Soft Glances: baddie kelsey

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