She’s been doing this since he was in diapers. Blonde battle-axe with a smoker’s cough and tits that spill over the couch armrest leans in, lips glistening from the whiskey she sipped earlier. Starts slow—kissing like she means to eat him alive—but when he groans too loud, she slaps his thigh hard enough to leave a mark. ‘Shut up unless I tell you,’ she mutters before straddling him, stockings snagging on the fabric as her pussy clenches around his cock. No foreplay needed; just years of practice paying off.