The female form is the universe’s most alluring creation.
So beautiful in fact, it stirs craving even within its own kind.
MY FIRST INSTINCT was to pull over to the side of the road and take a selfie with the cute little vegetable stand. It would have looked great up on my Bluesky, with the rural landscape background and all.
But I had made a promise to Priscilla during our conversation over Zoom that I would keep all our interaction private.
And so I kept my word, leaving my iphone in my purse as I turned onto the old beaten path just past the roadside veggie stand.
Although only an hour outside city limits, I had never been this far out in the countryside, and found the surroundings to be peacefully inviting.
A quarter mile down the dirt road and I pulled up to the Honeysuckle Haven. The small business that I had been hoping to land a summer internship at.
I had just completed my first year of college as a Creative Writing student, and had felt drawn to the posting up on the department’s bulletin board.
Three months of being paid to write, plus school credit and room and board.
I didn’t know how many students were applying for the position and could only keep my fingers crossed as I headed in for my second interview.
The house was country décor and reflected Priscilla’s personality.
She had a good twenty years on me, but wore it very well, not afraid to show her slender body with fitted jeans and a blouse that complimented a toned tummy and full breasts.
Long dark hair tied up at the back gave a clue of a lady who was about getting things done, yet still had a mysterious side that could let it all go for some of life’s more passionate moments.
Her face was one of beauty, with a big Julia Roberts smile, the few lines time had etched into it actually enhancing the allure of her aesthetics.
I sat down with the honeysuckle iced tea I had been offered and listened close to the woman I hoped to soon be working for.
“We make everything from honeysuckle teas to soaps, jellies to perfumes. I’m currently staffed with a dozen workers, given the fact that we’re entering our peak season.
“Every summer I also work with your school in offering an internship, with each year’s chosen recipient moving in for the three months we’re at our most busiest.
“If you do end up working here you’ll see that I’m all about structure, because it’s the only way a business like this can work.
“For our intern, this means a schedule centered around the written word.
“Basically, your day would be divided into fourths, with the first quarter being spent working on our company website.
“Blogging, product descriptions, answering emails, stuff like that.
The next twenty-five percent goes towards your creative writing. Whether you wanna write a book, songs, poetry, etcetera. It’s up to you.
The third portion of your work day has to be devoted to reading, because let’s face it, besides real-life experience, there’s no greater teaching tool.
And my library consists of over a thousand books. So it doesn’t matter if you’re into the classics or today’s bestsellers, you’re bound to find at least a few page-turners to fall in love with.
“And then there’s the last part of your work day, which will actually be going on throughout your waking hours.
“A personal journal about what you’re experiencing, in real time.
“But more on that later, if we get to that point. So, any questions so far?”
“Actually, I do have one,
“I think it’s great that you’re giving creative writers this opportunity, but I still don’t see the benefit you’re getting from it.
“I mean yeah, there’s the couple of hours a day spent on your website, but that doesn’t seem enough for what you’re offering.”
Priscilla took a sip of her tea, then went on to explain.
“I appreciate your observations. The truth of the matter is, I used to be a writer too.
“Then again, once a writer, always a writer, right?”
We shared a knowing smile.
“A couple of decades ago I was sitting in those same classrooms you’re now studying in. That’s how I know your department head, Ms. Tarbox.
“Of course, back then she was just a teacher, but one that had a profound effect on me as a student.
“Thanks to her lessons and encouragement I went on to work as a copywriter at one of New York’s most prestigious ad firms.
“Now when I say copywriter, I don’t mean the kind of crap you find in the marketplace of Facebook and Craigslist.
“Back then copywriting was another form of storytelling, not the SEO bullshit so many try to make it out to be today.”
I couldn't help but nod in agreement at that.
“So the success I found in copy allowed me to retire early, and since I’ve always had a fondness for honeysuckles, well, here I am.
“But to answer your question, it’s just my way of giving back.
“And the companionship that sometimes comes along with it is nice too.
“Now back to the particulars of the job.
“Although it may sound like an easy way to make a few thousand dollars by the end of the summer, the level of commitment required would prove difficult for just about anyone.
“As you’ll probably recall during our Zoom chat, I asked you two questions.
“One was if you currently have a boyfriend, and the second, if the right opportunity came along, would you be able to leave your life behind for the summer.
“If you would have answered Yes to the first and No to the second, you wouldn’t be sitting here today.
“But because your response was what I was looking for, we’re able to proceed.
“You’ll be required to spend the entire summer here, with no trips to the city. In other words, I’ll expect the same level of dedication from you as displayed from our great authors of the past.
“In order to write convincingly, truthfully, one must be willing to allow themselves to be absorbed by the world of which they are describing.
“Sure imagination counts for a lot of it, but when a writer has the opportunity to actually live it, breathe it, the authenticity that comes out of it is undeniable.
“This is where problems sometimes arise. I know how attached your generation is to your devices and all, but I have to insist you stay offline while you’re here.
“You’ll be free to contact your parents any time you want, via my landline, but other than that, outside communication will be off limits, as it only serves as a distraction.
“To ensure you understand what is being asked of you, you’ll be required to sign a contract, and if at any point it’s violated, the deal will be terminated, with no compensation.
“I know this all sounds a little harsh, but I’ve learned by experience, so measures have to be taken.
For those who have stuck it out, they’ve went on to have very rewarding writing careers.”
I remained silent, trying to process all this.
“Yeah, it could be a lot to take in,” Priscilla continued, “which is why I’m going to give you twenty-four hours to decide.
So there’s just one more part of this interview, and then we’ll be finished for today.”
She walked over to her desk and retrieved a pen and paper from one of its drawers.
“I’ve already looked over your grades and spoken to Ms. Tarbox, but I’m still going to need a writing sample from you right now.
“It’s not timed, you can take as long as you want. What I’m looking for is honesty. The courage to tell the truth.
“I want you to choose something you would never dream of sharing in one of your Creative Writing classes.
“An intimate secret that is so personal you might not even share it with your best friend.
“It doesn’t have to be long. Only great in substance.
“I’ll then call you tomorrow, once you’ve had ample time to consider everything, and if you’re still interested, I’ll notify you by the end of the week to let you know my decision.”
Priscilla then left me alone to put pen to paper.
For the past six years I’ve ended my birthday in the same way. After all the greetings, presents, cake and ice cream. After I take my shower, brush my teeth, and lock my bedroom door for the night, I stand in front of my wall mirror, naked.
A tradition of assessing my ever-changing body. From inspecting the breasts slowly growing out of my chest to the small hairs sprouting below my waist. Each year it was as if someone new was being reflected for my eyes to take in.
I lifted the ball point of the pen from off the paper and thought about how much further I should go.
‘An Intimate secret that is so personal…’
I continued writing.
It wasn’t until my Sweet Sixteen that I had learned about the clitoris in health class, curiosity leading me to go in search of my own.
Our teacher told us about the over eight thousand nerve endings this organ has. A miraculous part of the female anatomy, its sole purpose being for pleasure.
Feeling as if I were doing something wrong, I refused to touch it, just trying to get a good look at it by gently pulling its hood back with my fingertips.
Like a little hidden pearl it just sat there, protruding from my glistering pink flesh. What If I did touch it?
Just to see how it felt?
Just to…
I was in heaven, unable to bring myself to stop!
All this time it had been down there waiting for me, but it wasn’t until the first night of my sixteenth year on earth that I first discovered the amazing pleasure my body was capable of producing.
Last month, on my eighteenth birthday, I approached the mirror for the seventh time.
This time my eyes not only found a more blossomed body, but along with this sight came a deep feeling of sorrow.
Those beautifully developing breasts sitting high across my chest had been fondled by hands I had held for six months. Sucked by a mouth that had promised to never leave me.
My delicate flower below my hidden pearl having bled for his lying, conniving cock, opening back up to it whenever he so desired.
Only to be abandoned a month before graduation.
Claiming it to be for the best, that long-distance relationships never worked out, he went out into this world without me.
Why had I been so careless in giving away what I could never get back?
Logic tells me it’s part of growing up, but my heart says otherwise.
Whatever the case may be, I am certain of one thing.
Words have gotten me through it. They are my solace, my savior, my future.
My first night in my new bedroom was a life-long memory in the making.
Screened windows kept open throughout the house allowed for the calm summer breeze to blow in, filling every room with the sweet aroma of honeysuckle growing out back.
My mattress and pillows were petal-soft, like lying on a bed of flowers, excitement for this new opportunity growing with each and every thought about my writing future.
Being able to devote the whole vacation to my passion, along with Pricilla’s guidance and connections, could very well land me a publishing deal a lot sooner than I had first anticipated.
And so this was the aspiration I fell asleep to.
My future books lining the shelves of book stores, my pen signing one copy after another as eager fans waited in line to shower me with compliments.
Author Katie Wells.
Who knew there was so much to learn from the world of honeysuckle?
Priscilla assured me that I need not attempt to memorize everything.
That a basic understanding of the business was all I had to concern myself with.
But that didn’t stop my eager nature from following along with clipboard in hand, jaunting down notes every time a fact was given.
I was introduced to the six staff members, all female, and had watched with fascination as the transformation process from flower to product took place.
Next I was taken on a tour of what my boss referred to as ‘the womb.’
Aisles and aisles of honeysuckle, separated by color, united by that sweet fragrance that brought on the desire to taste.
“There are nearly one hundred and eighty species in the honeysuckle family,” Priscilla explained, “but we only grow about twelve here.”
“Do they all have the same flavors?” I asked.
“You know, that’s one of the reasons why I chose you.
“Your curious nature.”
She reached up and plucked a velvet flower from the row to our right, then pulled a white one from the dew-slick vine across from it.
“To most, the taste, like the scent, is identical. But if you know what to look for, your taste buds will be able to differentiate one from another.
“You see this little green bud where the flower connects to the stem? It’s called the calyx. This is where you separate the two, which then gives you access to the string, officially called ‘the style’.
“You pull it out…
“And you’re ready to suck.
“Now here’s a little secret. Most people will just go straight in for that droplet of nectar, sucking so hard it’s as if they’re raping the poor thing.
“As with anything so delicate and beautiful, care should be taken. First you wanna place the severed stem against your saliva.”
I watched as Priscilla did just that, sticking out her pink wet tongue and gently placing the open stem on it.
She held it there for a few seconds, slowly twirling the flower around between her thumb and index finger.
“Now that she feels relaxed, unthreatened, despite her last few moments of life, the release of the nectar will be voluntary, assuring you get the fullness of her sweet center.”
Priscilla brought the wet stem up to my mouth, prompting me to part my lips, then slid the open honeysuckle in until it made contact with my tongue.
“Envision her little insides reaching out to draw you in.
“Take hold of her body by sealing your lips around her stem.
“Now suck, the gift of her honey being passed from her to you.
“Your taste buds opening to it, absorbing it. Basking in it.”
How could one droplet be so sweet, so satisfying?
I didn’t know, but certainly had never experienced anything like it before.
Priscilla handed me the velvet flower. “You do the next one.”
I followed the same steps, with the same timing, mindful of every moment like I had just been taught.
When finished, I looked up to my mentor.
“The velvet one is a little less sweet. A little…
Roasted.”
Priscilla smiled, while I was in awe.
The following weekend the Honeysuckle Haven was taking part in its small community’s annual jamboree. A street fair of sorts where city folks came to get a taste of the simple life.
The honeysuckle booth was one of the most popular, with decorative vines serving as free samples to what customers could expect from the array of products being sold.
Our crew of six and our leader were working like busy bees, while every now and then I took a break from my blogging and real-time posting to help out.
It only had been a week, but I felt I had been away from civilization for at least a month. In a good way, that is.
How strange these people looked, hardly looking up from their devices to enjoy their surroundings.
And even then it was only to take selfies and the like.
And to think, I had been one of them.
By the time the sun set our Honeysuckle Haven booth was pretty much sold out of inventory, happy to be packing up and calling it a day.
When we got home I headed for the shower, while Priscilla chose to relax in the bathtub of her master bedroom.
I then went on the company computer to post the blog and update the site, the urge to go to my personal social media now starting to bug me.
But the last thing I wanted to do was violate my boss’s trust, so with the pleasant thought of writing in my journal, I pulled myself away.
There were only a few entries to date.
Mainly my thoughts on the two books I had read so far.
One by Ken Follett, whom I regard as a master plotter, the other, Anne Rice, whose descriptions was a masterclass in poetic storytelling.
But the one I held dearest was the first. It was right after Priscilla had given me the lesson on indulging in honeysuckle.
She had handed me the soft bound journal when we returned to the house, along with an instruction on how to use it.
“Whenever you feel like you’ve gained an insight into one of life’s providing moments, whether you perceive it as positive or negative, chronicle it here.”
I wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but had already felt an urge to write something about my first experience in ‘the womb.’
I feel my eyes have been opened in more ways than one. Does everything which surrounds us have such hidden depth?
And what am I to make of this new craving I have inside?
Is it wrong to be attracted to something so similar to myself?
A sensual longing I dare not bring to light, keeping this wonder, which I feel is on the verge of becoming a fantasy, hidden in the dark.
That night I had reread my written words, the question of being right or wrong with such an intimate desire reminding me of the first night of my sixteenth year.
The courage to move forward and explore had taken me to sensual heights I could never have imagined.
So why suppress this new hunger?
With thoughts of sharing honeysuckle, which in my mind’s eye was as passionate as sharing a kiss, I had allowed the touch of my hand to add sensation to the mental image that was now indeed a fantasy.
Thinking back on it aroused me, and now all I wanted to do was turn off the lights, get into bed, and revisit that special place.
But not before letting Priscilla know the blog had been posted, as requested.
Journal still in hand I headed for the master bedroom, knocking before entering and following when Priscilla called out, “In here…”
The bathroom door was open.
Not wanting to invade her privacy, I stopped at the doorway, my line of sight going no further than the foot of the tub.
“I just wanted to let you know I posted the blog. It’s live now. Goodnight.”
“How’s our social media doing?
“Come on in.”
Hesitant, I took a few steps inside, until I was near the edge of the bath that held the woman who was part of my secret daydreams.
I didn’t know where to look, afraid that eye contact would give Priscilla the ability to see right through me, while taking my gaze lower could lead to even more dangerous territory.
I settled on one of the many honeysuckle flowers floating on the surface of the water.
“Tiktok follows are up eighteen percent, X likes, twenty-five percent. I-”
Priscilla shifted her submerged body a bit, the petals riding the body of water being followed by my eyes until they reached another blossom of beauty.
It took a second for me to identify that it was in fact one of Priscilla’s luscious nipples, the flower dancing around the areola as water rose and fell over it like waves on a calm beach.
My eyes shot up to Priscilla’s.
“Um, I replied to a few emails. They were just inquiring about placing orders.”
“How’s your inner thoughts coming along?”
I didn’t know how to answer the question, until Priscilla withdrew a hand from underneath the water and used it to gesture to the journal I now held close.
“Oh, I’m learning a lot.
“About myself.
“The books I’m reading.
“Everything.”
Like a dear lost in headlights, I hadn’t realized my deep stare upon Priscilla’s other breast, which was now fully exposed like an exotic island, until it was too late.
Once again my eyes snapped back up…
Only this time my boss’s look had changed to one of pleasant understanding.
“Open your journal, Katie.”
So nervous I would have fallen to the floor if not for the excitement holding me up, I did as instructed, removing the pen from the journal’s spine and uncapping it before positioning the ballpoint over the paper.
Priscilla took hold of the sides of her tub and slowly began to rise herself out of the bath, facing my wanderlust as the water cascaded down off her long gorgeous body, some of the flowers sticking to her skin.
My knees felt like they were going to buckle at any time, my mentor standing there baring all to serve as muse for my creative writing.
As my eyes absorb the splendor of the most erotic visual they have ever beheld, taking in every mesmerizing detail like one of those High Definition nature cameras, my body can no longer hold back, reflecting every little drop of water with a wetness of its own as I now fully understand Shakespeare’s line, ‘For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.’
As Priscilla stepped up and out of the tub I stepped back, timid as a fawn, yet still curious by nature.
The Aphrodite, with her inviting all-knowing smile, reached out to take my hand, then led me to the bedroom, to the foot of the queen-sized bed.
My journal and pen were taken from my grasp, replaced by those lovely long fingers which glided over my hands from fingertips to palms.
With uninterrupted fluidity they found their way to the backs of my hands, before being lifted to Priscilla’s perfect breasts.
Perfect through my eyes, as I started off with a light squeeze, then cupping them before running my thumbs over those deliciously thick nipples, areolas the size of silver dollars.
I kept hold of them while Priscilla reached up to caress my hair, bringing her hand to a rest once it arrived at the back of my neck.
She leaned in while opening her mouth, so I parted my lips to receive…
The softness of Priscilla’s.
The wet tongue, which slid in to make contact.
And course into a little mingle, a little play.
Soft. Lost in softness.
Until Priscilla withdrew, using her embracing hand to guide my thirsty mouth to her breast.
Where I indeed explored, like an infant learning to suckle, the firm nipple finding itself being grazed against teeth, savored by lips and tongue.
Too wet between my legs, too weak in the knees, I collapsed into Priscilla’s arms before she laid me down on the bed and began to open my top one button at a time.
Like a curtain being drawn back for the sun, my perky breasts were now exposed, the more mature ones lowered down until nipple met nipple.
The rubbing sent a new wave of moister through me, Priscilla’s mouth then coming down for a taste.
I couldn’t help it, the moan which escaped alongside my heavy exhale catching me by surprise.
But I no longer cared, all inhibitions a thing of the past as I began to squirm from a pussy on fire.
And how I thanked the heavens when those long fingers stripped away my shorts.
I was so wet by now I felt as though I had peed, and when Priscilla’s mouth found my pussy I was thrown into a possessed arch, the stimulation overtaking all other senses.
Once my sight came back into focus I looked down, having to see what my boss was doing to me.
That wide open mouth was sealed around my entire pussy, Priscilla sucking me like a honeysuckle, her tongue simultaneously licking up the nectar which flowed.
I started to involuntarily twitch, letting my head fall back onto the mattress, allowing myself to shatter as the power of orgasm exploded throughout me.
Barely giving me enough time to recover, Priscilla sat back up and brought a leg up over my head, to where a knee was by each ear, her pussy now within tongue’s reach from my mouth.
Like honeydew resting atop flower petals, small beads of secretion were sprinkled across Priscilla’s glistening pussy lips.
I reached up with my tongue to make contact with, and absorb, one droplet…
Then two.
And three.
Each dissolving atop the tip of it, each like the single droplet of honey produced by a flower.
These two petals were full of them, and so I lifted my head while slightly turning it to the side, placing my lips over one, sucking like my mentor had done, the wetness flowing over my tongue and down my throat.
I did the same with the other, then curiosity led me to bring up two fingers and spread the petals apart.
It was a wet tunnel of pink, as I used a fingertip to gently explore, before once again reaching up with my tongue and doing so orally.
Having had a taste of the outer walls I then went in deeper, fascinated by how the hole opened up to me yet still remained snug.
Once I had pushed it in as far as I could, Priscilla began to work her inner muscles, her pussy having a little fun by sucking my tongue.
She lifted herself off me for a moment.
I heard the sound of a drawer opening, then closing.
Pussy was now back above my face, the sound of a light buzz clicking on, then those long fingers of Priscilla’s placing a long vibrator into one of my hands and guiding it to the pink tunnel I had just tasted.
Nervous butterflies fluttering with excitement flew around in my stomach as I inserted the head of the silicone cock inside Priscilla.
I pushed it in an inch more, before withdrawing and doing it again.
The more of the vibrating mechanism I pushed up into her, the more Priscilla’s pelvis would feed off it, as if the cock were another form of honeysuckle.
After a couple of minutes of being mesmerized by fucking my boss, I was abruptly pulled out of it by Priscilla reaching down and withdrawing the vibrator.
It was now covered in her juices.
She reached down to cup the back of my head. I was once again her babe, the drenched vibrator now my bottle to suck on.
Her next move was to turn the dial at its base to crank up the speed.
There went those butterflies fluttering about, for I knew it was now my turn.
Priscilla leaned down to where we were now in 69, spreading open my legs, then my soaked pussy.
Once the vibrating tip was inserted she used the other hand to unearth my clit, which was already engorged with boiling blood.
The first few licks sent me reeling in shocked pleasure, then swimming in the state of bliss as Priscilla fucked me with the silicone while polishing my pearl.
Compelled to test out the waves of ecstasy by riding them with my pelvis like my mentor had done, I started off small, but soon was using my youthful body to my advantage, gathering up one powerful wave after another in rapid succession,
Priscilla matching the output of energy with her own, until…
I burst into a supernova orgasm.
Amidst the aftermath, Priscilla handed me my journal and pen, at which time, I, The Honeysuckle Intern wrote,
I’ve just flown amongst the stars, and am now dripping in diamonds.
~
Soon to be a graphic novel, here are a few sample pages for you to enjoy…
