Date: Wed, 29 May 2019 14:14:52 +0000 From: Simon Mohr Subject: David's Contribution: David-Chapter 1 This story is a work of complete fiction. Any resemblance of characters to real persons and reality is a coincidence. This story eventually includes descriptions of sex between adult males. If you are a minor, if this material is illegal where you live, or if this material offends you, please don't read it. Please donate to Nifty. Find the donation button on the Nifty web site to help you to pay your share of their expenses to provide these entertaining stories for you. All rights reserved. David Fellowes picked up his pitchfork. The hay where he slept was still warm from his often-interrupted night's sleep. His first task of the morning, after eating a small piece of bread and some cheese, was to pitch enough of the warm hay to the animals bellowing below the hayloft. He adjusted his trousers and tied the cloth belt a little tighter. The air in the barn was warmer than freezing; he didn't see ice in the bucket of water anyway. There would be some sun today, but it certainly wouldn't be hot, he guessed. His red hair and blue eyes flashed as he began to whistle. Nobody was around so he could whistle whatever tune he liked. He could eat anything he pleased at any time, keeping in mind he had only bread and cheese at the moment and not much of that. In April, David had planted a garden and the plants were showing above ground now, but it would be months before most of them could be harvested. Last year the deer had feasted on his garden, so he had built a high rough fence around this year's garden. He had planted 5 rows of strawberries, new this year. The carrots, yellow beets, red beets, and seed potatoes were in the ground now. The carrots and potatoes had kept in the dark, very cool root cellar last winter. The asparagus and kale would be ready as soon as any of the plants but weren't his favorites. He had decided he needed green vegetables He liked zucchini and yellow crookneck squash, had planted several hills of them, but the only way he could cook them was to boil them in a metal pot he had found in town in a Goodwill. He did not have electricity. His apple tree was mature now and producing well. He liked the Gravenstein for cider and flavor. The Gravenstein triploid cultivar dated back to the 17th century or perhaps before. There were blackberries on one side of the property. He sometimes worked a few hours in town to trade for matches and firewood, sometimes used clothes, sometimes food. He couldn't afford alcohol or tobacco. At 23 years old he was strong and people in town would sometimes need or want help with small jobs around their house. like re-hanging a door, mending a leak in the roof, clearing a drain, stacking firewood, taking out a tree...he'd even watched some kids for a few hours while the 'lady' of the house visited a 'friend'. David had some thoughts about that visit and what it must be like to have a close friend. He had been with a woman precisely one time and didn't want to repeat the experience. She smelled OK and smiled a lot but prattled on about what colors she looked good in and how she would marry a rich man someday, which dream didn't resonate with him and certainly didn't involve him. He couldn't afford kids. He could barely afford himself. He liked kids OK but was pretty sure he didn't want to support any right now. Kids seemed to want to eat on a regular basis. David had finished 8th grade a long time ago. His own folks, dead of scarlet fever when he was 11, left him without anybody to care for him but himself. He thought he'd survived pretty well, although he was always hungry and usually alone. He'd worked hard for a place to live, renting the 5 acres and the barn from an 80-year-old widow in exchange for a good bit of help at her place. He had added an outhouse near 'his' barn and a L shaped stone fireplace in 'his' barn with a hearth on one side and a sheet of metal over the other side, built so that the flames exited under the metal on the way to the flue. The arrangement didn't always draw well, but it provided for a cooking surface and kept the barn warmer in the winter when he had wood. David watched his three cows and their bull. He had worked for two heifer calves from his landlady and bred them to a bull on the other side of town. They had produced 2 heifers. He traded two of them for a bull calf. The bull he had checked out himself. He couldn't afford a veterinary visit. He didn't have a microscope to get a sperm count but judged that from the yearling bull's eagerness to check out the cows that he was at least interested in what bulls are supposed to be interested in. He was aware that the yearling bull would have better chances to successfully breed offspring a year from now but wasn't going to stop him from practicing. The visible parts of the bull that went inside the cow were active and the bull's balls were enormous, a good sign. A thought came to mind...David wondered if the bull's urge to mate was for pleasure or just an instinct. "I guess the bull won't ever tell." He grinned to himself and made sure his beasts had water, then shooed them into greener pastures. The lottery jackpot in Ohio was 50 million dollars. Joe Betlinski sighed. Some lucky stiff, not him, was going to get a little over half of that after taxes and if the winner was careful, he or she could pay off some bills and live the life of Riley. Joe remembered what his partner, Jim, had told him. "You'll never win if you don't play." That logic was absolutely true. So was the corollary: 'You probably won't win if you do play'. Upon entering the convenience store, Joe tried to remember the list of items for which he had walked the half-mile to obtain. His car was repairable after the drunk smashed into him last month, but the insurance check hadn't arrived yet. He stumbled for the fortieth time over the uneven step, looked down, and saw a lottery ticket on the floor. Saving himself from falling, he leaned over and picked up the ticket. He jammed it into his pocket first, then decided to ask the clerk. "Excuse me, has anyone reported a lost lottery ticket?" The clerk was busy. The question seemed to annoy him. "No. Check back in a week. If no one says they lost one, we usually tell you to keep it, but there's no way anyone could prove it was theirs unless they signed it. Is the ticket signed?" Joe turned it over. "No." "It's yours unless you want to wait the week." "I'll wait the week. Thanks." Joe arrived back to the apartment early. He'd got off work early and wanted to get home to mess around with Jim. He arrived a little sweaty from the long walk, inserted his key, not noticing the strange car in the driveway, quietly opened the front door and just stood there. In front of him was a tableau he had never wanted or expected to see. His lover was naked, face down on the living room carpet, feet toward the door. On top of him, a man whose butt he didn't recognize was fucking Jim with his back to the door. He quietly backed out and shut the door noiselessly, in shock. Joe sat on the steps and began to cry quietly. After a few minutes, he became angry. Every fiber in his body wanted to grab the baseball bat in the garage and do some damage on the man's head and to the apartment, leased in Jim's name. Perhaps the bat might also hit both of the participants. He wasn't sure if jail was an attraction however and decided Jim wasn't worth going to jail. He stood up finally and knocked on the door. It took a few minutes but after another pounding on the door, Jim opened the door fully dressed, red face, hair mussed. "Sorry, I must have misplaced my key, Jim." Joe entered, gave Jim a hug as if glad to see him, noticed over Jim's shoulder the curtains at the back door still moving a little and the back door slightly open. "I'm so horny," said Joe, "Are you up for a fuck?" "Oh God, no." "That's funny. You were a couple of minutes ago when I opened the door quietly with my key. I always carry with the key, Jim. I rarely lose anything except you apparently. It looks like your friend left out the back door in a bit of a hurry." "I can explain everything," said Jim. "This isn't what it looked like." "I'll just bet you can, too. Sadly, frogs still don't fly, Jim. Problem is I'm not in the mood for explanations right now and won't be. I'm moving out. We're finished. Get out of my way or I'll be tempted to use the baseball bat on your skull. Your ass is busted." An hour later a taxi drove up to the apartment and his suitcases packed in the trunk. Joe tacked a note to one of Jim's fancy new cherry kitchen cupboards. "Don't call me. Don't text me. Stay away or I'll file for a restraining order." The taxi took him and his belongings to a motel on the edge of town. He sat on the bed and began to cry again. Joe awoke under the covers a few hours later. He remembered who he was and why he was in that bed instead of their bed at home, hoping he hadn't overreacted, and couldn't summon up any desire to see Jim again. He had figured he was in love with Jim and said so on any number of occasions. He had never heard the same words come out of Jim's mouth but figured Jim wasn't the type to always say what was on his mind. "Guess he really wasn't," he said to himself and the four walls. He needed a shower. The water was warm enough and he began to think again. He had to decide where he was going to live. Living with Jim was cheaper than renting a place by himself. Jim had been a decent cook too. How the hell was he going to get regular meals now? He couldn't even look up the numbers for that lottery ticket. "If this motel has Wi-Fi," Joe thought, "I'm a piece of green cheese." He decided to call the front desk and dialed '0'. "Hi. This is Joe in 216. Does the motel have 'Wi-Fi?" "Sure. The password is all one word, 'jetfighters'...plural. Enjoy!" Joe wasn't sure what he was being asked to enjoy but did connect his iPhone to the internet and looked up the winning numbers from last night's draw. He found the ticket in his pants pocket. He looked at the ticket, then the iPhone, back to the ticket, checked again...a cold feeling came over him. 'This isn't real. I'm just wishing really hard. This is some kind of trick. The door will burst open in a minute and cameras will record my expression when someone tells me I've been had." As he sat there, he couldn't hear anything. A silence had descended around him. He was somewhere else, and he could see a friend waiting for him. He didn't know the person... that was strange. Joe tried to wave him over, then everything went dark. He woke up once more a few minutes later on the floor this time. He felt a little shaky and interpreted that as hunger. He jammed the ticket into his pocket and turned the cell phone off. He walked to the diner next door and asked for a booth. He was the only customer in the place and given a booth. "Honey, if the seat is empty, it's yours. Sit at any place you want. I'll just look until I find you." Shirley and he had gone to high school together. "Where's Jim, honey? Doesn't his highness get hungry too?" "I got home early today. Some guy was doing his naked ass on the floor." "Oh crap! That was Sam Owen. He was just in here and told me he had to leave a really good fuck today really quick because it was interrupted by a knock at the door and the 'really good' person threw him out the back door. He had a piece of pie and a bowl of soup here..." "If you want revenge, I've got the credit card receipt here. We had to hand run it on paper. Our phone link to the bank isn't working. Here's a copy of it..." "Don't mention me and please wait a year or two until he's richer. That job he's got at the bank is secure unless a jealous lover kills him." "We both remember Sam from high school, Joe. This is a pattern for him. His brain might know the difference between 'his' and 'mine', but his cock never learned that concept." "I think his cock, big as it is, doesn't take orders from Sam's brain. All of us girls wanted to see it then. Some still do. Apparently, his highness did too." Joe left the diner, comforted by food and conversation for the moment. He walked back to the motel, stuck his hand in his pocket and touched the ticket again. A week went by. During the week Joe began to think about what steps he would take next if no one claimed the ticket. He thought it was likely that the ticket buyer hadn't memorized the numbers on the ticket so probably hadn't assigned value to the ticket even if he had look at the winning numbers drawn. The buyer probably just bought the ticket for fun and not seeing it probably wasn't reminded to look for it or even check winning numbers... He checked with the clerk at the convenience store at the end of the week. "Nah, no one has said anything about a lost ticket in the last week. If you sign the ticket, it's yours as far as we're concerned." Joe once again went back to the motel. He signed the back of the ticket and listed his address. He had read enough, he thought, about what he should do now. He made an appointment with a high-powered attorney in Columbus. The attorney told him to show him the ticket, made a copy of both sides, called his secretary in to notarize the copy using Joe's driver's license as ID, and double-checked Ohio's lottery rules before giving Joe advice. "Joe," the attorney began, "common scams and errors that surround lottery winners include other persons trying to claim a share or all of the win, increased unwanted visibility in the community exposing the winner to violence including robbery and murder, hostility from those whose requests for money have been denied, unwanted requests for money taking up a good deal of time, overspending by those with access to the winnings, lack of a financial plan, lack of planning for taxes and temptations to spend the principle quickly." "The safest plan is to first cancel your telephone number. You don't want to talk with anyone right now. Do that today. Get a new iPhone 8 at an Apple store and tell them you want a new number and that you want it to be unlisted and as anonymous as possible. Then call me and give me the number so we can communicate." "File a change of address form with the post office today or tomorrow with the new address as my office here in Columbus, care of me. That will take care of forwarding your mail. If you work and don't want to work again, call your employer and quit today, citing everything but the lottery result as a reason. Cancer of the right toe-nail sounds about right as an excuse if you need one." "File any personal changes of address forms to my office in care of me. We'll have you sign a temporary power of attorney for one month and I'll take care of your business during the month." "Don't tell anybody you won the lottery. A blank, dark, news-hole is the idea here." "If you like, I can assemble a team of experts to invest your money, reduce your taxes, and present you a plan for sustainable management of the winnings to make certain that the income from the winnings keeps coming for many more years." "I you sign off on a plan of that kind, we can review it and if you agree, we'll set it in motion. I advise you not to buy anything hugely expensive for now until we see a plan. Disappear into another country or the countryside where no one knows you or the mountains at a nice place for a while." "Don't buy jets or yachts or give millions to anyone. We will go to the lottery office now, if you can. Bring your ID and the ticket. My secretary has already told them we are coming so they can have the check prepared. If we can, we will ask them to keep the winner's name anonymous; if not, we'll set up a legal entity to receive the money to help hid your name from the public." "We will stop by the bank of your choice here in the city and speak to a banker about setting up an account for you, one for a trust if we need it and a new one for you. We will ask for a debit card with no cap on daily withdrawals to begin. Then when the dust settles, we'll apply for an American Express Centurion card." The lottery office took a picture of Joe holding a huge fake check and then handed him a check (a real one) for $31,534,310.50. They also kindly calculated his estimated Ohio taxes at $2,495,969.96 and said he could mail that into the Ohio Department of Taxation within the week by check. They drove by the bank and deposited Joe's check with the banker, opened the two accounts and got the debit cards immediately, one for his personal account and the other for the trust. Joe decided to name the trust the 'New Times Foundation'. He thanked the attorney for guiding him through the process, told him he would pick up his checks at the attorney's office in 4 days or so, and went home to do his tasks. He signed papers forming the trust and the temporary power of attorney form, asked the secretary to forward the checks to General Delivery in Aspen, Colorado and waved 'goodbye'. A week later, separated from his former world by every broken filament he could think of, Joe found himself in Aspen, Colorado. It was still cold at that altitude, plenty of sun, ski season shut down now and only a trickle of visitors. There were plenty of bars, shops with souvenirs and ski equipment sales galore, but no one there he knew. He wondered sometimes about Jim but didn't miss him at all. He visited all three gay bars, but the cowboy vibe hadn't stirred his juices. Too much local gossip, no one like him, no one he could share secrets with. He let his beard grow and kept it trimmed. His new Ohio driver's license arrived, so he bought a used hybrid Mercedes-Benz delivery truck and had it fitted out with plans he found on the internet for that model to make it livable. The large, tall van now had a microwave, solar power, wind generator, double bed, underbed storage, tiny bathroom/toilet/shower, heat, revamped insulation, a clever device that attached securely to his new Honda motorbike with its leather baskets, oven, stove, small freezer, no washer or dryer, a small flat-screen TV/monitor, a portable Wi-Fi router which connected to cell towers to get broadband and a small desk for a laptop. He joined a national camping club and stayed overnight in their camping or RV sites, used their electric and dumping facilities, and sometimes their showers. He began to connect to others finally, taking in other people's stories, and found a surprising diversity of life in the RV community at the camps. At a grocery store in rural Ohio he shopped for basic foodstuffs and noted a good=looking, well-built guy looking over the produce. The guy didn't pick any of it out but acted interested in the cabbage. "How do you fix cabbage?" he asked the guy. "Very carefully when I get it. I boil it like everything else. I don't have electricity." "No electricity available where you live?" "There probably is. I see the electric lines. But I never could afford electricity or the appliances." "What do you do for heat?" "I have a fireplace in my barn." Joe now curious beyond just a little bit, went on. "You have to go out to the barn to cook." "Nah, I live in the barn, you see. The cows are downstairs, and they shed some heat in the winter and I sleep in the hayloft. Good thing heat tends to rise." "How do you shower?" Joe couldn't imagine life without a warm shower... "I don't. I take a bath once a week in a tub. I pour in boiling water from the fireplace to take the chill off. I add more boiling water to wash the clothes, wring them almost dry, then hang them to dry in the hayloft. If I have major linen (blankets) to wash I can do them in town. They have a place with washers and dryers." "I would really like to see your place." "Sure, um, all I have to feed you is some bread and cheese, but you are welcome to it." "I'll bring the wine." "Sure, bring it for you. I don't drink." "Walk around with me and help me choose some stuff you can eat." David didn't play social games. He didn't know any to play. "Sure, that would be nice." Joe bought cans...fruit, vegetables. David told him he didn't have a fridge or freezer, so he didn't get any frozen food or dairy other than a kind of cheese David pointed out... Tillamook medium cheddar. Joe carted up a couple loaves of bread, some boxed juices, some apples and navel oranges, and some bottled water. When they got to the cash register, Joe hauled out his debit card. "What's that for?" Joe just about fell over. "It's a card to pay for groceries. Some people link them to their bank account to pay for things and don't have to use coins or dollar bills." "It must be a little like a credit card. My landlady, Mrs. Sloan, has one of those. I pay my rent by doing jobs for her at her place." "One pays for a credit card by paying all the purchases or part of them a month later. The amount of any purchased on a debit card is deducted on the spot at the time of purchase," explained Joe. They went out of the store. "Which car is yours, David?" "Never had one. I walked here like always." Joe packed the food in the motor home. "Jump in the other side and you can tell me the way to your place as we drive." "Go south three miles then..." "Which way is south...left or right here?" A worried look came into David's face. This guy didn't know which way was south. He wondered if he knew which way was up. "Um, left here and I'll tell you directions right and left now." They arrived at the barn. "I've got to make sure the cows have water." "I'll come with you." "Sure thing. Watch where you step. There are cow pies everywhere. "What's a cow pie?" "That patch of cow shit you just stepped in." Joe began to giggle, then laughed out loud, then they both began to laugh. Joe felt alive for the first time in a long time. Joe wiped his shoes off back at his delivery van and changed into clean jeans, socks, sneakers and shirt. He went into the barn where David had started the fire and was toasting some bread and cheese for supper. After supper, they banked the fire a little, meaning for it to last all night. There was still a little light left outside so David showed Joe his garden, proud of its progress so far. Joe noted the rustic fence around the garden and didn't say anything. At dusk, David turned to Joe. "Why don't you come up and try out the hayloft tonight." For reasons he couldn't think of, Joe wanted to do exactly that more than anything he'd ever wanted before. They climbed the wooden ladder one at a time. It creaked some. There was a pile of blankets stacked neatly in one corner on a hay bale. There was a pile of straw which David expertly fluffed up and made flat, then he put a thick blanket over the straw, then another for a top cover. David straightened up and Joe watched him shed every stitch of clothes. "I use the clothes for blankets next to me sometimes when it's colder because they are warm already when I take them off." "Take your clothes off, Joe and climb in." Joe decided that the guy was hospitable and gave him some more points for that. He took all of his clothes off, forgetting to stare at David, who wasn't staring either. David was already in bed grabbing more blankets and clothes to pile on top of them. Joe kept a reasonable distance away from David. He watched David's eyes close and after a few minutes a regular breathing pattern emerged. David was out for the night. Joe tried to analyze his day and his feelings, felt a piece of straw poking his abdomen so had to turn a little and then he felt another piece of straw poking him in his leg...a few minutes or hours later he was still struggling with the straw. The temperature in the barn began to drop and the blankets didn't seem to help much. He began to shiver and then he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He jumped. "You are shivering and have goosebumps! You must be cold. Here... move over here and we'll both keep warm like the cows do in the winter. Sometimes they sleep standing up and pressed together to keep warm. Come on over here." Joe moved and felt like he was lying next to a heater. His muscles relaxed. David was pressed up to his back and his skin was the heater. Nothing more was said. David's regular breathing resumed. Joe felt himself relax, felt safe enough, the hay smelled good, he could hear the cows below making occasional noises, his eyes got heavy and the straw poking him became less noticeable and then he, too, fell asleep. Joe awoke the next morning. David's cock, large, long, and hard, humping a little... was in the crack of his butt and David, waking, was too sleepy to actively know yet about how good that felt. Joe just relaxed and wondered what David knew or didn't know about uses for that weapon of his. Joe tactfully just ignored the thrilling presence of David aroused and went with the flow. After a while, David fully awakened and pulled away to stand up. After a couple of minutes David stepped away to pee in a bucket over behind a hay bale. "How did you sleep, Joe?" "Like a log. Real good." "I've got break and cheese for breakfast." "David, it's my turn to feed you." While you get ready for the day, I'll make breakfast in the van and honk the horn when it is ready. OK?" "Sure, that sounds fine." Joe hauled out eggs, potatoes and bacon. He washed the potatoes, peeled and grated them, rinsed them well, let them drain and then dried them really well. He fired up the grill and fried the potatoes with some canola oil on both sides until they were crunchy and brown. He salted them and put them in a warm oven. He fried the bacon, broke four eggs into a bowl, whisked them to an inch of their lives, removed the bacon when it was crisp and added them to the warming oven. He poured the eggs into a warm frying pan and constantly moved them around over low heat, adding salt and a little bit of white pepper at the end, taking care not to let any of the eggs begin to brown. He added a small amount of grated 'Mexican' cheese, fresh feta cheese, fresh spinach leaves, salt and pepper to taste and avocado slices and honked the horn. David opened the door and came in, sniffing the air. "That smells really good. I'm hungry." David looked at the plate Joe handed him. "This is a lot of food. I'll try to eat it all." "I won't be offended if you don't like it or can't eat it all. I wasn't sure what you might like..." "I eat almost anything that doesn't eat me first." I'll bet he doesn't know what might eat him first, thought Joe. But I'm not here to corrupt him and vice-versa. For the first time, Joe's brain jolted a bit. What the hell was he doing here? He knew he liked being there, that was for darn sure. David didn't stop eating until after the last bite. He didn't talk or look around; he just ate like he was starved. "I didn't know if you liked coffee or not," said Joe, offering a cup of the hot beverage tempered with sweet cream. "I've never tried it." Of course, he hadn't, thought Joe. He wondered what else David hadn't tried and a weird idea came into his mind. Why don't I just stay here for a while, help him around the place, and teach him about the rest of the world. There was the problem of resources. David had the income of the average person in the world, way less than the bottom 1% of the spectrum, but he wasn't starving, and he appeared well-adjusted on the outside, healthy physically and emotionally. He was hospitable and kind... witness the 'come over here' moment when he found out Joe was cold during the night and his simple acceptance of two men naked and touching to fend off the elements. Joe wasn't even sure that David wanted him around for a while. "David, I had an idea to run by you to get your feedback." "Feedback?" "Yeah, I wanted to know what you thought of my idea." "Tell me what the idea is." "I want to stay in the area for a while, not sure how long but until next spring for sure. If I stayed here and helped out and paid rent each month, how would you feel about that?" "Just so long as you're not running from the law or bringing criminals to overrun the place...I like my peace and quiet." Joe had the odd feeling David was reprising the interview that David had had with Mrs. Sloan when he first met her. "I like you and would like the company. We found out this morning that my cock likes your butt early in the morning. That felt really good. You're a good cook. You make breakfast every morning and we can minimize the rent." Joe digested that, grinned inside, and upped the ante. "I'm not sure that straw is the most comfortable thing. Any chance you could sleep naked with me in this double bed?" David got up and tested the bed with his hand. "Sure, that's like sleeping on a pillow or something. Looks like there's enough room for two of us. Does the van stay warm in the winter?" "Real warm." "We could give it a try and if we decide it's not working all you have to do is drive it on down the road. Sounds simple enough. Sure... it sounds like you need help. I'll be happy to help you out."