a thicket of bushes. A steel frame antenna acts as a trellis for growing vines covered in white seven petalled dogwood flower analogues. We climb over a thick root passing between two steel boiler tank buildings and enter a small cobbled plaza, like the one with the tea shop, except the stones are dislodged and warped by flowering shrubs and vines. The abandoned nature of the space is a bit haunting, but the flowers are very beautiful. Thick pollen fills the air.
I touch the leaf of a shrub as we pass, and pause to examine it. It has a three-pronged shape like a birds footprint with pointed tips. The edges of the leaf are serrated with that same shape repeated smaller, and the edges of the edges are jagged with yet tinier birdfeet, and so on, fractally, as far down as my eyes can see. I glance around and see that all the plants, the trees, shrubs, vines, even the grass, have leaves with the same shape. Even the vines growing on Halley match, and the flower petals in her hair are three-pronged and serrated. Something about this seems odd to me, like maybe it’s important somehow? I take a deep breath of sweet smelling air and try to just enjoy the moment.
Halley leads me to a tree growing against a corrugated steel wall, the back of a cargo container building. The green woman grabs a low hanging branch and lifts herself into the tree, smoothly climbing up a ladder of limbs. I look up, enjoying the sight of her wide, generous ass and the dark green slit of her vagina as she ascends. And did I just check out my clone? I give my head a shake. “C’mon slowpoke,” Halley taunts gayly from the building roof. I frown at the tree; when I decided to put on my new, pretty yellow dress today I wasn’t expecting to climb any trees. I glance around, hike up my skirt, tuck it into my underwear to keep it out of the way, and pull myself onto the tree. Halley-22 watches me intently while I climb, reaching out her hands and pulling me onto the roof. I stumble as I stand, falling into her nude embrace, our exposed thighs touching. We both laugh and I step back, fixing my dress. “Welcome,’ she says, eyes on me, “to my special place.”
I gasp. Framed by a thick patch of flowering plants is an astonishing view of the Grove and city. We must be high up slope, since I can see what seems like the entire Grove spread out below us, the tops of trees, patches of meadow, and a few built objects tall enough to thrust free of the vegetation. In the distance I can see the edges of the Grove, the row of silver plinths, and the return of inhabited buildings with their chaos of improvised shapes and brightly painted flourishes. In the far distance I can see where the city meets the Junk Desert, the almost abrupt transition from homes to tumbles of twisted metal stretching to the horizon. It really is very beautiful. “Dang...” I say.
Halley-22 is staring at me, green lips curled in a smile. She walks, wide hips swaying, to the edge of the roof and sits, legs dangling over the ege. I look down and see it’s a survivable drop to the ground below, and carefully sit next to her. She leans against me, her nude body warm against my bare arm. Up close like this I can smell her, a little musty with a tang like sweat or sex, but also a grassy, herby smell, and the cloyingly sweet scent of flowers. It must be the flowers growing in her hair. Her scent tickles my nose and makes my head swim a little. I feel like giggling. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
Halley pulls back from me, and when I turn, I find she is looking at me intently, face inches from mine. I stare into her green eyes and notice her irises are streaked with three-pronged shapes like the leaves, that the edges aren’t smooth, but jagged with fractals. Her pupils are very dilated. A green tongue slowly licks her lips. Her nostrils flare as she starts to breath faster and my heart is hammering in my chest. My head swims and I feel kind of high. Halley-22 leans forward and kisses me, hungrily on the mouth.
I yelp and pull back, nearly tumble from the roof, except Halley has held onto me. “What the fuck?”
Halley-22 is panting, large breasts surging, and her eyes spark with desire. “You turn me on so much,” she purrs, “I’m so horny right now.” She frowns and bites her lip, “Haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to fuck yourself?”
I’m panting too and I feel butterflies of arousal in my pelvis. Distantly I realise my underwear is wet. My green clone wants to fuck me? That’s super weird, right? But a rogue part of me whispers, what if it’s a good weird? With her voluptous green body Halley-22 is certainly sexy, and she’s obviously attracted to you. And why not? She knows exactly what you like and maybe this counts as some sort of futuristic masturbation. I stifle a moan, it has been a while since I remember last getting laid, and technically this clone of me is still a virgin. I shake my head, trying to clear it. “No, this is too weird...”
Halley-22 groans. “Come on,” she pleads. “You have nothing to worry about, you’re immune right?”
Wait, what? “The fuck?”
“The Sylvannic Funganoid,” Halkey gasps. “It’s sexually transmitted.”
And like a blast of cold water I’m not turned on anymore. Sexy times cancelled. With prejudice. “And you’re infected!”
“Of course!” She cups her huge green breasts and growls in frustration, “Isn’t it obvious!?”
I blink my eyes kind of stupidly. It is obvious. Halley-22 is extra curvy and green and... she is scooting back from the edge of the roof, on her back with legs spread and knees bent. Her dark green vulva glisten and a look of intense sexual need pinches her face. Her hand dips down to her sex, slides along her cleft, rubs her prominent knuckle of clit. Her hand repeats the motion, and she hums in pleasure, her other hand and arm clutching her breasts. Halley’s hand begins to move faster, stroking her cunt at an increasingly frantic pace. A rhythmic squelching and a floral, resinous smell fills the air. She whimpers and squirms. I know I’m blushing, and I wonder why I’m watching this, but I can’t look away. Halley-22 tips her head back and makes a kind of drawn out groaning sound as her whole body tenses and relaxes. My o-face reflected in green.
Halley-22 flops flat onto her back, taking deep breathes, large breasts raising and falling. Her legs, now flat on the ground, are still open, a puddle of fluid spreading from her still engorged cunt. “Sorry for that,” she eventually says, “it can get a bit too much for me sometimes.” Halley blows a big puff of breath, “I tried to take the edge off before you came.... but...” But Jilling off in the bushes wasn’t enough apparently. Maybe I should be flattered?
“What, what’s it like?”
Halley sits up, “To be infected?” She purses her generous green lips and thinks. “Well, I’m horny all of the time. All. Of. The. Time. Like, do you remember back when we were teens, still at St. Ursula’s orphanage?” The all girls orphanage that Halley-Prime lived in during her late teens. I nod, suspecting where this story is going. “When we shared a room with Patricia O’Mallory?” Beautiful, leggy Patty, our first big crush on another girl. “How we would wake up sometimes to hear her touching herself? And we would lie awake and listen to her masturbate, pretending to still be asleep so that she wouldn’t stop, the whole time wishing we were in that bed with her, making her make those little, hushed noises. But instead we would just lie there awake, well after she nodded off, thrumming with a desire we were too scared and confused to act on.” I blush and nod, remembering those nights, and how I ached with need, burned with intense frustration. “That feeling multiplied by five is my normal.” Holy shit!
“I just want to have sex all the time, with anyone. With everyone! The Sylvannic Funganoid wants to spread, after all.” Halley smiles with something like religious ecstasy, “And the orgasms! I’m told Grove disease rewrites the pleasure centers in the brain, making orgasms incredible. Mindblowing! Especially with another partner.” Halley smiles coyly, “Remember how we had to learn to find our orgasm when fucking a dude, and how much better sex got after we did? It’s like that: sex is on another level for me now.”
“You make being infected sound so glamorous...”
“Hales, I’m a nymphomaniac! Being this horny all the time is exhausting, and I have an almost irresistable urge to have sex with just about any willing partner. Which, I fucking love, but the rational part of me knows is icky. Plus it really fucks with normal human relationships: I just tried to fuck you, my own clone! Who I just met! It’s hard.” Halley-22 frowns, “And then there is what the Grove disease is doing to my body. The Sylvannic Funganoid consumes humans. It’s eating my body and replacing it, cell by cell, with funganoid units, making me a part of the Grove. I’m as much plant as human at this point. And since I caught the disease through sexual transmission, the SF chowed down on my nervous system first.” A look of sadness passes over Halley’s face, “I can’t leave the Grove, partly because I’m infected and can’t pass through the Grey containment field, but also because my mind partially lives in the Heartwood. The Grove, all the plants you see and all the infected women who live here, we’re all part of a single organism, a kind of sexually transmitted, parasitic biological computer. A computer that I’m being absorbed into, have been absorbed into.” She smiles wistfully, “I am functionally immortal, though, so I get to have wild nymphomaniac sex far into the future.”
Woah, that’s some heavy shit. “How did this happen to you?”
Halley-22 slides back onto the edge of the roof and sits next to me, looking at the view of the city. “It was an accident, basically. I woke up at Clem’s place like we all do, flipped out, and stayed with Hank for a bit. But things got weird with Hank and were already weird with Clem, so I decided to find some space and do my own thing. Strings were pulled and I found a job as a courier for the Pony Express.”
“The drone delivery company? Why do they need couriers?”
“Because drones suck at security: hackers can hijack them, they can be intercepted by thieves with hunter drones, recipient IDs can be spoofed. A courier who actually hand delivers mail is much more reliable. Plus with the Grey and Ürnauts and others around, people don’t trust network encryption much. So it’s oldschool coded papers and trusted couriers.”
“So I had a job carrying secure documents, mostly in the Terraces between embassies and corporate offices. I had a little apartment, a bit of money, and there was a cute receptionist on my rounds that was a huge flirt.” She grins and sings, “I was going to make it after-all.” Halley stops and pushes back her messy green hair, “But then one day I made a delivery to a poorer area out by the Junk Desert,” Halley points to a distant clump of particularly rough looking apartments right at the scrapheap edge. “It was cute, a birth announcement from a far far away sister to her down-on-his-luck Scavenger bro. Not a bad note end my career on. Anyway, when I left the guys flop, I looked up slope and saw green, saw the Grove for the first time. It was my last delivery of the day, so I decided to check it out.”
“It’s hard to explain just how magical the Grove seemed to me that first time. I’d been living on Flotsam for months; months of twisted metal, neon holograms, and dusty red stone with barely a plant in sight. Most Sapients keep gardens or at least a few planters, but it isn’t the same as actual wilderness or a park. I missed laying out in a field of tall grass at night, watching the sky and listening to the chirp of insects. I missed that greasy little stream in the thicket behind the trailer park. Fuck, I missed seeing trees! So finding a big clump of forest growing in the middle of Flotsam? It was like finding an oasis in the desert.”
“I think I get it a little,” I say. Parasitic organic computer thing aside, the Grove was very lovely in a way Flotsam generally was not.
“I didn’t really think, I just nodded.”
“She smiled and took me by the hand, led me to a secluded little glenn, and started kissing me hungrily. I kissed her back, lost in the moment, head buzzing. We touched and ran our hands over each others bodies, our mouths following behind. Somehow we fell to the grassy ground and I ended up on top of her. Laughing and smiling I pinned her down, kissed my way down her body, enjoying the herby taste of her skin, until I came to rest on my knees, face poised over her slick, green cunt. I breathed in and smelled that same intoxicating scent of flowers. I felt feeverish, delerious with lust. I leaned in, tongue leading, and began to eat her pussy. My mouth tingled; she tasted sweet and thick like syrup, her sharp, floral smell coated my face. She came, her thighs gripping my head, her back arching while black spots swam in my vision. I sat up, blinked, head throbbing. ‘What?’ I asked, seeing the green woman with a worried look on her face.”
“And then I passed out.”
“The Grove first appeared on Flotsam some time around Halley-10. No one is really sure where it came from, or why it suddenly appeared, but people think someone found a seed out there in the Junk Desert and brought it back to the city. They must have planted it, because a Grove sapling rooted and started growing, put out vines, and spread. At first no one paid it any mind, it was a nice curiosity: a vivacious new plant that could actually flourish on Flotsam. So what if it had a tendency to climb and wind and spread between buildings? It was green and alive and grew flowers that smelled amazing. It wasn’t until people began to noticing strange green growths on their skin, surface infections of the Sylvannic Funganoid, that anyone thought anything was wrong. By then the Grove had infiltrated a whole neighborhood and infected dozens of people. Most of them had surface lesions, infections that could be treated by amputating Funganoid tissue, but the Sylvannic Funganoid had managed to get into the nervous system and brain of a few humans, who started to spread the infection sexually. The women infected this way started to change: they became green, and curvaceous, and horny as fuck. These women, the Dryads, couldn’t be cured because their brains were partially Funganoid. They were stuck. The Grey declared the Grove a contamination zone and erected the plinth barrier, the residents of the overgrown homes were evacuated, and a nanobot vaccine was developed to protect everyone from future infections. Everyone moved on with their lives, wary but curious about Flotsam’s new patch of wilderness and the nymphomaniac plant women who lived there.”
“Which is where I came into the world, loaded with Halley-prime’s immune system, naive to the dangers of the grove, and unprotected from the Sylvannic Funganoid.”
“I was infected.”
“When I came to, it was to the sight of several green faces looking at me with concern. ‘She’s awake,’ one Dryad woman said. ‘Shit, her eyes are already green,’ said another, squinting at me. ‘Then it’s already too late,’ added a third with a grim expression. In the background another green woman, the one I’d had sex with, was crying and repeating that she didn’t know. Another green woman held her and stroked her hair. The first Dryad woman leaned down and kissed me on the lips, ‘Welcome to the Grove, sister.’ I moaned and kissed her back, suddenly more horny than I’d ever been in my life. The other Dryads, my new family, fell upon me eagerly, happy to satisfy my new libido and welcome me to my new life.”
I look at Halley-22 and want to hug her, but the Dryad woman had started to touch her cunt while recounting her story and I didn’t want to send the wrong message. “I’m so sorry,” I say.
She looks at me and shrugs, “Thanks... It’s not so bad, as far as illnesses go. Extreme horniness, breast enlargement, and immortality aren’t the worst symptoms to have to live with.”
“So what is life like for you now?” I ask.
Halley looks a little flushed and I see she is still slowly stroking herself. “You remember Moon at the trailer park?” I nod, thinking of the elderly hippy remnant, with her battered old winnebago, amazing vegetable garden, and her even better weed shed. She had the rough, sunken face of someone who lived young and fast for too many decades and the poverty of someone who spent life rejecting the system, man. She sold the best weed in the park and taught me everything I know about gardening. It occurs to me she is probably responsible for Hanks rooftop.
“You know her stories about when she lived on that commune? Everyone practicing free love, running around naked and high? The drum circles and communal gardens and living in harmony with each other and Mother Earth?” And unmentioned, unless Moon was drunk and morose, the lack of bathing, dumpster diving for food, sex work when money was tightest, and the string of overdoses that eventually ended the commune. Halley smiled, “It’s a lot like that without, you know, the darker stuff. And with a lot more sex. And better drugs.”
“Drugs?”
“The Grove provides, man. The fruit of the Grove trees is heavily fermented and has something in it that gets humans and Dryads drunk. The berries that grow on the vines have the same stuff, but concentrated, and are good for a nice, mellow high. Grove flowers contain a potent aphrodesiac, and when eaten are a bit like Molly. Concentrate the flowers into a tincture and you get a psychedelic that’ll have you tripping balls. It’s an entirely natural pharmacopeia.”
Halley-22 smiles, “Tonight when the moons come out, I’ll gather with my other Green Sisters in one of the meadows, and we’ll have a drum circle under the stars. Someone will bring Grovefruit wine and someone else will have gathered a basket of vineberries, and we’ll get drunk and high and dance and sing, pairing off to fuck when the urge overcomes us. Maybe other sapients will come join us, we usually have some curious humans out for the party. Eventually, when we are all too tired to dance or fuck, we’ll all huddle together and cuddle, nodding off and passing out, maybe waking for a quickie, and sleep until morning. It’s... I belong here.” Halley-22 looks thoughtful, “Sylvannic Funganoid infection aside, I’ve found my family.”
I smile and nod, happy for her and maybe a little jealous. But there is something that isn’t quite adding up for me... “You only talk about sisters, does the funganoid not infect men?”
Halley-22 makes a pained face, “No, men can be infected too. It’s just different for males. Females get the disease and become Dryads: we turn green, become extra curvy, and get horny. Men get Satyr Syndrome: they become kind of masculine comets. Their bodies become more muscular, they grow a thick pelt of mossy green hair and hornlike branches, and their cocks become green and enormous. For about a month they are absolute gods of male sexual performance. It’s incredible.” Halley is breathing deeply and rubbing her swollen clit.
“And then?”
“And then they burn out and die.”
Fuck! “Fuck!”
“Yeah,” Halley looks sad and horny at the same time, “it’s pretty tragic. These days it doesn’t really happen much, since just about everyone is immune. The only exceptions are lonely dudes who decide to go out with a bang. A kind of death by sexy times.” She smiles grimly, “We Green Sisters try and make it as memorable for them as we can...”
“What do we have here?” asks an unfamiliar, lyrical voice. I startle and turn to see the bark of a nearby tree warp and split open to reveal a beautiful green face. It’s eyes open and are an unbroken green so dark it’s black. The face pushes out of the tree becoming a head with vines studded with flowers and berries for hair. Another push and there is a neck and shoulders and enormous breasts with hugely round, dark green nipples, leaving the tree looking like a fictional, lusty Dryad. “You didn’t tell me you had a sibling,” the tree purrs.
“Clone actually,” Halley-22 says, who stands and walks over to the new Dryad. She grasps the emerging hand of the newcomer and pulls. “Mythrie, I’ve told you all of this before...”
Mythrie slides out to the hips, catches, wriggles, and slips free of the tree, tumbling to the ground. She stands, brushing herself off and tries to strike a pose, hugely wide hips cocked, heaving breasts proudly on display. She fucks me with her eyes, “Does she want to make love?” She asks.
Despite myself and everything I’ve just learned, I think about the offer. Mythrie is beautiful, a human hourglass. Except human isn’t quite right, she seems much more plant than Halley. Her hair is entirely made of foliage, and her skin has a rubbery, almost succulent look to it, with little striations that resemble the grove leaf pattern. And something about her body isn’t quite normal either. She moves like a human and broadly looks like one, but her musculature is oddly ropey, like it’s formed by cords of vine instead of flesh. She runs a hand through the leaves of her hair and I see she has vine tendrils instead of fingers. I glance at her feet and see that she has roots instead of toes, and that these have started to sink into the roof. Her vulva are dark, dark green and shine with moisture. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to clear my head. Why am I being such a randy slut today? “N-no thank you,” I manage to stammer.
Mythrie pouts beautifully, “but I’m so horny.”
Halley-22 places herself between us, “Mythrie, you know the rules. When a guest says no, we stop bothering them. How else are going to make the Grove a park for everyone?”
Mythrie aims her pout at Halley-22, chews her succulent bottom lip. “I need it so bad,” she whimpers.
“I need it too...” Halley growls with hunger. Suddenly the two green women are together, clutching at each other, mouths kissing and sucking. I stand up from my perch and give the two Dryads a wide berth as Halley falls to her knees and buries her face in Mythrie’s cunt. Mythrie moans, head tilted back, a long vine lolling from her mouth in place of a tongue. I edge my way to where we climbed onto the roof, and Halley-22 rolls onto her back, legs spread wide. Mythrie stares, sucking in great deep breathes of air, and I watch in a kind of horrified fascination as something pushes out of her snatch, a long green tendril with the girth and length of a good-sized cock. The cock-vine assumes the position and Mythrie drops onto Halley-22, rubbing her protuberance along the prone woman’s vaginal cleft. Both green women moan in pleasure. I take a step backward and almost fall off the roof, yelping a little as I catch myself. Halley-22 startles in concern and rolls onto her stomach to look at me, pushing herself to hands and knees. Mythrie opportunistically takes advantage of the position and drives her crotch vine home, Halley’s face becoming an open mask of shock and pleasure. I now know exactly the face I make when I’m penetrated. And also the specific ecstatic frown I make when someone fucks me from behind, as Mythrie does just that, thrusting enthusiastically into Halley-22 who grunts and rocks back against her. I have got to get off of this roof before I see my o-face again.
I carefully lower myself into the tree we used to climb onto the roof. I ignorie the sounds of the two green women fucking and try not to think about how wet my underwear is, just focus on safely climbing down and getting out of the Grove before I am jumped by a Dryad. Or before I jump a green lady myself. One foot down, lower body, and then firmly place the next. You can do this Halley.
Just before I lower myself below the edge of the roof, I spare one last look back, just in time to see Halley thrust her head forward, mouth open in what looks, embarrassingly, like an intensely pleasurable dry heave. My doggy-style, deep-boning, orgasm face. Blah.
I drop down to the ground below and hear Halley-22 breathlessly call after me, “It was nice meeting you...”
“Come visit....”
“Let me know if you find Halley-Prime.....”
***
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