Soft Touches of Desire: audrey black the locker room

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