Ron stood before Sarah wearing nothing but the folds and wrinkles of his 75 years. But his manhood was erect, as hard as it ever was in the 1950s.
Sarah slipped her glasses from her face and twisted her mouth into a grotesque parody of a wry smile. She struggled out of her blouse, slowed down by armloads of cheap jewelry and fumbled buttons. She couldn’t take her eyes off of Ron’s erection. It was Texas-sized, hopefully a tight fight for a vagina pried wide by a series of children. She clawed at her pantyhose to free her throbbing sex for him. She was wetter than she had been in a decade, the dry lack of response for Todd’s clumsy pawing and squeezing a thing of the past. Her dampness filled the small, dark office. Ron breathed it in greedily and slapped his turgidity sharply, making his penis bob expectedly.
Sarah unhooked her bra and her heavy breasts swung free. Her areoles were brown and baby-gnawed, slowly contracting to form deeply wrinkled, but hard nipples. Ron grunted. Sarah fell to her knees in front of him and took him roughly into her mouth. His penis was meaty and saliva dripped from her lower lip in long ropes as she forced him deeper and deeper, choking herself. She ringed the base of the shaft with strong fingers and dug her thumb into the base of its underside. Ron groaned when he could feel the convulsions of her throat as she gagged on him.
Sarah came up for air, tears running down her face, dragging long black trails of mascara down her chin and neck. Ron leaned in for a rough kiss, his tongue jamming in and out of her mouth. Pulling back, he spit in her mouth.
She broke away and Ron motioned her up and over to a chair. Sarah got on her knees and spread herself wide for him, a whispered fart escaping as she did. Her genitals gaped like a ragged wound.
Ron punched her right in the cunt and got to work.