For a long time the cactus just sat there. “Are you lonely?” Emma asked it one day. “Sometimes it’s okay to be lonely. But sometimes, you just need...”

Emma brought her hand close to the stem of the cactus. The tiny spines looked sharp but at the same time soft. “You’re not going to prick me, are you?” Emma asked. Cautiously she touched the cactus. Her hand trembled. Slowly she let her finger caress upwards along the stem. She felt a mild tingle, not just in her hand but throughout her body. “Does that feel good?” she asked. She repeated the caress. The tingling swept over her, like the mildest electric shock. “Nice boy,” she said, stroking upward gently, again and again.

After a while, a milky puddle gathered at the crown. With each stroke, the puddle grew, eventually almost to overflowing. Emma dabbed her fingertip into the pool. Slightly sticky. She took a taste from her finger.

“Good,” she said to the cactus. “Good boy. I’ll let you rest now.”

Quiet a few minutes into the fuck, Emma riding Mat upon the living room rug with leisurely ease, she happened to glance at the smooth green pot which contained her little cactus, and the little cactus was getting big, getting bigger and bigger with each plunge upon Mat’s cock. “Oh Mat,” she moaned. “Oh Mat, you’re going to ... Too much, it’s going to ... Crack the ... Oh, oh, oh!”

Overnight Emma’s cactus bloomed. She had not expected it.

Carefully she brought a fingertip to one of the bright petals. The cactus quivered. She dipped her fingertip deeper into the bloom. It gripped her finger like a newborn baby.