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