Tan lines from years of stockings mark her thighs as she straddles him, tits bouncing free. Bald head glistening with sweat, mouth already sore from gagging. He’s pinned under her weight—fingers bruising his chest—while she rides like a woman who’s done this since he was in diapers. Ass clenches when he flips her, legs hook over his shoulders, heels digging into the couch cushions. By the time he cums down that throat again, her mascara is smeared and she’s grinning like a damn pirate. No lube? Doesn’t matter—she’s got decades of practice making it work.