Tales of Secret Desire in stroker zuzu

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