Exploring the Secret Paths and Adventures of virgin onahole

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