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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Billy and the Goon - 21. Chapter 21

Billy was in the dim, hot crawlspace above his garage when he realized he wasn’t alone. The goon had somehow silently crept up the ladder.

“Not sure I can do fifty here,” Billy joked, not that the goon had a dependable sense of humor.

“Do ‘em anyway,” the goon snapped, which Billy knew was coming.

So he worked his way flat on the splintery boards and started his push-ups – practically, banging his head on the low, sloping ceiling every time he came up.

“Strip,” the goon said when Billy finished, and he could just imagine the splinters in his dick.

“Oooh, noooo,” Mr. Goon!”

But he hadn’t been wearing much anyway, just shorts and running shoes, so he was quickly naked.

“Spread eagle – on your back,” the goon ordered, and then he tied Billy’s arms that way, looping the cords around the narrow, open spaced floor boards.

Next, he edged Billy – oh, so slowly – using a tube of lube he pulled from somewhere. Sometimes, he worked with his hands. Sometimes, his mouth. Sometimes, he stretched his entire clothed body on top of Billy’s naked one.

It threw Billy into endless spasms, and he was humping the air, over and over.

Moaning, “Let me... Please, let me... Please, Sir, let me...”

The goon twisted his nipples for that “Sir,” but Billy just arched higher, balancing on his shoulders and feet.

And he kept whacking his head back on the floor, each time he nearly shot.

Finally, the goon pushed most of his hand – all four fingers – deep into Billy’s mouth as a kind of living gag and made the boy scream.

Billy easily hit the lowest part of the ceiling, a couple of feet above him. Then he felt it all dripping back on his chest.

He had plenty of time for that, too, because – after making sure the wrist cords were tight, snapping off the hanging lightbulb, climbing down the ladder, and closing the garage door – the goon left, leaving Billy even more in the dark than usual.

But just before he climbed out of the attic, he whispered, “Our gym video has gone viral.”

copyright 2020 Richard Eisbrouch
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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