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