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