final originity: A Journey Through Mystery, Discovery, and Hope

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