Tan lines on thick thighs peek out from torn shorts. Lips glistening with spit after that long pull on the cigar. She’s been doing this since before he was born—knows exactly how to work a room, how to make a younger man squirm just by looking at him like that. One hand strokes his chest while the other guides him closer, fingers already slick from anticipation. The couch creaks under her weight when she straddles him, tits jiggling free of her loose blouse as she rides slow at first—just enough to drive him wild before leaning down for that first sloppy kiss. No foreplay needed here; this is practice, pure and simple.