Leather couch creaks under the weight of a woman who’s done this a thousand times before. Blonde hair sticking to her forehead, mascara running like war paint, those heavy tits bouncing every time she slams down. She’s got that look in her eye—the one that says ‘I’ve been fucking younger men since you were still in diapers.’ Starts slow, teasing him with those thick thighs squeezing his hips, then suddenly switches to wild grinding, nails digging into the leather backrest. When he tries flipping her over? She laughs and shoves him back down—‘You’re not calling shots here.’—then straddles again for round two.