The Magic of Desire in nikki ashton smoking

Humid air, orchids blooming in nikki ashton smoking. Naked among the plants, mist dripping from leaves, she presses herself against cool glass. “Grow for me, nikki ashton smoking,” she whispers, sliding slick fingers inside while vines brush her nipples. The greenhouse fills with wet sounds and breathless “nikki ashton smoking… bloom… nikki ashton smoking…” until the orgasm bursts—she squirts onto fertile soil, crying “nikki ashton smoking!” as flowers seem to open wider in sympathy.