Tan lines on her thighs where stockings used to be. She’s got that look—like she’s been doing this since before he was born—and now she’s grinding down hard, ass clenching every time he hits deep. The bench groans under them, rust flaking onto his bare back as she leans forward, tits swinging free from her half-unbuttoned shirt. He flips her over mid-thrust and pins those legs back; the concrete digs into her shoulders but she doesn’t care. Just another night for an old pro who knows exactly how to take what she wants.