A Proper Rut

It was a stormy night. Jack was sitting in one of Douglas's old chairs, smoking a cigar and drinking some scotch. Elizabeth was trying to get him into a more genteel set of vices, and she felt successful as he blew out the smoke, while she blew him.

"You're so good to ole Jack," he said, resting one of old, damaged feet on Elizabeth's back.

"Oh, Black Jack. I'm just so glad you're getting better. I'm so glad you're with me, every day," Elizabeth said, kissing the base of Jack's cock and licking up. He placed a gnarled hand into her dark mane, guiding her lips to the tip his shaft, and moaning as her soft, wet, pleasing mouth started to properly attend to him.

After a few moments, he placed her gently onto the floor of the living room, his large swaying cock pushing between the thick, juicy lips of her cunt. Her toes curled as her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him insistently into her, his heavy balls slapping her asshole roughly, their pitches rising in intensity with the storm outside. After almost forty minutes of the formerly-homeless man asserting himself as the head of household, he filled the former beauty queen with his seed, and as the night passed, one cell became two, and two became four.