Exploring the Secret Adventures of nicey nice

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