Hidden Longings: drew sebatian

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