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