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