In the quiet town of Whistlewood, the morning sun gleamed through the bedroom window. Edith, with her silver hair neatly pinned into a bun and eyes crinkling with memories, lay next to Harry, her slumbering husband.

Her fingers, gnarled and stiffened by years of arthritic battles, curled around Harry’s tumescent member. She sighed deeply, recalling the days when her hands were nimble, capable of knitting elaborate patterns, playing melodies on the piano, and giving Harry his morning handjob with elan and expertise. But those days were behind her, and now even the simplest tasks had become arduous challenges.

Determined, Edith tried to grip the penis just beneath the rim, her fingers trembling with effort. She winced as a sharp pain shot through her knuckles. Frustration welled up, but she pushed it aside, refusing to be defeated by something as mundane as a piece of morning wood.

After several failed attempts, she paused to catch her breath, the cock still erect. She looked around her bedroom, the walls filled with photographs of Harry and her in their younger days. Each picture told a story, a testament to the life she had lived with grace and strength and a good deal of impish delight.

Her eyes settled on a pair of nail scissors lying on the bedside table. A frown crossed her lips. Her throat tightened. She reached for the scissors but succeeded only in knocking them to the floor. Such was life. Harry would just have to do without foreplay.

She lay her head upon Harry’s tummy, and using her palm, maneuvered his cock to her mouth, opened wide, and took it in. Sucking and using her tongue, she considered how much easier this was now that her teeth were still in the dish in the bathroom.

She took her time, enjoying the familiar textures, remembering with fondness their earliest erotic exploits: in the back of her daddy’s Chevy Caprice, in his mom’s pantry after a Thanksgiving dinner, in the bathroom of a Pan Am jet on their way home from their honeymoon. Harry wasn’t as quick as in their youth, but eventually she was rewarded for her efforts. “Oh love,” Harry groaned, and the sweet surge of his cum filled her mouth. Not as much as in their heyday, but still a tasty breakfast. No need now to struggle with peeling that banana.