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