ghetto girlfriend: Chronicles of Courage, Discovery, and Dreams

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