Phil, 50-something looking for a spark

As the sun started to stream through my curtains, I groaned. I groaned a lot these days. A lifetime of **** and hard living had not set me up for a healthy back nine of life. I stared at the ceiling. There were no new patterns in the cracks. A small spider scurried from one corner to the other. The sound of increasingly wet schlorp-schlorps rang in my ears. I groaned again. Unable to avoid it much longer, I looked down at my crotch. There, my wife of 25 years gave **** attention to my half-flaccid cock.

I should have been happy. Last week I wouldn't have even dreamed of morning head from my darling wife. Now, I gazed with distaste at the plump sex robot who still wore the wedding band I had placed on her finger all those years prior.

It had been the natural choice. My wife and I were sitting in the living room, planning out our lazy afternoon when the text came through. Obviously I wasn't going to let another man have a chance, and after some persuasion Beth had agreed. Two days later, I couldn't help but feel like it had been the wrong choice. My partner had died that day. The automaton that now used her body like a puppet lacked something. The spark of vivacity and nerve that had kept me interested in her for more than two decades.

Maybe it was actually me. Maybe now that I could use her body any way I wanted, whenever I wanted, I could see all the flaws that scarcity had kept me from dwelling on. Never a cover model, Beth had aged into a fat old lady. She would have killed me for saying that once. Now, she just apologized and promised to diet and exercise, with honest tears in her eyes. Maybe in a year it would be different. Maybe in a year we'd be dead.

I thanked Beth for the morning wake-up and put on my slippers. She had already made coffee and a plate of eggs. The last eggs in the house. Maybe we could get a chicken. Find a common interest in keeping it alive. Beth offered to keep trying on the blow job while I ate.

After finishing breakfast, I changed into my outdoor clothes and put on my walking shoes. Perhaps a walk through the old cemetery by the church would cheer me up. Ha.