Discovering the Untold Adventures of itsmecat sex

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