“That’s it.” I buck my hips and writhe against the intensity. “More.” The flow increases, bringing me so close to orgasm that my breath hitches and my eyes roll in their sockets. Just as I’m about to climax, the water pressure recedes. “What are you doing?” I shriek. “You are producing copious amounts of delicious sap,” the tree says. “I must keep you in this perpetual state of neediness.” “Why?” I cry.
