joe gunner: Tales of Triumph, Adventure, and Discovery

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