autumn falls elavator: Tales of Hope, Mystery, and Triumph

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