Billy and the Goon - 14. Chapter 14

Billy had a flat tire on the way home from the hospital after a long day at work. He was simply too beat to fix it in the dark on the isolated shortcut he drove, so he called Triple A.

As soon as the tow truck pulled up, and he saw the driver, he asked, “How do you keep finding me?” And he dropped to the ground and started his fifty.

“Hey, Buddy, I’m just here to fix your car, not work out,” the goon joked.

“Sure you are,“ Billy was thinking. And he opened his shirt.

His chest was bare underneath, and he popped his belt, dropped his pants and shorts, and was bare there, too. Then he turned around, braced himself on the side of the truck as he had on the dumpster, and bent over.

“Wow! Bonanza!” the goon said. “You’re just lucky I’m into this, or I’d beat the shit out of you.”

“You’ll beat it out of me anyway,” Billy thought, half looking forward to that but also really tired.

“And you’re lucky it’s a slow night,” the goon went on. “So we have time.”

If they did, he didn’t take it and just battered at Billy as completely as usual. Except this time, he especially tortured him by purposely staying away from his nipples – he just ignored them.

Billy wanted to twist them himself. Or squeeze them. Even just touch them. But his hands were as well as tied by being braced against the truck. Still, he was amazed by how much he missed the pain.

Not that it kept him from shooting. And when finally, the goon caught up, he almost politely pulled up Billy’s shorts and pants. “To keep it all in,” he kidded, and Billy realized he hadn’t been wearing a rubber. This was new, and he didn’t like it at all – it took way too many chances. But it wasn’t the night to be discussed.

Instead, Billy turned back to the goon and asked, “Do you want me to stand by my car while you change the tire, or is it safer if I sit in the truck?”

The goon laughed and said, “After the riding I just gave you, the little boy gets to sit in the truck. And if it wasn’t all worn out, I’d give you a lollipop to suck.”

Billy got into the truck while the goon jacked up his car. And it was only after he was sitting in the cab, waiting for the goon to finish, that he noticed the laminated ID on the dashboard. Damn. Hell. Fuck. This wasn’t the goon at all.