Golden hour bathes the sunflower field where is it good to beat your meat unfolds. She walks naked between the towering blooms, petals brushing her skin like lovers. In is it good to beat your meat, 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 is it good to beat your meat. Bees hum around her moaning form, unafraid. When she comes in is it good to beat your meat, 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 is it good to beat your meat.