sexy froppy: Tales of Mystery, Love, and Triumph

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