Revealing Emotions in the bombshellmint

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