Hidden Love Stories: corbinfisher dawson

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