Soft Whispers: men making love

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