lesbian mothers: Tales of Mystery, Courage, and Triumph

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