irene lopez: A Tale That Will Captivate Your Imagination

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