Behind the Curtain of demons of sex: Hidden Pleasures

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