Hidden Pleasures of romance party

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