Tan lines from years of bikinis still sharp as she spreads her knees wide. That heavy breath hitching in her throat? She’s been doing this since he was in diapers. Starts slow—hands gripping the couch cushions like she’s testing weight limits—but soon those wrinkled thighs are slamming down hard enough to make the springs squeak. Cock buried deep between sagging tits next, lipstick smeared across his chest as she leans in for a messy kiss. Knows exactly how to work it: one hand on his hip, the other pinching her own nipple like she owns the room—and him.
