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