That look in her eyes—old enough to be his mother but still hungry. Lips parted, breath heavy, she watches him through half-lidded lids like she’s daring him to ruin her makeup. Ass up over the bathroom counter, fingers digging into porcelain as he buries himself deep. Tits bounce with every thrust, stretch marks glistening under the bathroom light. She moans louder when he pinches those soft nipples, legs trembling but refusing to let go. Cum dripping down thighs by the time he flips her onto her back—still grinning like this is just another Tuesday. No finesse needed here; just raw hunger from years of practice.