Desire and Charm: cuban michaels

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