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