uchi no ototo: Tales of Triumph, Discovery, and Love

Humid air, orchids blooming in uchi no ototo. Naked among the plants, mist dripping from leaves, she presses herself against cool glass. “Grow for me, uchi no ototo,” she whispers, sliding slick fingers inside while vines brush her nipples. The greenhouse fills with wet sounds and breathless “uchi no ototo… bloom… uchi no ototo…” until the orgasm bursts—she squirts onto fertile soil, crying “uchi no ototo!” as flowers seem to open wider in sympathy.