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