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