The gallery lights dimmed as I cornered Loretta by the abstract sculptures, her 65 years etched in silver-streaked hair and a gaze sharper than any critic's. 'You've been staring at my 36DDs all evening,' she said, voice like aged whiskey. 'Feeling bold tonight, pup?'
I grinned. 'Loretta, may I feel them through that silk shirt? They look like they could start wars.'
She arched a brow, lips curling in a wicked smirk. 'Ask nicely, and maybe. But remember, I'm no shrinking violet—touch wrong and I'll have you begging.' Her fingers traced my collar as she unbuttoned just enough, revealing the black lace bra straining against her full curves. I cupped them, thumbs circling the fabric, feeling the heat build.
'Hard already?' she teased, pressing closer. 'My turn to inspect.' Shirt discarded, I slipped my hand inside the bra, rolling her nipples between fingers until they peaked. She gasped but held my stare. 'Embarrassed? Hardly. This old girl's seen it all—now make it count.'
Emboldened, I tugged the bra down, exposing her tits fully, heavy and inviting. Loretta's hand dove to my belt, freeing my cock, already hard and throbbing. 'Look at this eager thing,' she quipped, stroking with firm, witty precision. 'Bet you think you're leading, but watch me.'
Panting, we tumbled to the velvet couch. She was horny as hell, her pussy wet and dripping as my fingers found it, slick and inviting. 'Deeper, darling—don't hold back,' she commanded, strong thighs parting. I knelt for a blowjob, her mouth expert on my cock, tongue swirling until I nearly came. Sweating, we switched; she mounted me, ass grinding as my cock slid into her tight heat. 'Fuck yes—ride it hard,' she panted, controlling every thrust. Cum built fast, her walls clenching as we exploded together in a frenzy of dripping sweat and raw moans.
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