Homebound
#5 of Confessions of a Gay Porn Star
Jimmy goes home with the hopes of enjoying some quality time with his boyfriend.
Hehhey dearies!
A small mood piece here - I felt like going back to this character, after such a long time...we're talking about pre-BOBB work here! *chuckle* But it still has something good about it, I think, it was a fun exercise in writing, and perhaps I'll figure something else for him to do :P So, don't forget to check out the previous installments - you might find them interesting!
As always, don't forget to comment - votes and faves will also go a long way helping people to find these stories to enjoy!
Have a fun read!
*
Tuesday's not a gym day, so once my shift at Starbucks ended, I simply took my car and went home. The old electric drive hummed as I rumbled along the road in the eternal traffic jam, one paw fiddling with the radio to find something good to listen to while my fingers thrummed the steering wheel. Kurt sometimes ribbed me about that steering wheel, considering that nowadays you only got them as a retro option on new cars, but on this particular automobile, there was no choice. You seen those old red light seven-segment displays they sometimes fit on the dash for battery status and stuff? All blinking lights and small panels with actual manual switches on them, perfect for bragging about on Facebook.
Well, it's all reality to me, so I don't see the fuss. I'm just glad that they used to build these cars out of aluminum during the 20's. Means that it's impervious to trust and if I'm a good kitten and take good care of the batteries, I might get a few more miles out of this old baby. Well, it should, anyway, because my booty bought it, and I'm no longer in the booty business, so perhaps this mobile monument to my previous career shall do. Kurt doesn't mind the car. He just doesn't want one of his own. Guess he doesn't need one, anyway, since he works from home.
Damn, I hoped he had some dinner ready at home.
Another set of traffic lights put me onto an automatic standstill, and my tail snapped against the floor of the car from the small jolt the care made as the breaks cut in on their own accord and stopped me from tailgating the shiny Honda in front of me. The car realized it had come to a stop and flashed a few local news headlines onto the screen on the dashboard that only came up when you weren't moving. Some sort of a security feature, lol. Might as well give you some better news, too.
The Honda's brake lights flashed off and I knew that I was ready to go soon.
How nice would it be to work from home...just log in when you wake up, do some stuff, log out, and you're free! None of this sitting in old cars waiting for some stupid Honda to move its lousy shiny ass off. Or sweeping Starbucks floor a couple dozen times every night, and stir up a few double soy latte frappumappuchino with extra algae cream. And make it kosher. Stat!
Stupid, huh?
The porn industry is like the professional sports, in a way. You get by via physical prowess, you make a lot of cash, but when your career is over, then it's over. There's no pension, and you probably never thought that when the job ends, you've by no means reached the old fart life stage and get to enjoy the joys of state pension. Not with the compulsory age of retirement at 72 nowadays...wonder how I'd get it up at that age, heheh.
Nope. No more for me. Being a 41-year-old poorly educated lion with a relatively nice body is one thing, but having little education besides high school can make it a troublesome to find a job, even if you do look a bit like an ex-bodybuilder or maybe an ex-soldier, without the stern eyes, perhaps. It's not like my resume was too shiny either. "Have appeared in a variety of adult films over a career spanning 18 years. Hard topping, power bottoming, watersports, bondage, age play, bareback. Please contact Blue Paws Productions for references."
_ _
Well, at least you don't need a college degree for swinging the broom. Funny that almost all my colleagues are working on their degrees, and just doing the whole coffeeshop thing just to get a few extra bucks. For me it's all the bucks I'm making, so that's a big difference.
I've been talking about community college to Kurt, who seems to think it's an okay idea. Not sure if I'm up to it, though. Not sure if I got the brain for it. Never put my brain into much use, I guess. Wasn't asked to. Didn't need to. I don't think I'm too dumb, though. Maybe just out of shape in the brain department. Nice biceps, though. Kurt's got a bit of a thing for them.
I glanced at each of my arms in turn and grinned a little. Putting these babies around my snowy leopard was always a great part of my day, whatever followed. I couldn't wait to see his mottled furs against my own golden ones, and hear the small purr he liked to give me when we got lovey-dovey. Maybe a bit humpy-bumpy too, if you know what I mean, but that's a maybe. My grumbling stomach told me that some other needs should have to be taken care of before any marital duties were committed.
Stupid traffic.
*
It seemed like two hours or something, even if I knew it couldn't have been more than twenty-five minutes, before I swept down the ramp and into the parking hall of the high-rise that was my home. I plugged the car into the recharger on its booth and then sauntered to the elevator, enjoying the cool air and the little stretching the walk gave for my legs. I was never one for staying in one place too long. Made me feel like I'd rather be doing something.
I yawned and stretched my paws high up above my head once I was in the elevator and listening to its gentle hum as it took me up to the 15th floor. The elevator smelled of chocolate, of all things, and once I got my arms up, a whiff of coffee joined in. The smell made me feel even hungrier, and my stomach agreed. How long had it been since I ate? I did eat that muffin back at work...cost me a buck...so I guess that was a bargain...
Oh, Kurt, I'll love you so much for dinner.
I ejaculated myself (beheheheheheeh!) out of the elevator into the hallway and hobbled along the corridor until I reached my door. I punched in the six-digit code to let myself in, and stepped into what was a dark living room. Light shone in from the door to the kitchen, but that wasn't really a good sign, as wasn't the strong, frothy smell that filled the apartment.
"I'm hooooome!" I hollered, my tail stretching itself out behind me as I kicked off my shoes and turned on the lights with a quick flick of my paw.
I didn't wait for the answer, but instead stepped into the bedroom through the open doorway, and found Kurt sitting on his corner, in the position I most often found him in, on his data chair with his goggles on and VR-glove fingers doing whatever stuff he did while he was working on the "fractal code space" or whatever he called that thing he did when he did his job. There were a couple of empty protein shake cans on the floor by him, and a wrapper that couldn't have come from anywhere except a microwave meal, and I knew that he hadn't cooked tonight. My ears drooped a little at the discovery. My stomach grumbled.
"Hi!" I repeated, hoping that his hypnotic state would be broken through a more direct intervention.
Well, I guess it worked, since his paws stopped moving and an ear flicked, though he didn't turn his head towards me. It wouldn't have mattered, anyway. Those goggles didn't let anything from the real world in.
"Hi, Jimmy," my snow leopard muttered. "Is it already five?"
"Just about," I replied quietly. "You busy?"
"It's a disaster," Kurt's tail flapped the floor between his outstretched footpaws. "15,000 payment transactions are stuck in a limbo because some code segment has flipped. We've got 20 guys trying to troubleshoot this space to see what's going on but it's still a bit of a mess."
I rumbled a little. I wasn't sure what he was doing there in his virtual world, but from knowing that he worked for Walmart, I suspected that this meant that the money transfer system had collapsed, or something. Not good, I suppose. My eyes surveyed the mess in the bedroom, and I rubbed my chin, unseen by Kurt.
"You hungry?" I asked.
"Starving," the leopard replied with a small smile. "But there's nothing in the fridge."
Guess his groceries-shopping scheduled for today didn't happen, either. I rubbed the back of my cappuchino-scented neck and rumbled.
"What do you want on your pizza then?" I asked.
I could see his smile, even if I couldn't see his eyes, beyond those goggles.
"Oh you're a lifesaver, Jimmy..." Kurt purred loudly.
I smiled back, out of habit.
"I'd say the home delivery pizza is, but..."
The snow leopard's ears perked suddenly.
"I'm getting a call from the West Coast...uhh...sorry, could you...just whatever I usually like, okay?" Kurt mumbled, paws beginning to move again.
"Sure," I said as I slipped out of the room.
*
Well, maybe not quite the beginning to my evening that I had hoped for, but it wasn't the first this had happened. Maybe this was what it was like to be together with a fireman. Sometimes you were called into emergency action. In Kurt's case, he could do that without leaving the apartment. Just had to accept that and move on. I was too hungry to waste much time grumbling to myself, anyway. My order was done quickly over the computer in the living room, and then I had ample time for a nice, lazy shower and a dry before I took a position of vigil by the TV to wait for the pizza guy. His arrival was like a gastronomical miracle, and even though the pizza delivery didn't end how it did end in my small classic film "DADDY LION BANGS PIZZA BOY GOOD 3D", I still gave the college kid some free eye candy and a tip, as I received my fatty meal from him.
"Thanks a bunch!"
A quick peek into the bedroom told me that I shouldn't wait for Kurt, which meant some rather messy pizza-eating for me on the couch while watching the TV, but I didn't mind. I liked licking my fingers after I was done, heheh. Getting my stomach packed with food and my brain zeroed with bad TV might've been naughty of me, but I'd known worse ways to spend my evenings. The only thing missing was my fluffy hairball of a boyfriend to cuddle with one arm while my other paw was busy pushing more pizza into my muzzle. Funny how it felt like he was so far away even though he was only in the other room. Guess that's what all that virtual reality did to you after a while.
Listen to me now, sounding like an old queen. And I'm not old yet! 41 is young, I suppose. And I'm not a queen. I'm the hunk gay guy's wet dreams are made of, with a little bit of extra flab after cutting down my exercise regime. Working out might've been a big part of my life for sure, but the amount of it you had to do to stay in top performing shape could be a bitch, let me tell you. Or maybe I've just gotten lazier with age.
Age!
I rubbed my nice and full belly and reminded myself not to think about age. I was young! Young! Young and enjoying my life!
I yawned. Maybe I should take a nap....though that might make it difficult to sleep in the evening...