Hidden Romance: angel white feet

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