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