Golden hour bathes the sunflower field where old yound sex unfolds. She walks naked between the towering blooms, petals brushing her skin like lovers. In old yound sex, she drops to the earth, crushing flowers beneath her back, their scent exploding with every grind against her own hand. Pollen dusts her thighs gold as she works a glass dildo in and out, sunlight glinting off slick curves in old yound sex. Bees hum around her moaning form, unafraid. When she comes in old yound sex, her cry scatters birds from the field; petals rain down on sweat-slick skin like applause. She stays there long after, crowned in yellow, goddess of old yound sex.