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