Chapter 7
The next morning Isadore was in the kitchen of his modest home, filling a coffee pot with ground coffee. He had bandaids all over his face, and a sling on his left arm. He was already dressed to go out.
His wife, Sally, a frail middle aged woman with gray hair worn straight with a bun at the nape of the neck entered the kitchen. She was wearing a blue satin dressing gown, flannel nightie beneath it, and slippers. "Good morning, darling."
Her voice startled him and he dropped the coffee pot, the ground coffee falling to the floor. He then turned around and faced her. "Good morning, dear. I hope you slept well last night."
"Izzy! What on earth has happened to you?"
Nervously, he avoided her eyes, making an attempt to clean up the ground coffee. "My arm has a slight sprain, and I have a few superficial wounds on my face. But I'll be all right"
Sally took the coffee pot from him and filled it again. "Never mind this mess; I'll clean it up later."
"I'm a clumsy ox. I wanted to make some coffee for you, dear."
"That was sweet of you, but I can manage. The doctor said my heart's getting much stronger. Now you sit down and tell me what happened to you, baby. Did you have an accident with the car?"
"No. I got into a fight with a jealous boy friend of Donna's. He resents me trying to help the girl. You know that I feel toward Donna like my own daughter and want to help her. But this guy is suspicious; he called me a wolf."
"How do you want your eggs, baby?"
"I'm not hungry. I'll just have coffee."
Sally put the fire under the pot, then slowly and feebly, went over to the table and sat down. "Didn't you explain to the young man that Donna used to work for you, and that you're only helping her because you're so kind?"
"No. He's a Hollywood hoodlum and too damned stupid to believe a sincere person like me, so why waste my breath on him? A punch in the nose is the language he understands."
"Izzy, dear. I've told you time after time not to associate with those undesirables. And if Donna keeps company with such trash, then she doesn't deserve your help. Just look at you-he could have killed you!"
"You should see him. I gave him two black eyes and almost broke his jaw."
"Serves him right!"
The coffee started to perk and Sally got up slowly, went over and filled two cups, then brought them back to the table and sat down again. "Don't you think you should have a doctor look at your arm? It might be fractured."
"No, it's all right. I'm only wearing the sling to take the weight off it."
Sally sipped on her coffee. "I worry about you, baby. You're the only thing left in the world for me. Do try not to get into any more brawls. Please, baby-for my sake, promise?"
"I'll try not to, but if that son-of-a-bitch starts anything again I'm liable to land him in the hospital."
"Now, now, Izzy, hold your temper. And I think you should wash your hands of this girl. She's very ungrateful to subject you to that type of treatment."
"But, Sally, honey-I love her, I mean, I love her like a daughter. And she needs my fatherly guidance. It wouldn't be right to desert her now."
Sally looked at him long and hard as if studying his face. His eyes were shifty before her scrutinizing gaze. She then finished her coffee and going over to the broom cabinet, got a dust pan and small hand brush. She then walked over in front of the stove where the coffee grounds were scattered on the floor. Getting down on her knees, she started to brush them into the dust pan.
Isadore's eyes were glued to her thin ass. It was shapely enough to excite him, At Times. This was one of those times.
Getting up from his chair, he walked behind her and reaching down, lifted her dressing gown and flannel nightie.
Sally looked over her shoulder at him. "Not now, baby, I'm too weak."
"Listen, woman, you haven't given me a piece of ass in ages. What am I supposed to do? Jerk off?"
"A man of your age shouldn't be thinking about sex. We're not kids any more."
"The day I stop thinking about sex will be the day I'm six feet under." As he said this, he got down on his knees behind her, gave her buttock cheeks a couple of playful pinches, then started to sniff at her asshole like a bloodhound.
"Izzy-please...."
"Please, my balls. Don't move; I'm your husband, and when I want some fucking, I'm gonna get some fucking."
"But do you have to act like an animal?"
"I am an animal. We're all animals, only civilized animals, all wanting sex. Why do you think the Creator gave us dicks and pussys?"
"I'm too sick to argue. Go ahead; get on with your dog routine if it means that much to you."
Isadore was now unzipping his fly and bringing out his short penis. He positioned himself canine fashion as if sneaking up beneath a female dog's tail, then started to rub the swollen head against the back of her dry cunt. He rubbed around the meaty folds and across the gray pubic hair. His penis felt uncomfortable, so he spit on his free hand, then reaching down, smeared it over the hole to make it wet enough to enter.
Sally dropped the dust pan and rested on the palms of her hands. She wanted to go into the bedroom, but knew that Isadore was hell bent on fucking her doggie fashion right where he was. She'd noticed that as he'd grown older, that conventional sex no longer seemed to stimulate him. He was always coming up with some ridiculous way-like wanting her to paddle his rump with a hairbrush. But loving him all the years since their youth, what could she do? He was Izzy, her baby.
It wasn't easy to balance himself sufficiently with one hand holding his wife's shoulder. The sling on his other arm was very annoying. However, this did not deter the little man's ardor. He thrust his small penis in and out of the pussyhole. But he couldn't feel any grip. This was not due to Sally's accommodations; rather, to such a short, thin member, that would be lost in any sized hole, perhaps even a midget girl's.
"How long are you going to take, Izzy? My arms hurt from the weight on my hands."
"Give me a little help. Wiggle your ass-push back against me."
Sally tried to oblige him, but on his fourth stroke, she was too weak to reciprocate further. Her body fell forward, and Isadore slipped out. Slyly, he moved his cock up an inch or two and pushed it against her asshole.
Sally looked over her shoulder. "What are you trying to do?"
"Shut up, and don't move!" He was grunting and pushing harder. Then with a sudden pop, the small round dickhead was buried in her rectum. It was nice and tight, with a grip of iron.
Sally tried to pull away from her cornholing spouse, but he was holding onto her with both hands now-his sprained arm forgotten. He couldn't get in any deeper than the head, as she was straining and bearing down as if trying to force out a turd. He gave six jerks in rapid succession, then he exploded! White stuff was dripping out of her bung hole and down the backs of her legs.
Isadore released her. There was a silly, ecstatic grin on his puss. "Don't be mad at me, sweetheart. I got carried away."
He helped her to her feet. Still holding her arm, he started to assist her toward the bathroom.
"Never mind, Izzy, I can manage," she said, pushing him away in disgust.
"Alright. I have to run along now, dear. I've got a lot of loose ends to clear up at the office before I leave for Palm Springs."
She continued toward the bathroom under her own steam. She was thinking: Izzy always had odd lustful desires. I could've picked a better husband blindfolded. He thinks he's pulling the wool over my eyes-but I've known about his affairs with young girls for years. She reached the bathroom door. Jism was dripping stickily down to her ankles. She wrung her hands in despair. But what can I do? I'm old and ill; and I happen to love the crumb!