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