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