She laughs first. Like this is just another Tuesday. Big blonde grinning, mascara smudged from years of crying over bad men and worse orgasms. Then—cock hits home. Her head snaps back, eyes rolling up so white you can see the veins pulsing behind them. Stockings tear as he pins her legs open on the couch cushions, fingers digging into those saggy tits like they’re still firm enough to hold onto for dear life. She moans, deep and throaty, but not begging—not yet. Just laughing through it, breath hitching as he slams deeper, harder.