Hidden Desires and Fantasies in new erotica

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