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