hire hooker: Tales of Mystery, Hope, and Discovery

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