She doesn’t even look at him. Just grips that younger guy’s hair like she’s holding onto a lifeline while he tries to pull back. No mercy—her heavy thighs clamp shut around his face, lips parted in a silent scream of pleasure. The couch cushions are soaked before he even realizes what hit him. Then she laughs, slow and wet, like this is old hat for her. Flips him onto his stomach mid-thrust, ass up in those worn stockings—cock buried so deep it looks like it’ll split her open. Gagging noises turn into gagd moans when she finally lets go of his head just long enough to flip over him.