Billy was in the gym, working on his abs, and it was getting late. But he knew the owner, and the guy often let him stay after hours.
“Just turn on the alarm and pull the door shut,” he said. “It’ll lock after you.”
“I won’t hurt myself,” Billy promised.
“Well, don’t sue me if you do.”
Billy always laughed at that. It’s not like he was using power tools and might cut off a thumb.
Billy was tugging at the cables, facing the training machine, when he felt a pair of hands clamp over his.
“Uh-oh,” he thought. “This can’t be good. There are too many toys in here.”
Still, he hadn’t seen the goon for almost a week and had been so busy at work, there’d barely been time for a couple of jerks in the shower. “Medicinal masturbation,” he called them. And no matter what he thought of the goon, the sex was always fine.
Plus, the fantasies – even if he hurt like the devil for several days afterward.
“Keep going,” the goon ordered, and he jerked down Billy’s shorts – Billy was already working without a shirt.
As Billy tugged on the cables, the goon slid into him, and – with every squat – pushed harder.
And said, “More.”
More than Billy usually did? Or more than he thought he could?
He was already hard, and though it felt like he was being fucked by part of the machine, he kept going. The goon kept his balance by firmly keeping a grasp on Billy’s pecs.
“This is gonna make a great video,” he whispered, and Billy only hoped the camera was behind them.
“Don’t worry,” the goon assured him. “No one’ll see your face.”
When it seemed the goon was finished, he ordered, “Stay,” then pulled Billy out of his shorts, wiping himself with them.
“Fifty,” he followed. “Facing the machine.”
Billy was again happy the camera was off his face.
When he was done, the goon said, “Turn over,” and he sat on Billy’s abs, facing him, masked. But he had two five pound weights in his hands, and Billy wondered where they would go.
It didn’t take long to find out. One weight went on either side of Billy’s left nipple, and the goon squeezed.
“Yeeee-oooowww!” Billy yelled.
“Don’t think anyone’ll hear you,” the goon said, laughing.
The gym was in a small strip mall, and everything around it was closed.
The goon next moved the weights to Billy’s right nipple, and Billy gave the same Tarzan yell. Only this time, the goon held the weights longer, so Billy’s scream stretched.
He knew not to beg – that would only bring more pain. And after maybe ten minutes, the goon quit repeatedly switching nipples and let the weights fall carelessly on Billy’s chest.
“Keepers,” he explained – because they compressed Billy’s nipples but didn’t really hurt.
Then he turned around on Billy’s belly, pushing aside his wayward dick. Billy didn’t know what weights he was using this time, because the goon’s bare back blocked his view. But his balls got crunched between them – hard.
After a minute, the goon let up. Only to come back stronger.
That stopped when Billy squirted in the air – which seemed all the goon was after. He laughed again, let the weights roll crazily across the floor, pulled his mask halfway up, and kissed Billy.
Then he bound Billy’s hands and feet, pulled on his own clothes, kissed Billy good night, killed the lights, set the alarm, and let the door lock behind him.