Charlotte Sommers loved the outdoors.  While other sixteen-year-olds were listening to radios, watching movies or dating boys, Charlie preferred to be outdoors.  Not that she was even interested in organisations like the Girl Guides, hell no!  Too structured.  Too rigid.  She just loved her own company and the company of Mother Nature.  There was nothing she liked more than donning her backpack and hiking through the national park in the hills behind her parents’ home.  Her parents were middle-aged when she was born and they never had any more children, so they fulfilled her every whim and forgave her eccentricities.

On one hot summer afternoon Charlie, her nose sunburnt and her bare legs covered in scratches, was exploring the national park’s walking tracks when she decided to take a breather.  Sitting on a fallen tree and drinking the last of her water (and wishing she had brought more), her serenity was broken by something that brushed against her calf.  Although she loved the outdoors, Charlie had no special fondness for creepy-crawlies, especially creepy-crawlies creeping and crawling on her.  She was relieved to see that it was just a small fern-like plant growing in the shade of the log.  The fern was no bigger than her hand and consisted of three tiny, strappy, frond-like leaves coming from a minute woody stem.  What caught Charlie’s attention was the leaves were gently swaying in the dead calm of a stifling summer afternoon.  Fascinated, she took a close look at this marvel in miniature and saw that the leaves were covered in a fine fur, a bit like the Lamb’s Ears that were growing in her mother’s fernery.

The closer she got to the fern, the more the fronds danced until one lightly brushed the tip of her nose.  Charlie giggled with delight and decided there and then that she must have this little beauty.  Looking around to see that she was not being observed, she used her pocketknife to dig a substantial root ball around the fern and lifted it from the earth.  Shaking out the last few drops of water from her canteen, Charlie moistened her handkerchief and gently wrapped it around the root ball.  It was a long walk home, but she cradled the precious little thing in her hands all the way.  As soon as she got home Charlie lovingly planted the fern of her mother’s fernery, watered it, and then promptly forgot it.

***

Time passed.  Months turned into years and years turned into decades.  Boyfriends finally came to Charlie.  She finished school and moved away from home.  Got herself a degree, a post-grad qualification and a highly paid job.  Along the way, she found a husband, had three wonderful children, bought a house, holidayed overseas and lived in glorious domestic bliss.  And then the divorce came.  It was amicable enough; it was simply that as the children grew older, they found they had nothing in common.  Over the years they had simply grown apart.  This was about the time that her father passed away and despite many attempts to convince her otherwise, her mother simply wouldn’t leave the family home.  She would recline in her big, old lawn chair for hours, alone in her fernery, listening to the sounds of nature.  Charlie’s fortieth birthday came and went, her ex-husband remarried and fathered more children, and her mother’s health slowly ebbed away.

Being an only child, Charlie took her responsibilities to her mother very seriously and when her mother passed away Charlie found herself in her late forties with no steady partner and grown children that had scattered to the four winds.  Although Charlie had continued to hike throughout her life, now without family commitments and with the freedom and money to indulge herself, she threw herself whole-heartedly into her childhood passion and spent time travelling the world and trekked anywhere and everywhere she could.

With her fiftieth birthday a little over a year away, Charlie was back where it all began.  Without realising it she had begun to spend more time at her family home in the country rather than her own home in the city.  Wi-Fi was good enough that her presence at work was more or less optional, which means that she could do her work effectively no matter where she lived.  The country air was an invigorating tonic, and she began to understand her mother’s insistence on spending the last years of her life alone in this tranquillity.

***

 One summer evening, Charlie was sitting in the fernery when a movement caught her eye.  She looked over into a secluded corner and she noticed a mass of strappy fronds slowly swaying; it was her old friend from so many years ago.  It was no longer the tiny thing that she could cradle in her hands though, it had grown to take over most of that end of the fernery, but, strangely, in all the years she lived there she had not even noticed it until now.  The fronds danced in the evening twilight and Charlie smiled at her old friend.  The watering system her father installed kept the ferns well-watered, but for some reason, her mother always kept a spray bottle in the fernery to spray the ferns; “we all like a drink now and then” she would say.  Even though the watering system still worked well, and she had never used a spray bottle, for some reason she always had a bottle of fresh water on hand.  Remembering her mother’s words, Charlie said:

“Thirsty, are we?”

Reaching for the bottle, Charlie sprayed the water over the dancing fronds.  Immediately they began to dance frantically, writhing in the mist.  Smiling, she sprayed more water over the fronds and again they danced.  In the failing light, she moved in to take a closer look at her old friend and one of the fronds touched her nose. 

“You remember me!”

Laughing, Charlie walked into the house, feeling happier than she had for a long time.

All summer Charlie watched her old friend, talked to it even, and from time to time the fronds would do their little dance and Charlie would spray water into the air, and laughed the whole time.  As the summer faded the fronds danced less often and this little bit of fun in Charlie’s life seems to dim also.

***

Charlie moved listlessly from room to room in the house she grew up in.  Even though it was almost mid-autumn it was as hot as it was at any time during the summer.  Too hot even to walk through the hills she loved so much.  As the mid-afternoon sun beat down, Charlie decided that what she needed was a stiff drink and a long soak in the pool.  She found herself in the bedroom, where she rifled through her dresser to find her bathers.  While getting changed she looked down at her body; years of walking had kept her reasonably trim and her nipples were more or less still pointing in the right direction, but a quick glimpse in the mirror showed that years in the sun had not been kind to her skin, even with all the moisturiser she’d been slathering on over the years.  Charlie grabbed a bottle of red and a towel, walked to the pool and poured herself a drink.  She took a big mouthful of half reasonable wine, walked to the edge of the pool and dove in.

Charlie sat in the inflatable pool lounge as it lazily floated in the pool and lamented the fact that she left her drink on the table.  Another glass would be great just now.  Deep in contemplation, she looked at her dark blue swimsuit.  When did she stop wearing bikinis and start wearing one-pieces? When did youth slip away into late middle age?  Although Charlie enjoyed being alone, she still longed for the occasional company.  A decent man now and again isn’t too much to ask for, was it?  With a sigh, Charlie paddled the lounge to the edge of the pool and climbed the ladder with considerable effort on her behalf.  She walked over to the table where she had left her drink and noticed that she had three messages on her smartphone.

“Damn all mobiles to hell” she fumed, “the world was better off without them!”

This was defiantly not the company she was after.  One text is from her son, probably asking for more money she thought.  In a moment of reproachful silence, she realised that that was unfair.  Ken rarely asked for money and going to college interstate was an expensive undertaking.  The other two texts were from work.  Even being on holiday and semi-retired, her help was always required to sort out issues that others should be able to deal with.  What it was to be loved!  The sooner she dealt with the texts the sooner she could get back to her restlessness. With a sigh of resignation, Charlie inelegantly plonked herself down on her mother’s old lawn chair and began to perform her duty to the gods of new technology.

As she worked on her last text, Charlie felt something brush against her hair.  She turned around and saw her old friend dancing in the breeze.  With a laugh she said,

“I see the hot weather has brought of out of hiding.  I’ll get you a drink in a minute.”

The fronds began to flick against her hair and the still damp skin of her back and it felt as if she was receiving a very gently back massage. 

“You can massage all you like, but no drink until I’m done!”

The constant stroking of her hair and back distracted Charlie as she tried to compose a text that would firmly tell the guys at work that a holiday meant a holiday, even if one did work from home.  With the text finally completed, she got up and walked over to the spray bottle.

“As a reward for a marvellous backrub, you can have a drink.”

Spraying the water into the air made dozens of fronds shoot out and dance in the mist, many more than she had ever seen before.  Another spray and the air was alive with writhing fronds. Now that would be one hell of a backrub, she thought to herself.  Suddenly a naughty thought popped into her head; on impulse, she slipped the straps of her bathers off her shoulders, exposed her breasts and stepped into the writhing mass of fronds.  Immediately the fronds started to gently stroke her breasts and brush against her nipples.

“Mmmm, that’s better than a backrub!” she cooed.

Charlie felt as though dozens of soft fingertips were stroking her breasts.  Her nipples hardened as the fronds gently massaged them.  She closed her eyes, lay back her head and let out a soft sigh.  Smiling to herself, Charlie relished this sexy new sensation.  She stepped out of the fronds, rolled down her bathers to expose her midriff, sprayed her body liberally with water and stepped back into the fray.  The fronds wildly thrashed against her wet skin, making her feel as if she was being gently massaged all over by many eager hands.  Fronds brushed against her face and lips and made her feel as if a lover was smothering her with soft kisses.  Her arms, breasts and stomach were being relentlessly stroked.  Her nipples were painfully hard as the soft fronds rapidly flicked across them.  Her skin was alive with sensation.  Several fronds began to stroke her thighs.  Charlie changed her stance to give them greater access and they immediately started to explore the freshly exposed flesh.  She moved her feet further apart and the frond began to brush against the crouch of her bathers.  A long, loud moan escaped her lips. 

Suddenly self-conscious, she stepped out of the range of the fronds and covered her breasts with her arms.  What the hell was she doing?  What kind of pervert was she?  Embarrassed, Charlie quickly pulled up her bathers and slipped her arms back through the straps.  She walked back to her warm bottle of wine and looked over at her old friend almost accusingly.  She couldn’t deny that she enjoyed the sensation; her heart was pounding, her nipples were still hard and the wetness between her legs had little to do with her damp bathers.  She decided to go inside, get her vibrator and fuck herself stupid.  Then Charlie came to a sudden realisation, that there was no real difference between using a vibrator to get my rocks off and standing in the embrace of dozens of soft fronds.  Besides, it was autumn, and it may be six months for “he” made a re-appearance.  With sudden determination, she exclaimed to the world,

“And hell, why shouldn’t I?”

Before she could change her mind, Charlie refilled the spray bottle, briskly walked back to her old friend and cast off her bathers.  With a smile she thought to herself; “Guess that answers the question about what kind of a pervert I am!”

After spraying her breasts, stomach and legs Charlie again moved toward her old friend and was immediately rewarded by several strokes against her damp skin.  Charlie took a deep breath to prepare herself, closed her eyes and apprehensively took another step forward, then another, until the fronds completely engulfed her.  The sensation of having the moisture “licked” off her entire skin surface was almost overwhelming.  The fronds ran through her still damp hair, caressed her neck and flicked her earlobes, sending shivers down her spine.  They danced over her breasts, stomach and thighs.  The fronds wrapped around her, some of them caressed her shoulders, back and buttocks, but the ones that stroked her damp pubic hair and the insides of her thighs gave her the most pleasure. 

Charlie shifted her weight so she could move her feet further apart and exposed her pussy to the tender touch of her old friend.  The first stroke across her labia brought another long, loud moan to her lips, but this time there was no self-consciousness.  A frond gently pushed against her clitoris and in ecstasy, threw back her head and moaned again.  Charlie stretched, locked her fingers behind her neck and sighed, lost in this gentle, all-over embrace.  The fronds began to stroke the undersides of her arms, her armpits and her flanks, bringing a surge of unexpected pleasure.  Another frond began to bump against her, and her excitement grew.  With her eyes still firmly closed, Charlie sighed again, and a frond brushed her slightly parted lips and she responded by gently licking it.  The frond tapped her lips and Charlie opened her mouth a little wider allowing it access to her mouth and tongue.  More fronds stroked her pussy as the maddening bumping against her clitoris continued and she felt the early stirrings of her approaching orgasm.

With a sudden surge of disappointment, Charlie realised this is never going to work.  As wonderful as this felt, she was never going to have an orgasm while standing.  Not only was there not enough contact with her pussy, but with her eyes closed, she struggled to keep her balance amid the writhing fronds.  Charlie felt her orgasm slipping away, and right now she wanted to come more than anything.  Then inspiration struck, the lawn chair was perfect.  She stepped from the fronds, turned the lawn chair and pushed it toward her old friend. 

Grabbing the spray bottle, Charlie filled the air with mist and the fronds went into a frenzy.  She poured the last of the water over her breasts and she felt it flow down her stomach and legs. Charlie again walked into the seething mass of fronds and reclined on the lawn chair.  Her old friend caressed her body anew, but somehow it feels different this time.  When she was standing, Charlie felt as though she was in control, but lying on her back, exposed to her strange lover, she felt vulnerable.  Her body began to tingle again, her nipples hardened as her excitement grew, but her legs remained tightly closed.

Soft fairy-kisses rained down on Charlie’s face and the tender brushing against her eyelids was incredibly erotic.  A frond pushed gently against her lips, and she allows it to explore her mouth and tongue again.  With stubborn insistence, the fronds gently stroked her wet pubic hair and upper thighs.  Despite her feeling of unease, she allowed her thighs to part a little and instantly felt a tentative stroke against her labia.  Her orgasm, which had retreated only a few minutes ago, started to build again.  Some of the fronds began to caress the soles of her feet and she began to squirm.  The movement allowed the fronds greater access to her pussy.  A soft rubbing across her clitoris extracted of fresh series of moans from her lips as the feeling of pleasure built in her body.  Under this gentle onslaught, the last of Charlie’s inhibitions vanish and she opened her legs, giving herself fully to her old friend.

As the minutes pass Charlie writhed under the relentless stoking of dozens of fronds.  Her perspiration drove the fronds into frenzied, yet tender, caresses of her naked body.  Her feet were firmly planted on the paving on either side of the lawn chair, her legs were spread as wide as possible as she tried to thrust against the yielding fronds.  She was close, so close; each gentle stroke of her clitoris or nipples was drawing her closer to the orgasm she so desperately wanted.  Needed.  More minutes passed and she felt as if she will explode if she didn’t come soon.  Her hands went down to her pussy, she knew a few deft strokes of her fingers would push her over the edge.  Instead, she used them to spread herself wider and the fronds push against the wet opening of her pussy.  Finally, one of the larger fronds nudged her clitoris and a bolt of electricity ran through her, it nudged again, and her orgasm crashed over her.  Grunting, Charlie rode wave after wave of pleasure.  Her pussy got wetter, her perspiration built, and the fronds continued their exquisite dance over her skin as the last waves of her orgasm ebbed away.

In a moment of panic, Charlie realised that just because she had finished, didn’t mean her old friend was.  With every gasp of breath, fronds invaded her mouth.  So many fronds gently stroked her body that she couldn’t sit up or even close her legs.  Dozens of fronds now pushed against her pussy; so many that they were able to penetrate her.  Other fronds continually stroked her clitoris as she involuntary began to grind her pussy against the seething mass.  With her breasts and nipples contently being stroked and a frond again probing her mouth, another orgasm crashed over her.  And still, the fronds continued to dance.  Her skin was on fire, her pussy ached, and every touch made her flinch; with pleasure or pain, she no longer knew.  With superhuman effort, Charlie rolled off the lawn chair and crawled out of the reach of the fronds.

Lying on her back, Charlie struggled to catch her breath.  The longest of the fronds stroked the soles of her feet and quickly she pulled them out of harm’s way.  With the warm paving beneath her, her heart pounding, and with her eyes still closed, Charlie enjoyed the afterglow of the best orgasms she had ever experienced.  Still tingling as the warm breeze drifted across her naked body, Charlie smiled.  After a few minutes of peaceful bliss, she stood, stretched, and, without really knowing why she let out a peal of soft laughter.  Walking naked back to her home, Charlie looked over at the now gently swaying fronds, smiled and murmured, “Thank you, old friend.  Perhaps we can try that again sometime.”

Feeling happier than she had in years, Charlie entered her home; her bathers, her wine and even her smartphone completely forgotten.