TO THE READER;
THIS STORY CONTAINS SEXUAL ACTIVITY. IF YOU ARE TOO YOUNG TO READ IT BY THE LAWS OF WHERE YOU LIVE, OR IF YOU ARE PROHIBITED FROM READING ABOUT MASTURBATION, PLEASE TURN OFF THIS PAGE.
Searching for Love
Chapter 3
Owen awoke to find the cat had deserted him, and his bedroom had grown colder. He dressed in sweats and his warm slippers, then went to see what he could fix for dinner. Last night's spree had flattened his wallet, so there was no way he could go out for dinner.
Searching through the pantry, he found some spaghetti, a jar of sauce, and a can of green beans. In the almost empty refrigerator was a lone tomato, the last of a head of romaine, and a bottle of salad dressing. Yes, there was enough for a dinner. That was good for now, but he'd have to go shopping tomorrow, at the latest, to get him through the week. Maybe he could borrow from John again, knowing payday was Thursday. Yes, he'd see if he could borrow $50 from John, and pay him back Thursday.
Owen made himself a small pot of coffee and took his mug of coffee into the living room. At first, he thought he'd watch the news on the TV, but when it came on, it couldn't hold his attention. He turned off the TV, took a sip of coffee and thought back over the last 24 hours.
He was lucky he came out of that encounter with the sadist with only a sore ass and a black eye. He'd heard that those guys could play far rougher, maybe even cutting him with a knife. He just couldn't take a chance on that happening, or maybe something even worse. He had to either find some new playmates who weren't so rough, or maybe, God forbid, settle for beating himself off. He'd miss feeling a nice, thick cock up his ass.
Then Owen began to think about today. He'd enjoyed the singing. It had been at least 20 years since he'd sung in the school choir. He always liked to sing, and caught himself from time to time going around the house singing all manner of music: hymns, show tunes, love songs, even those silly songs that never made sense but were funny.
Yes, he needed to have an outlet for his singing, and the choir would be fine. He'd also met some good men today, especially Bert. He wondered about Bert. He'd been friendly, and was pleasant to talk to. Maybe they could become friends.
The rest of the evening, Owen thought about the day and the opportunity to change directions, "clean up his act," and maybe find some friends who would accept him as he was, or as he wanted to be. He went to bed early, glad that John's salve had taken away the pain in his ass. His wrists and black eye didn't look as bad at bed time as they did when he first awoke, but he'd have to come up with a story to tell at work, how he got hurt. He had gotten pretty good at it over the past couple of years, because he often came to work on Monday bearing the results of fights. He'd have some cock and bull story ready when he got to work.
The next morning, as he showered and shaved, he found the evidence of the Saturday night's abuse was fading. The skin around his eye was still a bit colored, but not as bad as Saturday, or even Sunday. He would wear a long-sleeve shirt to cover the wrist abrasions. His ass was not tender, though sitting in a chair for much of the day would be the test.
Owen carefully knotted his tie, stuffed his pockets with money, wallet, and keys, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the bus stop. He put on his jacket on the way. Familiar faces smiled at him. He just made it to the bus stop on time. Everybody climbed on board, showed their passes or paid their fares, and grabbed the hanging straps which were all that kept the standing passengers from falling.
The ride seemed short to Owen, for he had been thinking about his story, what he would tell his coworkers to explain his injury, or the customers. When he arrived at work, there was no question something was happening. The lights were on in all the offices of the corporation which occupied the building. Customers who usually would grab a doughnut and coffee on their way into the building were already at work at 7 a.m. when Owen opened the little convenience store. No one came to get the donuts or coffee, or any of the other merchandise Owen's store offered for sale.
By 9 a.m., Owen had sold very few donuts and coffee. A couple of people came in to buy cigarettes. Not much action at all.
At 10 a.m. Owen's boss came to tell Owen what was going on. It seemed the corporation had decided to shut down this office. No one had heard what was going to happen to this big office building if there were no workers there. Owen's convenience store couldn't stay open if there were no workers in the building. Owen expected to be laid off.
Instead, his boss said it was time for Owen to take over some of the supervision of the downtown convenience stores. There were 12 stores, apart from the one they were standing in. Owen knew the procedure for preparing the stores for opening each day, how to keep them running during the day, and how to close them each afternoon.
The corporation would keep its office running, or getting ready to shut down, for two weeks, then Owen's store would go out of business. The following Monday Owen would need to appear at the office, to begin to learn the inventory control and ordering, and the hiring and training of new store personnel. "Congratulations, Owen. You've worked hard for me all these years, now it's time to take a step up, and there's a boost in salary."
The day passed very slowly for Owen. After the early morning's frantic activity, a few people came for their coffee, some for sandwiches for lunch. They told Owen how they had learned this morning that the office would close within two weeks. The corporation would try to help them find jobs, and all employees would be paid a month's severance pay. There were some teary eyes, people who had worked in the offices of the corporation for many years. Some had never had any other job. It was not a happy place for them, or for Owen.
At the end of the day, Owen turned off all the lights but the night light, picked up his jacket, locked the door, and headed home. Thoughts of the changes buzzed through his head. His head ached. His stomach growled as he entered his apartment. He hadn't had time for lunch, hadn't missed it until now.
Kitty was there to greet him, rub against his legs, utter hungry meows, and let him know it was time for supper. Owen fed the cat before taking off his jacket. He petted Miss Mousey, and said, "Lucky you, kitty. Here you can spend all day sleeping if you want, or going outside to chase birds and mice, and without any effort on your part, food and water appear in your bowls almost magically. While I, your lord and master, have to slave over a hot cash register each day to make the money to provide you food and your home. Lucky you!"
Owen went into his bedroom, carefully hung up his jacket, checked his clothes, could he get another day's wear out of the shirt and pants? He put on his usual sweat pants and shirt, then went into the kitchen to see what the pantry could provide. There were no tomatoes for salad, or lettuce. The spaghetti was gone. No bread, milk or butter. One very tired zucchini was all he found in the refrigerator. The pantry produce only a can of beans, not even a can of tuna.
Owen remembered that he didn't have enough cash to go grocery shopping. His credit cards were maxed out. His only hope was to ask John if he could lend him some money till Thursday. Owen rang John's doorbell and waited. Soon John appeared with a wooden spoon in his hand and a smile. "I'll bet you'd like to join me for dinner. We're having roast beef, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, and pie. Sound interesting?"
Owen almost fell at John's feet in appreciation and submission. "God, I'd love to. I am out of food and money, and desperate."
"Good. C'mon in and we'll have dinner together." John looked carefully at Owen's eye, and pronounced it looking pretty good. As he examined Owen's wrists, he noted they were healing very rapidly. Probably wouldn't be noticeable in a couple of days.
"Would you like a soft drink, some iced tea, or wine?" John offered.
"No alcohol, please. I think I've overdone that for a while. Iced tea sounds good to me." As John went to the kitchen to pour Owen's iced tea, Owen thought over what John had just done for him, had always done for him. John didn't try to play parent, or remind him that he had better change his life style if he wanted to have a good life.
When John handed him the iced tea, Owen began to thank John, but John broke in, "You did that yesterday. Now, I want to find out how you felt about the choir.
"Oh, that was great. I hadn't sung in 20 years, and it all came back. I'd expect sight reading of the music would be hard, but it wasn't. The choir director was great. Say, what's his name?"
"His name is Artur, not Arthur, Bernstein, like Leonard Bernstein. He's a distant relative of the great conductor and composer. He is unlike many because he doesn't act like a tyrant or put you down if you make a mistake. He encourages everybody. I guess that's why we sing pretty well.
"Now, tell me how you felt about joining the choir," John said softly.
"No question about it, John, I'd like to sing in the choir every Sunday."
Owen realized he would have to tell John about his day and the promotion, along with asking to borrow some money. He decided to put it all off until after dinner. They could enjoy dinner before getting down to the nitty gritty. Dinner was good. Owen explained he hadn't had time for lunch today. That's why he was so hungry, and ate everything on the table, cleaned every platter and bowl.
When the dishes and pots and pans were all rinsed and put in the dishwasher, John suggested they take their iced tea into the living room. Owen followed John, ready to spill the story of the job change, and salary increase. Then he thought John might be more amenable to making a loan. He was right. John took it all in, thought, then asked Owen how much he needed. Owen replied, "I was going to ask to borrow $50 till Thursday, but after you served me such a fine dinner, I only need to buy things for Tuesday and Wednesday. I can drink my coffee at work, and eat some donuts. We had to throw away most of the donuts and sandwiches we started with today."
"If that's really all you need, sure, Owen, I have $40 here in my wallet. I'll expect you to repay it when you get paid. Here," and he handed Owen the money.
"Thanks, John. I'll get my paycheck Thursday, and pay you back that night. Now, I've got to get some sleep. Tomorrow will be difficult day at work for me. I'll let you know how things go. And a big thanks for a fine dinner." Owen gave John a hug and went to his apartment.
Owen brushed his teeth, took care of his bathroom duties, undressed and went to bed. He was tired, but he was still feeling the strain of the day and the anxiety of stepping into the new job. He felt in need of some relaxation, so he began to run his hands over his hairy chest, rubbing the nipples, then rubbing his balls and cradling his cock in his hand. As he moved his hand up and down his cock, the tension of the day left him, and he forgot about all that had happened. His body thrust up as he neared climax. His cock shot out five big bursts. Then he lay back, rubbing his cum into his chest and stomach. He was relaxed now, and lay enjoying the release of the climax.
He took some tissues from the box on the night stand, wiped off the cum, and put the used tissues in the waste box beside the bed. He lay back with closed eyes, wondering about the future, then relaxed and fell asleep
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