Jack Sullivan strokes his thick cock with a rough, tattooed hand while sprawled on a bed, his gray beard shadowing his chest as he leans back with a slow, deliberate grip. The couch in the background, its armrests worn smooth, watches as he shifts, fingers tracing his thigh before his mouth parts, breath shallow, eyes half-lidded. Every movement is measured, every touch deliberate, his body heavy with the weight of his own need.
