It was one of those days, every mirror I looked into, every window I glanced at showed an image of a man I didn’t recognise; or didn’t want to recognise. Too old, too soft, too this, too that. None of it good, all of it inescapable. So I did what I always do, went out to my favourite second-hand market, losing myself in stalls and cabinets and piles of bric-a-brac let loose from other people’s lives.
I found the ring adrift in a box full of assorted trinkets and trifles, mainly rubbish to my inexpert eye. I’d almost missed it but some quality must have caught my attention, maybe a glint of light on its dirty silvery surface.
Picking it up I saw that it was a face, framed in leaves and vines with grass for its hair and beard, a benign yet also slightly malign look evident in the blue crystal eyes. It appealed to me and I handed over the paltry sum being asked by the stall-holder, whose only response was, “Ah, the Green Man…”, before turning his attention to another customer.
I was rather happy with the purchase and sat down in a nearby cafe to have a closer look, trying it on the ring-finger of my left hand which it slipped onto very easily. It felt weighty enough (might even be silver I thought, underneath the grime), and I liked the way the foliage on either side of the face wrapped around the band, as if encasing my finger in its tendrils. It felt comfortable, despite the fact that I’d never been a ring wearer, and decided to leave it on for a while.
Unaccountably at the same time I realised that I had a powerful erection, taking me by surprise as my days of unexpected hard-ons were well and truly past, or so I’d thought. I was pleased that I was sitting down as the excitement in my pants was unmistakable, and probably obvious to the naked eye.
I surreptitiously tried to adjust myself, using the small table as a privacy shield, but realised to my horror that by manhandling my dick through my jeans it was about to go off, and was already leaking copious amounts of precum into my boxers. Within seconds a wave of pleasure flooded my body as the orgasm hit, and it took all of my self-control to stop from crying out loud with the intensity. As it was, I gripped the edge of the table as if clinging onto it for dear life!
Oddly, as I was gripping the table I glanced down and could have sworn that the eyes on my new ring were glowing red, which I put down to my abnormal state of excitement, as I did the heat that seemed to be spreading from my finger, up my arm and throughout my entire body. Very strange.
Stranger still, however, was waiting for me at my house, which I staggered back to once the commotion in my jeans subsided, leaving the front of my pants dark with the stain of my jizz. Holding my shopping bag unnaturally in front of me (which probably only succeeded in drawing more attention to my crotch), I fled the cafe and hurried back home as fast as I could, still recovering from the best orgasm I’d had in months, possibly years.
Fumbling with my keys I unlocked the door and stepping inside found myself in what appeared to be a forest, the entrance hallway a tunnel of vines and leaves leading to the sitting room awash in a rustling, shimmering riot of creepers, leaves and thin twisting branches, all growing out of the floor and walls.
I could only vaguely discern my bookshelves hidden in the shadows amongst the leafy tangle, my dining table, chairs and sofa drowning in vines and flowers and tall grass, as if an aeon had passed and nature had reclaimed its property. The French doors leading into the small rear garden were thrown open and the green tumult had spilled out, covering the paved courtyard and making it difficult to discern where the garden began and ended.
In the midst of it all stood the Green Man, his face the same as that on my new/old ring, now pulsing around my finger like a living thing. He looked as old as the world and as youthful as tomorrow, his body covered with the softest grass that swayed and rippled as if a silent zephyr was passing gently through it. His deep breathing rustled the surrounding foliage and filled my senses with its damp loamy smell, heavy and erotic.
He held out his leafy arms and drew me into his embrace, enfolding me in his rustling warmth, filling my nostrils with his rich earthy smell. I felt him pull on my shirt, my pants, my singlet, my undies, and they all just fell away as if made from smoke. My naked skin pressed against his soft grassy body as his hands stroked my back and caressed my buttocks.
My cock was erect again, throbbing and vital in a way I remembered from my youth. I could feel hardness against my stomach and looking down saw that his own stiff tool had appeared from the foliage of his riotous bush, thick and veiny and dripping thick honey-like fluid from the wide open piss slit, his foreskin peeled back to expose half of his purple engorged knob. His tumescence gave off a powerful odour, sweetly acrid and voluptuous, a thick masculine funk that I could almost taste.
His balls, large and moss-covered, swung lazily between his vine tangled legs. I cupped them in my hand, revelling in their size and weight, his life fluid bubbling inside his velvet ball-sack, sending a surge of energy through my fingertips and along my arms, filling me with heat and desire. My cock throbbed painfully, my foreskin peeled back taught like a band around my shaft, my knob fat and dark, leaking strings of thick precum, my sex stink mingling with his intoxicating smell.
Suddenly my mind was flooded with memories of all of the sex I’d ever experienced; that first furtive wank with a stranger, getting sucked off in a park, being fucked by my first boyfriend, sucking a guy at the sauna, rimming, frotting, kissing, pissing, spanking, tying, binding, it was all there, flashing across my mind’s eye like an orgasm of comets!
He held me tighter still, his manroot pressed hard against me, mine against him feeling like it was about to explode. Our faces almost touching he leant in and kissed me, like kissing a forest, sweet and earthy. His tongue, soft and warm explored my mouth, wrapped itself around my own, drew me ever deeper into him.
The tendrils and vines that wrapped around his arms and legs seemingly had a life of their own as they explored my body, probing between my legs and buttocks, pulling on my ball sack, sliding effortlessly into my arsehole, setting my passage on fire as they twisted and coiled inside me. I was invaded and overwhelmed.
When my orgasm came I cried out with its intensity, feeling my cock jerk and my whole body spasm, as if jolted by an electric charge. I flooded the forest of his stomach with my spunk as my balls were stretched to near breaking point by the grasping vines. I was about to cry out in pain when the tension relaxed and my scrotum was released, allowing my testicles to settle back into their loose sack, tender and spent.
I think I must have fainted then, although I have no recollection of it. When I awoke he was standing over me, his cock still erect, his beautiful balls hanging full and heavy between his legs. A fountain of water began to flow from his piss-hole, arcing into the air before showering down over me, drenching me in its cooling fragrance, bringing me back to my senses.
I closed my eyes and allowed myself to drown in his flood and when I opened them again he was gone, as was the forest and the riot of tendrils and leaves and branches. I was still naked on the floor, wet and spent, lying on a bed of sodden leaves in my sitting room. A cool breeze from the open back doors played over me, the smell of loamy soil now just a hint in the air.
I nursed my aching balls in my hand and allowed my fingers to massage my tender arsehole, still recovering from the woody invasion. It had all been real (I had no doubt) and the mystery of it remained elusive but comforting. Running my hands over my wet body I enjoyed the feel of my skin and took comfort from the remnants of the embrace he had held me in.
My cock became hard again and I slowly jerked off, this time without the intensity but with his smell and touch still with me. When it came my orgasm was wonderfully gentle and dribbled out in a slow thick ejaculation, nestling in my pubes and belly hair before running slowly down my side onto the damp leaves.
I lay perfectly still for a few minutes feeling the wet leaves caress my bare flesh before finally getting to my feet, shaky and disoriented. I looked at myself in the reflection from the glass doors at the back of the room and was surprised at the scruffy, soiled man looking out at me, happy and sated and relaxed. I liked the look of him and almost didn’t recognise the figure as me, even though I was unchanged in outward appearance.
I felt for the ring on my finger but it had gone, and I knew that I wouldn’t see it again. Having brought us together its owner had reclaimed it for its next wearer. I felt a connection of sorts with those who had worn it before me, and whoever lay in its future; an odd intangible sense of community with people I had never met (and probably never would) all of us tangled up in the Green Man’s vines, branches, roots, and loamy cum-soaked body of grass and moss and soil.
In my mind’s eye I saw the ring back in the box of assorted trinkets at the market, waiting, waiting and watching.
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