*swsh*

 

*swshksht*

 

*shf shf*

 

Amy hacked at the thick vines obstructing her path. She knew what was on the other side by smell alone... lovers' vine, and the biggest jackpot she had ever found. The denser vines in her way parted and fell away enough for the adventurer to see the other side, and she was elated to discover how right she was.

 

The entire grove was overgrown with the stuff, creeping up and around nearly every tree, covering the bark in its distinct aquamarine color and signature lovers' pitcher flowers, each undoubtedly filled with its valuable nectar. Smaller creepers twirled themselves around tree branches branches, draping its other signature growth, the lovers' tears, down in gooey, sappy curtains of filament. The flowers were numerous enough to fill the grove with their signature sent, overly sweet with subtle bitter notes and an undertone of alcohol.  Amy pulled her cloth mask up to protect against the potent fumes, and pulled out her tools to start harvesting.

 

Local scholars were interested in the plant for its unusual flowering behavior, producing two very distinct types structures with different nectar compositions, seemingly based on positioning. Studying the plant could provide insight about other creeping plants the community farmed, or at least that's what the botany college claimed. Amy's eventual buyers, however, would be interested in the nectar itself.

 

The pitchers contained a sweet, tart nectar with stimulant properties when drunk or held in the mouth. For these, Amy would be using a dropper to extract the nectar into glass bottles, before placing the flower in a wooden box to prevent crushing. The tears, on the other hand, hung down from high branches and coated themselves in a gooey sap, and could be simply cut down and tossed in a sack. The sap had a more concentrated substance best applied to the skin, which combined those effects with a strong empathogenic effect that inspired intense feelings closeness, intimacy, and a desire for physical contact in subjects.

 

And most importantly, both substances were powerful aphrodisiacs. They were so powerful, in fact, that until the recent shakeup in provincial administration that possession of them or their derivative products could get one imprisoned in the regional capital. Now, though, the provincial government settled for a regulated legalization of the substance. It was only a matter of time before the market for the vine's resources was flooded and its value crashed. Amy was probably only going to get this one outing, so she needed to make it count. She set to work cutting Lovers' Tears down with her knife.

 

Amy raised a hand to wipe the sweat off her brow, only catching herself inches from disaster. Her glove was soaked in sap from the sack of lovers' tears she'd harvested. She was already feeling pent up from hours of breathing in the flowers' fumes. Lovers' vine derivatives didn't normally work well as inhalants, but she'd been holding the pitchers directly in front of her face for hours while extracting their nectar. Her building arousal was also affecting her breathing, causing her to unconciously start panting, accelerating her intoxication. The intrusive thought of plunging that gloved hand down to her nether region occurred to her with increasing frequency. She shook her head. Getting the sap on her would mean disaster.

 

As many times as she'd had to adjust her mask with the already compromised gloves, she worried it might be counterproductive by now. She didn't want to find out what would happen though, so she raised it once more and picked another flower. She did a double take as the bare stem suddenly sparkled and regrew its flower. Before she could process the implications, she felt slender fingers pull her mask down and turn her head, as a pair of soft lips met her own.

 

Amy's eyes fluttered to a close, seemingly of their own accord. The odds of this being a positive development were remote, and Amy knew that. It wasn't good that this was happening. She needed break away from the kiss, to push this mysterious person away, to do anything other than accept them passively. Her kisser spared her from her spiral and broke the kiss themself, caressing the side of her face. Amy's eyes opened, and beheld a beautiful blue-green face, blushing blue, staring with her own exotic eyes of blue with green irises. Amy noticed the other person's unusual hair, colored purple and looking strangely like-

 

A shot of adrenaline snapped Amy out of her addled reverie. The "person" who had just stolen a kiss from her was a dryad, and judging from the lovers' tears functioning as their hair she was probably the dryad of the very plant she had spent the afternoon harvesting. She suddenly noticed the the tingling sensation on her lips. The dryad watched Amy's face as her mind caught up, flashing her a mischievous smirk. The dryad stepped forward. Amy took a second too long to react, and was pulled into another kiss. She felt the dryad's tongue brush against her lips as though requesting entrance, and against her better judgement she permitted it to enter. The feeling of the wet kiss, the tongue against her own, and the dryad's boozy, saccharine aroma dominated her awareness, and she only dimly registered the sensual removal of her clothing until she felt a hand on her tummy.

 

The hand was not dry. Another shot of adrenaline pierced the haze in her mind, though it met more resistance. Bad. Danger. She opened her eyes again. She needed to shove this dryad away, but... that would be so rude wouldn't it? Amy mustered enough willpower to push herself gently out of the kiss, and drew a sharp breath to focus on-

 

Fuck. The ambient haze mixed with the dryad's own scent in her nostrils, and her mind swam, eyes briefly rolling back. The dryad giggled. Amy's heart fluttered. She was really cute actually, and very sweet, and- no that's just the drugs. Well, the sweet comment was, but she was definitely objectively cute...

 

Amy's thoughts danced as the dryad guided her down to the ground. She felt vines emerge from the ground under her wrists and ankles, tenderly growing around them and binding them in place. Then she felt them oozing something sticky. Of course. She considered how naked the rest of her now-exposed body felt, how much she needed ached to be touched, and for a single lucid moment how deeply fucked she was. She briefly considered that being deeply fucked actually sounded pretty good right now, but the thought was interrupted by a prickling sensation against her labia as unseen, sappy vines spread her open. That was definitely bad.

 

Her attention was stolen again as she saw the dryad squat over her and lower to their knees, positioning their own vulva inches from Amy's face. The adventurer knew this was a point of no return. She channeled every mote of willpower she could muster, but by now she was so thoroughly fucked up on nectar that her will was a paper fan struggling against a hurricane. She broke, and shot her head up to lap at the gorgeous woman above her. The musky sweet scent of the dryad's dripping sex filled her and banished all thought from her mind. She lapped at the dryad's folds like she was licking the batter from a whisk and swore she heard the dryad's ethereal, echoing voice moaning above her. The vines that had spread her were now moving, exploring her own folds and giving her clit the occasional flick; only enough to tease her, to drive her deeper and deeper. Amy's mind went out, and her world was reduced to her body and the beautiful, sap covered dryad she was licking...

 

Amy opened her eyes. It was dark out. The adventurer groaned and lifted herself up. She felt resistance at her wrists, and felt an adrenaline spike, but the dry vines gave way instantly. Her head hurt, a lot. Lovers' tears specifically were known to result in a crash if used too much in too short a time, and she'd definitely had a dangerous amount used on her.

 

She played over the day's events in her mind. The dryad that caught her had spent what felt like hours riding her face. Focusing on the soreness in her mouth, it may have actually been hours. She blushed at the memory.

 

The adventurer kicked her feet up one by one to dislodge them, then stood and looked around. Her clothes had been neatly folded and left in a pile while she was out, and she spotted the cloth mask she was wearing before. She put that on first. Her bag was next to the pile, nicely packed up but devoid of any of the lovers' vine she'd come here for. She considered trying again in the morning, but the thought of further harming her lover's vines made her uncomfortable. The drug must have still been in her system.

 

Amy decided to make camp for the night in a nearby clearing.

 

After a short walk and some awkward thoughts, she build a modest fire and started a soup with plants she harvested along the way. She decided to head back to town in the morning empty handed. This was not a safe place to harvest vine from; it was well protected, though... it wouldn't be the end of the world if she came again...

 

Amy downed the soup and laid down on her bed roll for the night, gently touching herself as she imagined visiting the dryad again.