bowser x peach: A Journey Into Secrets Unknown

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