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