Romantic Whispers: sophie fiore

Golden hour bathes the sunflower field where sophie fiore unfolds. She walks naked between the towering blooms, petals brushing her skin like lovers. In sophie fiore, 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 sophie fiore. Bees hum around her moaning form, unafraid. When she comes in sophie fiore, 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 sophie fiore.