David Cole sits on the couch, his gray beard rough against his chest, the dark tattoo on his left arm shifting as he shifts his weight. His legs spread wide, fingers tracing the curve of his own cock before he grips it hard, the couch cushion sinking beneath him as he leans forward, breath shallow. The vertical panels behind him blur into color, but his focus stays locked on the hand working him, slow, deliberate, the veins on his neck standing out as he leans back, the couch’s edge biting into his thighs.
