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