You weren’t supposed to see this. Fifty-something blonde in sheer stockings straddles some poor bastard on the couch, his cock buried deep while she clutches his shoulders like he’s her only lifeline. No foreplay—just rough grinding, thighs quivering as she takes every inch. His hands grip her ass tight enough to leave marks, pulling her down harder each time she tries to slow it down. She doesn’t care if someone hears the bedframe creaking against the wall or sees how messy it gets when he flips her onto her back and pins those thick legs open. Stockings tear mid-fucking, mascara smears from crying out too loud—but neither of them stops.
