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