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