Sacred Garden

What had been a dream, and what been real were all on the table for her consideration. Brenda questioned her own sanity. After all, voices in her head? An insane person would never dispute their own rationality, she reasoned. The voices had to be a real communication. She stared at the Swamp Maple very hard and thought to it, I will be back.

Brenda stole out of the woods with caution, fearing to encounter the two aggressive men that chased her that morning. As she approached the parking area, red strobe lights danced through the foliage. As Brenda entered the lot she saw an ambulance van exiting on its far side. Two Park Department's SUV's were in the lot also. The yellow jeep remained unmoved from its morning roost.

She walked directly to two rangers, who had stopped their discussion and stood staring at her. " What happened? " asked Brenda.

" Two men were rescued and sent to the hospital. " Stated the younger of the two. He glanced to his elder as if to question whether he had disclosed confidential information.

" Hikers found a man unconscious at the top of the path. " Contributed the older ranger. " When we got there, we saw that he'd had a heart attack. " He turned to look at the younger ranger and Brenda saw the silver glint on his short sidewall haircut. She estimated that he was around seven years older than she was.

Taking his cue the ranger in his mid-twenties continued, " We no sooner got the first guy down here and into an ambulance, when hiker's reported the second fellow, just off the path, with a shattered hip. "

"The fool had a red bandana, and was trying to make a splint. The guy had been running for help, because it had been his walking partner that had the heart attack, " quipped the elder attendant.

" How did he break his leg on that path? " asked Brenda.

" Tripped on a root. " stated the young man with a deadpan look. " Funny thing, " he continued, " We had a crew out here two weeks ago, and they removed all such hazards from the path. This is a Class two trail, which is only a step tougher than a handicapped access route. It is rated as excellent fare for the robust elderly and advanced toddlers. "

You should try it at the rate that I tried it this morning, thought Brenda.

" Where were you when all this excitement was going on? " asked the senior ranger.

" I had cut off the trail and ate my lunch. " She answered with a feeling of unrest. " Then I napped a while. " Brenda regretted not putting the pack in her car first. If they should demand to check it, she would have some explaining to do.

"I don't want to alarm you, young lady, " admonished the elder ranger, "but a lot of the water that runs through our little trail circuit here is fed by Fifty Acre Marsh. A woman a year has disappeared at Fifty Acre Marsh in the last two years."

Brenda quickly estimated that her pond was less than half that distance away and responded, " I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself. "

Defensively, the younger attendant rebutted, " Those two guys we just hauled out of here were bruisers and could take care of themselves too! " Then he saw icy fires come to her eyes and added softly, " I sure hope that bad luck doesn't run down hill for you, that's all. "

The old warden did not pursue Brenda's reply or his partner's last statement. Instead he announced with a stretch, " Well, it's been a long day for us all. " He turned to his junior officer and continued, " Let's pack it in. "

" See ya. " Called Brenda as she walked to her car with a sigh of relief. Too close, she thought. Another thought bled into her mind. The echo of voice earlier stated, " You are safe. Everything has been attended to. You have nothing to fear. " A smile melted onto Brenda's soft and full lips. She felt so warmly cared for.

CHAPTER THREE –

BE PREPARED - Boy Scouts of America

A sharp pain in Brenda's shoulder blade awoke her from the daydreams and memories. She had been propped against the tree for nearly forty minutes and the small charley horse that Brenda experienced was a signal that a stretch was needed. This would be as good a time as ever to hit the trail in was her thought.

Arising,she turned to face the nut tree. Brenda braced into it with her hands together and overlapping while she kept her feet a comfortable shoulder's width apart. Brenda forced the muscles in her back to slowly stretch as she pushed against the trunk. Tightening her buttocks, she stretched the hamstrings in her strong thighs and the muscles in her sculpted calves. Then, Brenda eased out of her spread position and shouldered her pack.

As she came upon trailhead, the family she had observed earlier was approaching the trail's entrance to make their exit from the woods. They looked so sullen with the mother and the youngest child in the lead. The older siblings followed on the heels of their mother and the father was the caboose of the solemn train.

As they passed Brenda, the mother gave her a sweeping once over, that ended with her firing another searing look of disapproval. Brenda smiled a forced cordial greeting and turned to the father who was sheepishly bringing up the rear. " That was a quick hike," she remarked.

He grinned at Brenda in return and offered as an alibi, " We took on a bit more walk than the kids could handle, I think."

Brenda doubted that the kids had called for an end to the hike. The man and his wife were the ones who appeared to be fatigued. " Have a nice one!" she called back to him as the adventurous femme started her own walk into the forest.

The woods were silent today, as the summer's cicadas had mated and burrowed into the earth. Their young would return to the surface in seven years. Looking at the changing foliage the venturesome lass noted that in spite of today's heat there had been some cold nights in mid-September. As Brenda walked, her mind roamed to the final events that contributed structure to today's foray, as they had occurred within the past two months.

The weekend following her encounter with the Old Man's phallic member had been a washout. Her son, Christopher, had gotten himself stranded in another state with a broken down car and no means to get it repaired or return home. He did have enough change for a phone-call, and it was his mother that he called. Christopher's directions were vague and it was not until late on Saturday afternoon that she finally located him. Brenda was far less than pleased to have her weekend taken from her so. She arranged with a local garage to have his car fixed and gave her son a ride back to their home.

On the trip home, Brenda asked her son to give her a ride and drop her off so that she could camp overnight on a future weekend. Christopher agreed with a promise, as he drew out a sandwich bag that had been concealed within his shirt. Holding the baggie up to the fading light of day, her son began counting the tan tablets it contained.

"What's in the bag, Chris?" asked Brenda.

Christopher might have many minor flaws to his personality, but he always boldly told the truth when he conversed with Brenda. Sometimes she wished that he had held back some information. " This is called 'E' mom." Christopher replied. " You know, the designer drug called Ecstasy."

Brenda had graduated from high school in the late sixties and drugs were not strange things to her. Although she had been offered chemical stimulants many times during her adolescent days, she had always declined, afraid of the 'bad trip'. Brenda had smoked Pot twice with her girlfriends, but had gotten caught. Her father had placed such a guilt-trip on her that she never smoked it again. She had also drank a few times with the same friends, but fell out of their clique when she stopped smoking marijuana. In a mother's probing style when they are trying to sound like a friend, she asked, " Chris, what exactly does it do to you?"

" It helps you to ditch your inhibitions, and get all fired up, " her son replied.

" Why would you want to do that? " Brenda inquired.

"To enhance your sexual experiences, " returned Christopher, and he continued, " there are some mild, but pleasing hallucinations that accompany its stipulation also. Gee mom, don't you ever watch the News or Sixty Minutes? "

" Is it addictive? " Brenda ventured.

" Nah, you just take one, maybe one and a half if you've got a 'hard-head', and enjoy the ride. You will never feel a need to take it again, although you might choose to."

" Is it expensive? " she probed.

" At last-call in the right bar, the price can go to thirty dollars for a tablet, " volunteered Chris. " Most of the time, the price is half that much. "

" Do you really need to have all that much with you? " Brenda queried as her final motherly question.

" Well mom, I sell the stuff from time to time, " stated Christopher as he placed the bag back in his shirt and turned his gaze away from his mother, to stare out the passenger window. The young man had lost his last job two months ago, just in time for summer.

Brenda drove on in silent turmoil. On the following week, while washing some of Christopher's laundry, she found a baggie that held five of the small and brown tablets. Brenda took two of them, and placed the bag with the remaining three on his dresser. He never said a word about it.

The weekend after that, there had been an Aunt's wake and funeral to attend. Once again, Brenda was frustrated to not be returning to her loving tree.

On Labor Day weekend, she had been stricken with flu. The illness left her too weak to return to the woods a week later also. The fevered dreams that came to Brenda during her affliction were of the times she had spent in the swamp. Her children tended to her needs during her sickness, and Brenda feared of disclosing secrets and sordid details as she ranted in mumbles under the fever's grip. The heavy blankets they placed on her bed to combat chills pleasantly reminded her of the mud's pressing weight.

The first weekend of October, it rained torrentially. It was a bittersweet feeling for Brenda. She knew the Old Man of the Woods needed the water badly to survive, yet the rain put her off from going into the woods to him. She did not want a return bout with influenza. The sickness was still at large and affecting people in her workplace.

Brenda developed a bad case of 'the guilts' however, when she weighed her promise to return. She wondered if he thought that she had forgotten him. As guilty feeling people sometimes do, she resolved to make it up to him. She made a self-commitment to returning to the Maple on the following weekend no matter what should occur. There were certain indulgences to be considered in her preparations for the reunion.

Brenda selected from her wardrobe, a form-fitting silk negligée. It was shiny and amethysts black with thin straps bearing a push-up bra front. Its hemline encircled her mid-thighs with another half-inch of gauzy trim beyond. She had worn this for Louis once, but he had come home late and drunk. Brenda had left their bed to sleep on the couch that night. She modeled it before a full length mirror, and added a black silken kerchief around her throat for a reckless appearance.

Finally, Brenda put on a pair of black pumps with ankle straps to lend a formal disposition to the outfit that she had selected for the ritual. The highheels accented her graceful leg muscles and caused the impetuous woman's fanny to rise high and tight.

The Brenda also searched her memory for any tidbit of information that might lead her to pleasing her arboreal lover. In particular, two tidbits came to her mind from the vision-dream which she had experienced, as she had lain unconscious at the tree's base.

The first of these was that her genitals had been hairless during the dream. Brenda bought some hair removing cream and on Wednesday eliminated every follicle on her body, except for her mane. Brenda stood in front of a full-length mirror and admired the beauty of her naked body. She hoped that her Old Man of the Woods would be pleased with her offering to him.

The second delicacy remembered from her dream was the caressing root's advances upon her withers. She had never engaged in anal sex with Louis, as he had neither the technique, nor the stamina to merit the event. Brenda knew from her readings, that if not handled correctly, sodomy could be a painful incident. Yet she whispered a resolution to give her body's final unexplored periphery to her Old Man of the Woods, as a gift of passion. Brenda filled a small vial with one-half petroleum jelly and one-half KY Gel to facilitate the deed.

On Tuesday of that week, Indian Summer began with prejudice. The weather had been near tropical and most air-conditioners removed from windows earlier were hastily reinstalled.

Christopher agreed to deliver Brenda for her overnight bivouac as long as they used her car, and he could borrow it for the balance of the weekend. The masterminding female made a phone call and her ride on the following afternoon was arranged. Her niece, Renada, would meet Brenda at a small Park Department rest area. It was four miles down the road from the parking lot, where she had waited to enter the woods today. Her son would be leaving her off there also. Brenda told herself that she had done this to keep her place secret, yet she had a gnawing feeling that there was another motivation for keeping the actual location hidden.

Brenda's attention returned to the present as she topped the final summit of her trek. The day's unseasonable heat and humidity had the buxom hiker drenched with perspiration as she approached the wooden bridge. The brook running beneath it was three times the size that she had seen it in July. It also showed signs of recently cresting two feet higher than it flowed presently. Brenda wondered whether the tree would be attainable if the pond was flooded.

She hastily edged into the trailside underbrush. The willowy branches whipped at her flesh as they snapped back from her path. Brenda cleared the other side of the bordering thicket and sprinted up the hillside to reach the Pine sheltered ridge. Through the thinned leaves the pond was visible to her, and it looked full of water. A light wind raced rippling waves along its dark surface. Had she not seen it dry, Brenda might have though the water to be holding fish.

Cutting to her left and towards the bay where the immense Maple was bedded a slightly discouraged hiker made her way to a patch of Mountain Laurel. As she emerged from the Laurel, Brenda saw that the bay rose gently away from the main pond and was only dimpled with puddles. It would take much more rain to hold the water at any depth here.

The basin had a darker and moister look to it and the downpours had erased all signs of Brenda's struggles with the quagmire. The Maple's chiseled phallus reached into the late afternoon air. Brenda un-shouldered her pack and sat on the whitening grass as she placed the pack at her side. Reclining back she rested in the cool shadow of the forest.

CHAPTER FOUR – Tonight's the night, it's gonna be alright. – R. Stuart

Her intention was to rest a few minutes, then reconnoiter the imposing Maple and the surrounding area. As she reposed, Brenda sent out a mental message that was targeted for the Old Man of the Woods. " I am back, I am here, " she thought. The searching female repeatedly broadcast the message for a period of fifteen minutes. There was no reply.

Brenda sat up and slipped out of her hiking boots and socks. The grassy hill had been in the late afternoon's shade and was a cool oasis. As she started across the barren bottom of the cove, the Sun's heat was stifling and the air seemed thinner. In her right hand, Brenda clenched a large neon green cylinder and her left hand held a jade green vial.

Upon reaching the mammoth tree, she inserted the spindle-like device in a pocket of the Maple's trunk. The rounded nosecone leaned away from the main trunk and almost touched the limb that Brenda had lovingly shaped during her last visit here. Twisting the small jar open, she used two fingertips to scoop out a generous glob. Brenda anointed the head of the wooden penis with the lubricating mixture. The substance was thin under the Sun's glare and some of it ran down the cock's length. Brenda dipped a second measure of the lubricant, and starting at the tree-dick's head, massaged it into the wooden ridges and valleys along its length. A final small treatment of the gels was left on the bulbous head as a thick greasy glaze.

Brenda stood back and regarded her efforts. The ridged wooden shaft was now dark and rich brown from the oils rubbed into it. It glistened in the sunlight and looked like an inviting masterpiece of erotic art. She could feel her arousal growing and knew that this might all be for naught. Unless Brenda could feel the Old Man's acknowledgment, she might have to credit any previous contact as a hallucination.

The shunned female walked to the far side of the Maple's girth and scanned the pond's bottom for signs of the ridge. The basin looked flat and undisturbed. Maybe it had all been delusion and nothing more. The quagmire looked unruffled, if there even was a bog there. Brenda returned to the beach grass and her spirit was as dimmed with doubts as the last rays of the day's sun.

Once she had the blanket spread out, Brenda peeled off her watch and sweat-saturated clothing, trading them for the negligee and the black scarf that she had carried into the woods. Its silky smoothness against her shaved vagina's sensitive skin was electrifying and caused Brenda to tremble. She snugly banded the scarf around her throat and knotted it.

Returning to the pack, Brenda removed the blackberry brandy and a baggie holding two brown tablets. She opened the bottle and sipped some of the brandy. It was thick, sweet and she could feel the warmth that it carried descending into her throat. This had always been her favorite liquor. Brenda coaxed a tablet from the bag and washed it down with a second draft of the brandy.

A final ferreting of the backpack resulted in Brenda drawing out the black highheels. She glided her feet into them, and cinched the ankle straps snuggly in place. As she imbibed a much longer draught of the syrupy elixir, Brenda mused that she had never looked better for anybody, than she looked right then. Brenda knew that she had never been more committed to joining with another as she was right then also.

She arose and postured herself with hands on hips, and feet set a shoulder's width apart while she regarded the immense tree. Brenda scooped her finger back into the little green jar and raising the back of her negligée, worked the pliant gel around and briefly in past her sphincter. The grease spread fluidly across her eager flesh and she applied it thickly. She believed that her preparations were complete, and she smoothed the silky garment back down over her slippery rump. She took several steps and marveled at the sensation of her greased gluts as her ass's cheeks sensuously slid against each other with every stride.

Brenda began to slowly strut saucily, back and forth, along the grassed beach. As she did this, she focused on transmitting a mental message to the Old Man of the Woods. " I am here, " she whispered aloud and repeated twice, "and I am ready for you. " Brenda had never thrown herself at anyone, and as she returned to her blanket she reflected at how sexy it made her feel about herself. The taunting woman gyrated her hips in small circles and ended with a provocative thrust of her silk-clad pelvis towards the soundless tree. Then, she eased her body back down to the blanket, to wait.

The daylight faded and the bottle drained. Brenda believed that she did not feel any unusual effects from the pill. If anything, she was feeling more alert than she should be at the bottle's halfway point. She impatiently took the second tablet with a mouthful of the blackberry potion and chewed it. She washed down the remaining fragments with another sip.