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