Did You Miss Me?

Betty Mae was sitting on the bus bench. A bus pulled up, paused with its door open, and then went on, without her. Betty Mae wasn't taking a bus, she was waiting her beau. Her hair was held back in a ponytail with a hair scrunchie, she wore a pink cashmere sweater, a darker pink than her pink-poodle dress. She completed her ensemble with a pair of black-and-white saddle shoes with white socks, and a black-patent-leather belt at her waist. The height of cool fashion in this year of 1954, and she looked cool because her beau was the coolest guy in town. She sat on the bus bench, nineteen and pretty, and her eyes were dazed and dreamy as she sat and waited and dreamed of his arms around her and....

A pair of black-leather-clad arms encircled her from behind and her nostrils filled with the scent of hair pomade as a young male voice asked, "Did you miss me, babe?" The intruder was but a year or two older than Betty Mae, and as she was dressed in the height of female fashion, he was clad in the male height of greaser coolness, black leather jacket over a white t-shirt, blue jeans with big cuffs at the ankles over black patent-leather shoes, his hair rucked up into a duck's ass held in place with way too much pomade, so bad that if he sat on an easy chair or couch, it had to have an antimacassar on it to prevent his pomade from permanently staining the fabric.

Betty Mae smiled and let the man kiss her. "You know it, King!" She lifted both hands in an "X" pattern to let King Blaylock take them in his own.

King walked around her and maneuvered it so that this let him keep both her hands in his until he was in front of her and they were facing each other, their hands uncrossed. He pulled her to her feet and said, "Then let's shake it, baby!"

"Keen!" Betty Mae breathed and followed King like a puppy follows his new master, the same expression of happy, submissive trust on her face. They made a cute young couple, strolling down the street, the handsome, sleek-haired greaser guy, the doll-like prettiness of the poodle-skirt clad girl on his arm. Just two young lovers walking down the sidewalk of a quiet residential street in an clean, middle-class neighborhood.

King didn't lead her the usual route to the malt shoppe, and she finally drew up enough courage to ask, "Where are we going, King?"

"Found a secret garden, Babe." King said. "Just the place for you and me to go sparking."

Betty Mae squealed like she'd just won the beauty pageant. "Eeeeeeee!"

"And it's got all kinds of amazing flowers, and smooth green grass and shade trees and marble benches we can sit on and nobody ever, ever goes there." King went on.

"Oh, King, this is just the...the ginchiest!"

"You know it, Babe." King smiled benevolently on her. They had to walk the four blocks to the place, and Betty Mae, no stranger to the neighborhood, drew back in surprise. "It's the old Klugman place!"

"Yep, the garden is in the back." King said. Betty Mae drew back and he looked at her. "What's the problem, Babe?"

"It's...it's haunted, isn't it?" Betty Mae said tentatively.

King looked at her then burst out in a rather mean laugh at her expense. "We're not going in the house, Babe. We're going in the garden behind it. No ghosts in gardens, Babe."

She followed him at that, but still kept looking nervously around.

The garden was just as King had advertised, for he had crawled up to look over the top of the wall to look at the place just the evening before. He'd seen it looking fully tended and bountifully beautiful and immediately decided that he and his favorite girl had just stumbled upon the perfect place for a summertime tryst. He'd slipped on over into the garden (he'd been near the front gate which was impregnable from the outside) and over to the gate so he could undo the lock. He didn't want his best girl to have to climb over the wall like he had. They sauntered in the gate and King fastened it behind them with the huge bar (the only other way into it was through the old house and it was boarded up very firmly indeed) and held out his arm. "Ready for a stroll through our new secret garden?" he asked.

"You know it, King."

They went through the path laid out to let the house guests see the garden to its best advantage. They roamed through roses, gladiolas and petunias in lush profusion on all sides, supplemented by flowering bushes and climbing vines bearing more flowers and an occasional grapevine. King plucked a bunch of fat purple globes from one branch and to Betty Mae's wondering face, he said, "I always had a fantasy of lying on my back while you fed grapes to me. Indulge a fellow, will ya?"

"Sure, King." Betty Mae said compliantly. Then her face split open in wide-eyed, open-mouthed wonder. "Gee whiz!" she said slowly, reverently.

King stopped, surprised as well, but managed to hide it before Betty Mae turned to look at him.

"Do you see that?" She asked him.

"I see it, Babe." King agreed. "Whatta blossom!" His voice was snide but the sentiment was real.

The plant in view was enormous. Set in a circular island of the path and the endpoint of the stroll before wending one's way back to the house, it held gigantic deep-pink tulips with broad leaves and long cats-tail-like stalks all reaching out from a common, ground-level base. The plants flowers and leaves and stalks moved in a slow, graceful dance in the gentle breeze that scarcely stirred the rest of the flowering plants around them, and even the trees' leaves rustled less than this one plant's many appendages.

"Do you know what we've found?" Betty Mae asked in marveled tones.

King smiled at her. "We've just found the place where I can lie while you feed me those grapes, Babe."

"Oh, King!" Betty Mae declared.

The grass sward around the plant was wide and clear of any other plants. Only a soft low-cut grass thicker than any King had ever seen was under their feet as they stepped off the path, over the low verge of bricks and onto the grass around the plant.

"You want one of these buds to pin on your sweater, Babe?" King asked as he got closer to the plant. "It'll look really sweet on you and it smells almost as good as you."

Betty Mae started to answer and then she screamed. King looked at her instead of at where she was looking and by the time she raised her hand to point at the danger, it was upon him.

The stalks of the plant had turned into long, prehensile arms reaching out. King had no time to react before he was captured by them. One around each arm and a third encircling both legs around the ankles and reaching up to loop the knees, he was helpless before he started. Betty Mae was also reached for, but she'd had more warning and less need to play macho, she darted for the path and reached it. The brick verge marked the reach of the tendrils, she was safe upon five paces of distance. She stopped, turned around, and screamed.

King had no time to waste on machismo now, he was struggling for his life. He didn't know what this plant planned for him, but he had plenty of monster movies to give him ideas, he was in the grip of a human flytrap! No wonder this place had the reputation for being haunted!

"HYAH, AH, AHH-HAHHHH!" he yelped in fear. Betty Mae may not be impressed, but he didn't have time for that, either, he was in danger!

The "tulips" of the plant had tendrils, too, shorter and flatter than their green cousins, these were pink as tongues and they twiddled like a tongue on a hungry child, licking its chops for the feast! King squirmed as he felt his jeans' ass being ripped apart...somehow. He couldn't see what was doing it, and as long as it didn't cut into his flesh, he didn't care at that moment. "Go get help, Babe!" He yelped at Betty Mae. It did no good, she just stood there and screamed and screamed. Damned stupid bitch! Didn't she see he needed help!

One of the tendrils reached itself for his face, he saw the tip of it now before him. Shit, the thing was about the size and shape of a human cock and it had a very cock-shaped slit in the tip of it just like one. It slapped his face and the thing was as warm as a human's prick. Double shit! With this in his face and his ripped pants, he might be looking at something worse than being eaten alive! The thing had ripped his crotch wide open from fly to back belt buckle. He could feel his ass being touched by the thing, feel his cock dangling downwards.

As he'd feared, he felt it, a warm probing at his anus. "Oh, God, no, don't let it get me, Babe, you got to do something!" he yelped.

But the dumb broad just stood there and screamed as the tendril poked at his anus. He felt it, a bulbous tip, and as it punctured the sphincter he let out a loud scream.

And the "cock" at his mouth took advantage of the scream to jab at his open mouth. Before he could finish his yelp, it was in his mouth and poking at the back of his throat, and he gurgled to a finish. God, that thing in his butt wasn't a single cock-shaped thing, it was a series of balls that were alternately stretching and relaxing his sphincter, ball after ball reached the tucker of skin, pressed against it and forced itself inside, his asshole would close over it to be forced apart again by the next. Time and again, shit, how long was this set of pool balls inside a French tickler? He'd seen one much like this at a party where it had been brought out as a prank, but this one in his butt was bigger and...oh, oh, OH MY GOD! "Muhh-uhh-UHHHHHH!" he moaned around the plant-prong in his mouth, as those balls in his ass found a pleasure center inside him that he hadn't known he had! Oh, God, as those bulbs slipped past it, rubbing it as they went, he felt a new rush of joy flooding his senses!

"Oh, oh, God, King!" wailed Betty Mae! "What is it doing to you?"

"Muh muh-uh muh muh-muhmuh!" exclaimed King which, when translated into English not warped by a cock-tendril in your mouth, was, "I'm getting an ass-fucking!" Betty Mae didn't understand, but it didn't matter, she resumed screaming, now varying it by running in a circle around the plant, as if that was going to do any good. Tendrils were intrigued by it and reached for her as she got close, but the brick verge did its job and they couldn't reach her.

But the ones that had King in thrall weren't about to lose concentration on their job of ramming his ass (for the "dildo" had begun to slip itself back and forth, increasing his pleasure ten-fold) and fucking his mouth (it had sped up, too), and King could only writhe and groan. He wasn't exactly fighting the plant anymore, he was getting into this! Man, this frigging tulip really knew how to pleasure a man!

So he writhed and bucked and thrashed in the tendril's embrace, and they kept on working his butt and slipping in and out of his mouth. King gave himself to his captor and began to work his lips on the one in his mouth, milking at the thick shaft as it pumped at him. The plant seemed to notice the change and began to work his mouth and ass even harder.

Betty Mae had notice and was standing now stock-still, thunderstruck as she watched her man, her sweetie, her totally cool boyfriend was now groaning in pleasure as he was butt-fucked by a gigantic tulip. His cock was hard and throbbing, a thick stream of precome drooled out of it, and the pink "tongue" of the nearby tulip darted under to catch the salty man-nectar. Done with the catch, it reached up to cleanse and tickle King's cock.

Oh, yeah, suck my cock! thought King as he was licked and pleasured by the tulip-tongue. Fuck my ass, too, harder, shit! He began to move his head on the plant-dick in his mouth and the tube jerked, pulsed, and hot warm fluid gushed into his mouth. It tasted like a salad he had eaten once when visiting with his family at his aunt and she'd taken them to a really nice restaurant. There was more than plant in this vegetable-jizz, it had a meaty tang to it as well (the salad he'd eaten had been covered with blue-cheese dressing and bacon bits crumbled into it) and he gulped the tulip's ejaculation hungrily.

As he did, he felt the familiar sensations of his own orgasm rising in him. Man, he hadn't felt like this since the first time he'd jerked off to a porn magazine. And then the pleasure in him doubled in intensity and doubled again! Oh, Jeez! This climax was going to be fucking epic!

The cock-tendril (or perhaps it was a new one) slid into his mouth as he reached his climax, and he rumbled his glory as he ejaculated heavily. The tulip-tongue caught it all as hungrily as he had gulped down the plant's offering, and when he was finally done, the tongue lapped his prick as clean as it could be.

Betty Mae had seen enough, she fled for the gate and left King in thrall to the plant. It kept him captive for some three hours, during which time it forced him into four more orgasms, and every one of the six cock-tendrils (he'd had time to count them) visited his mouth once and came back the second time (each one once only, best he could tell) to ram itself up his ass. By the end of it, his butt was a well-plowed tunnel free to anything the plant wanted to stuff up him, but the nub of raw pleasure inside there continued to scream ecstasy at his brain every time something touched it. Man, he had to find out what that was inside there, some kind of secondary cock?

Finally, however, he was released. Betty Mae was long gone and nobody had come to his rescue. He took off his jacket, tied it by his arms around his waist behind him to hide his ripped jeans and bare buttocks and walked awkwardly home. There, he fell into bed and slept long and deeply.

He found Betty Mae the next day at a store, she saw him and blushed, turned away and when he tried to follow her, she fled as if he had leprosy. Well, fuck the bitch anyhow! Hell of a lot of help she'd been when he'd needed it!

It took him three more days to realize just how much his life had changed. When it had, he went back to the secret garden, opened the gate (it was now only locked when he was inside it) and went inside. The plant was still where it had been and the tendrils wove rapidly, eagerly, as it sensed his approach.

He walked straight for the tulips and up to the central area where all three "tulips" could get their tongues on him. The tendrils surrounded him and he undid his belt and let his pants fall to his ankles. Caught one of the cock-tendrils in his hand and lifted it to his lips, kissed it on its slitted head.

The tendrils moved over him as he asked it, "Did you miss me, Babe?"