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