I recoil in disgust. What is it with you, constantly forcing me to submit to your perversions? I've been with a lot of guys over the years, but none with your set of peculiar proclivities. It's starting to get on my last nerve.
"Don't be stupid. I'm not going to touch it. It's bad luck."
You drop to your knees before me, digging around in the brush. I stare at you in bewilderment.
"What are doing?"
"Looking for a mandrake plant. They say when a hanged man cums, his seed drops to the ground, and a mandrake plant sprouts up. When you pull it out of the ground, it screams."
I gaze at you, wondering at your insatiable need to fabricate. You seem to do that a lot lately. I hear the rope begin to creak from the weight of the body suspended from it. A small wind picks up, causing the body to sway back and forth. I'm starting to get the creeps.
"We should go. It's getting dark; we should go and tell someone what we've found."
You stop searching for the root and crawl over to where I'm standing. Your hands grab my waist, pulling me down to your level.
"Let's do it. Let's fuck right here, under this tree."
You throw your weight on top of me, knocking me on my back, forcing my skirt up as you struggle with your jeans. I look at the body hanging from the tree above us, his face all puffy and purple, his eyes bulging from their sockets, his tongue black and swollen. I close my eyes and try to resist, but you're all ready balls deep. I take a deep breath, listening to the wind pick up, the steady sound of the rope creaking faster and faster.
"Get on top. I want to watch him."
You flip onto your back; I straddle your waist, hoping this position will make you cum faster so we can get the hell out of here. I'm so done with you, really I am. There's nothing you can say that will make me change my mind this time. I'm, what's that word? I'm adamant, yea,that's it, I'm adamant this time.
I scream slightly as a low guttural moan pierces the air; I look above me, thinking our friend has come back to life, but I realize it's only you climaxing. You begin to laugh at me.
"What's the matter? Don't you like an audience?"
I slide off you, kicking your boot with my sneaker. I'm done, I'm done, I'm done. I stand up and begin to rearrange my clothes.
"I'm outta here. Find someone else to get freaky with."
I start to walk out of the woods as you begin to shout your usual protests. At one point I turn back, trying to see if you're following me. In the waning light I can see you still lying on your back. I catch my breath; it almost looks as if there's someone standing above you. Someone with a purple face, and black swollen tongue.