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