The old man pulled feebly on his penis. He wiggled and flopped the soft member in his hands. His only desire was to sprout an erection and arouse himself to ejaculation. His frustration turned to disgust as he realized his futile attempts at self-gratification.
"Has it really come to this?" Arthur muddled. "I used to be so virile. I could do this 3 times a day. But now..."
He zipped up his pants and headed out of his room.
"I hate this God damn wheelchair!" Arthur spewed the words with a fiery conviction. "Why the hell a man has to get so damn decrepit that he can't even walk... I don't fuckin' know."
Arthur continued to fumble with the controls. He tried to maneuver the chair around the silk tree in the hallway. He just couldn't understand why the orderly would have put the thing in the narrow hallway in the first place.
Exasperated, Arthur dropped his head allowing his chin to rest on his chest. He closed his eyes for an instant and took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure for another attempt to steer the wheelchair toward the cafeteria.
This isn't how Arthur Bartholomew Winston wanted to end up - in a retirement home surrounded by a bunch of feeble-minded nitwits. And that's his depiction of the staff. The other inhabitants are nothing more than pond scum to a man like Arthur.
If he hadn't outlived his children, he may not be here now. But since his grandchildren and great grandchildren never got to know the man, they placed him in the "best home money could buy" as his oldest grandson put it.
In his day, Arthur was full of life - and full of himself. He was an entrepreneur even before the title was in vogue. He invested his money in other men's ideas. When the businesses took off, he was the silent partner raking in the cash. He had a wife and two kids, but spent his time searching for the next business deal - and the next piece of ass.
Oh, yes. Arthur was a womanizer indeed. The legendary Don Juan could barely hold a candle. He would provide himself the company of two, three, even four women at a time. The abundant money lining his pockets afforded that sort of sexual luxury.
Arthur finally got the wheelchair headed down the hallway again. He was heading for the cafeteria hoping for a slice of Key Lime pie.
As he turned the corner and entered the cafeteria, he had to stop abruptly - lurching the chair to a halt.
"Slow down, big fella." snorted Maxine, one of the orderlies. "You almost ran into Ms. Beatrice here."
