non simulated sex: Tales of Mystery, Triumph, and Dreams

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