When the Green Man Comes

When the green man comes I leave my window open just a crack. It's Halloween. I know he'll come tonight. This is his favorite holiday of the year. I go to bed early as it is dark and dreary. I'm sleeping sweetly, when the green man slips in through my window and nestles next to me in my bed. I feel his bark, and it's strong and hard and cold, but his insides feel warm and radiate heat. The green man wraps me with his limbs.

Leaves brush against my face and down along my arms and legs. I lay sleeping and am roused by the green man. I feel his root growing and moving toward me, its tip starts to slip between my legs. It's long like the root of a tree, and it starts to tickle the lips of my pussy. I feel the tip pushing against my cunt, and I know his root needs to be in me.

This is the purpose of the green man: fertility, prosperity, and impregnation. His root is pointed, but not rough. He enters me slowly, and begins to slip in and out. As he slides in and out of me, I feel my own juices coming slowly down over his root. Soon the green man is thrusting in and out more quickly, and I can feel that his sap is ready to enter me. His sap is warm like a fall night.

In the morning I wake and I wonder if it was just a dream, but I feel the warm sap oozing out between my legs, and I know that the green man came to me on this holy day, Samhain.

I miss the green man and I wish he would come more often. It seems he only comes when the seasons change. I'm lonely for him. I long for him. I reach out for his branches, but they're not there.

Winter comes and gets colder and colder. The days are shorter and shorter, and I wonder if it will ever end. The solstice comes. On that day of hope, I know that the nights will grow shorter and the days will grow longer. I open my window this night before the Solstice, and I hope that the green man will think of me. I wake up cold, teeth chattering, and I know that he doesn't come early, but he comes on time, and when he comes he always comes.

The night of the winter solstice I go to bed early. It's cold, and I'm wrapped up in blankets and pajamas and gloves. I'm even wearing socks. I leave the window cracked, and I call out to the Green Man. I welcome him, and ask him to join me. I finally drift to sleep, and I think that I'm dreaming about the green man. I feel cold limbs wrapped around me. There are no leaves anymore, just rough bark. It scratches my skin, my face, my arms, my belly, my legs.

Somehow when the limb comes close to my pussy lips, it's soft and smooth, like snow on a winter morning. His root comes toward me again, and this time it's not rough, but instead like an icicle: cold, but not sharp. It enters me, and somehow my warmth starts to melt it, and yet it doesn't get any smaller. It seems to grow. It gets bigger and soon as the root moves in and out of me, instead of sap, there's a gust of air, of ice cold air, like what would blow across the Arctic.

I fall into a hazy sleep again, and in the morning when I wake I think I must've dreamed the whole thing, but the covers are blown off me and I'm lying there shivering again, warm at the same time, and I know that the green man came to me.

Spring is coming and I know this means the green man will come to see me again as he did so long ago. It's been months again and this night on the equinox I open my window just a crack. I go to bed early. I'm restless, tossing and turning and yet I finally drift off. After a while I feel the green man come through the window. He slips into bed next to me. He wraps his limbs around me, and this time there are little knobs on them like flower buds.

He smells so sweet, like Jasmine or cherry blossoms, and his bark is soft and damp. This time his bark is warm, but his insides are cold just like how this the seasons shift. He strokes me with his limbs all over my face and breasts and belly, all over my arms and legs. He tickles the tips of my fingers and the bottoms of my feet and then he wraps himself tight around me again. The root starts to come towards me and to worm its way between my legs.

I've come to wait for him every three months. I've come to love and need and want and desire him. His root slips in between my legs and up between my pussy lips and deep into my cunt, and the bark is smooth and it doesn't scratch me at all.

At first he just rests inside me. He feels small, smaller than before, but soon he starts to swell and fill me. I start to move on that root, start to ride it, and feel it growing and swelling as the sap is growing and swelling inside it. I'm riding and riding and soon I'm coming. I'm screaming out the green man's name.

I'm not sure what it is I'm saying: an ancient language and somehow I know I'm calling his name. This time when he comes, I just feel flower petals blowing inside me, falling all over me, across my brow, all over my skin and deep inside my pussy.

Again in the morning I wake and again I think it must be a dream but I find my bed covered with flower petals and the trees haven't even started to blossom. How could this have happened? It must be the green man bringing me his blessings early.

The second most auspicious day of the year for the green man is Beltane. It comes in early May, and while others are focusing on the Maypole or international workers day, I know that the green man might make an extra visit to me; one between the solstices and equinoxes, one that is special just for us. That night I go out dancing in my backyard sky clad and I look at the stars and I feel the breeze on my naked skin, and I know that the green man hears me.

I retire late. It's almost midnight. I open the window just a crack, and slip between my sheets. This time I stay awake. I want to see the green man's face. I want to know him.

A breeze starts whistling through my window, and as soon as it slips inside, I see in the swirling fog the green man in all his glory. He is green like a cornstalk or a tree, ready to burst into bloom. He's tall and slender and long. He comes toward me, and he speaks in an ancient language, and calls me ancient names. I don't know what they mean, but I think he's calling me the goddess of love, and beautiful.

I lift the sheet for him to join me. He slips into the bed and nestles next to me. I curl up with my head against his trunk, leaves touching my face, and the breeze blowing through them and rustling them along my skin. I whisper how I need him to stay with me longer, how he can't just come with every season, how it's so important that he came this time, and how I need him all the time.

The green man pulls me close and touches me softly with his leaves and flowers. He smells like early summer, and feels warm against my skin. I roll on top of him, and I tell him this time I won't let him leave. His root comes toward me. It slips between my lips. I ride him like I've never ridden him before. I ride him like my life depends on it. I ride him into a frenzy for myself and for him, and at one point I start to cry because I know when I wake up he won't be there.

My tears fall onto his leaves, onto his trunk and I tell him how much I miss him. This time his root is warm and long and slippery, engorged with rainwater. He starts to swell and his sap starts to leave him and fill me. It's warm and sweet and gooey like honey. I fall asleep with his limbs wrapped around me, lying on top of him, whispering that I don't want him to leave.

In the morning I wake and there's a man in my bed. I don't understand what happened. Is this the green man? I've never seen him before. He has green eyes, but he has soft skin. He's a man, not a tree, and not an ancient being. I don't know him and yet I do. I ask him his name and he whispers that ancient name, and I know that it's he. I ask how he was able to stay with me into the morning and be here, human, in this form. He whispers one word: love; and I know it's because I loved him into existence, and he felt that love, and he loved me too.

Now I have my green man all the time, and he fills me every night with his root, and he fills my cunt with his sap, and I ride him wondering if he'll be here the next day. But I don't care because if he were here just one day, that's enough.