Most of the tulips had opened to full bloom, but one was barely more than a bud. After I’d had Flora bare one breast, that’s the tulip I had her hold. “Now look down,” I told her. “Look a little sad. Just a little. Press your lips together just a touch. Now part them, just a touch. There. Like tulip petals. Like your pussy slit.”

Her eyes lifted to mine and quickly dipped.

“Now touch the tip of the flower to the tip of your nipple,” I instructed. “There. Like that. Just so. So beautiful. Does it feel good?”

She nodded.

“How does it feel?”

“Feels good,” she said softly.

“Such sweet stiffness,” I said. “Yes, like that, rub it round and round, slow, slow circles. Now scape up along the side. Yes. Again. So nice. So sweet.”

“Mm.”

“Are you getting wet?”

She nodded.

“Tell me.”

“Getting wet.”

“Keep touching.”

“Mm-hm.” A half-mumble, half sigh.

“In a little bit I’m going to have you touch the flower to your pussy. Would you like that?”

“Mm-hm.”

“You’re very wet, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” More gasp than a word.

“Very excited.”

“Mm.”

“So wet.”

“Mm.”

“So excited.”

“Mm.”

“It’s almost time.”

“Mm.”

“Move your teddy aside.”

“Mm?”

“Yes, like that. Oh, so beautiful. The little bud of your clit. Touch it now. Touch it with your flower.”

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Oh! Oh! Oh!”

Flushed with love dew, the little flower of her cunt opened and closed, one orgasmic contraction after another.