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