adriana fenice: Adventures Beyond Your Imagination and Hope

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