The path to the Labia Library was not a straight road, nor was it paved with logic or modesty. Instead, it twisted and curled like a lover's finger beckoning in the dark, flanked on either side by suggestive flora that moaned in the wind and vines that reached out to gently caress passersby.
Henry walked stiffly—not from injury, but from sensory overload. The group had barely left the Temple of Climax and already the scenery had taken a turn for the absurdly erotic. Rose-tipped lilies sighed when brushed. Bushes giggled. A tree whispered "Daddy?" as he passed.
"This forest is unwell," Henry muttered, adjusting his waistband.
Moistessa leaned in, her breath hot. "It's not a forest, darling. It's the Flustering Thicket. It's sentient and single."
Yvette nodded seriously. "Just don't make direct eye contact with the tulip-shaped ones. They imprint."
Henry made the mistake of looking. A periwinkle bloom gasped. "Are you my first?"
