be gone thots: The Ultimate Story That Captivates and Inspires

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