The Broken Window

By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
Artwork (c) 2003 by Eduardo

Illustration of Broken Window "Hey, come on, batter, batter, batter!" Billy called out. The sun was shining, the skies were clear, the weather was warm but not hot, they had the entire afternoon, it was his friends, all of them on both teams, a perfect day, a great day for a game of baseball!

And it was his turn to hit next, he was going to knock it right out of the park!

Well, out of the lot they were playing on, anyhow. Not a terrific feat, but with a softball, that was pretty darned good. Right now, he was playing catcher for the other team, with only fifteen guys for both teams, they had to double up on positions during their time at bat. But heck, everyone played fair, on a day like today, it was fun just to catch and run and throw and hit and this let them to it even more than full teams would have!

Winslow, the guy at bat, connected on the second throw, enough to make it to first base and let the guy on second get to third! He was next batter-up, if he could hit a home run and get his team four points! Right, yeah!

He picked the bat off the ground, stepped up to the plate, crouched over, gritted his teeth, the picture-perfect image of a thirteen-year-old kid in a pickup game, ready to hit the ball so blasted hard!

Tommy raised his arm, raised back onto one leg, and then forward and he threw the ball hard! Billy swung the bat around and there was a solid, satisfying "cra-ack" as the bat hit the ball and hit it just right!

It flew and Billy dropped the bat and began to run, but he wasn't looking at the bases, he was looking at the ball, at that beautiful ball flying up and up and up and out and out and out and down, Yes! it was clearing the fence, clearing it easily, Yes! it was going all the way over the alley the other side of the fence, Yes! it was going over the fence across the alley even, it was...Oh, NO!

He felt the disaster coming even before he heard the sound, the sound of breaking glass. It was a big sound, too, full of volume and strength, a deep shattering sound. Oh, no! No! NO!

Suddenly, their two teams of baseball players turned into fifteen scared kids, looking at each other.

"Oh, man!" Tommy said for all of them. "Billy, what are we going to do?"

"Got to go talk to him." Billy said. "We got to go talk to him."

"I'm not going over there!" Winslow said.

"Me, neither!"

"That's Mr. Milburn's place!" Charley put in. "He's mean, real mean!"

"Drives a truck."

"He kicked my brother's dog and it was just barking at him."

"Mean man, Milburn." another said.

They were looking at him, Billy realized. Those that weren't looking at their feet, digging their toes into the dirt.

"Any of you going to come with me? He asked them. Looked at Tommy, who wasn't able to look him in the eyes. "Not even you, Tommy?"

"You hit the ball." someone said. He was looking at Tommy, so he didn't know who said it, the voice was too faint. But everyone looked like they agreed.

"All right." Billy said. "Fine. I'll go talk to him all by myself, then! I'm not afraid of him."

But he was. Geez, what was he going to do? He'd have to tell Mr. Milburn he'd pay for the glass. He started walking for the sidewalk, had to go around the fence, past the alley and up to the house. It was like walking on spikes, every step hurt, really hurt! He had to make himself move everything by sheer force of will, it was like he wasn't really connected to his body, he was like riding inside, and it was all unreal, totally unreal.

The door came toward him, he wasn't walking, it was the door coming towards him.

So when it opened as he walked up to it, he wasn't that surprised. Inside the doorway was Mr. Milburn.

God, he was as mean-looking as everyone else had said. Wearing a pair of dirty bluejeans and a T-shirt that was skin-tight on the broad chest, his armpits had hairs peering out on either side. There was a beard-shadow on his face, his eyes were set deep inside their sockets, and his hand was huge as he lifted it up and showed its contents to Billy, as Billy gulped hard and looked at the baseball in that hand, then up at the face.

"This your ball?" he asked.

"Yes, sir." Billy said.

"You broke my window." Mr. Milburn growled.

"I know, sir, and I'm sorry." Billy said. "I'll pay for it, honest."

"Pay for it, huh?" Mr. Milburn said. "You know how much that window cost?"

"No, sir." Billy considered it, ventured, "Twenty dollars?" That would take all his allowance for a month, but...

"Try a hundred and sixty." Mr. Milburn said.

"Huh?" Billy was astounded. He had gone with his dad to the hardware store and... "Nuh-uh!" he protested. "They sell panes of glass at the hardware store for ten or fifteen dollars, even!"

"Yeah?" Mr. Milburn said. "And how big are those panes of glass?"

Billy held his hands about six inches apart. "This wide."

"Come in and see which window you broke."

Billy remembered how that sound had been so big, how it had resounded, and his heart sank. Mr. Milburn was walking away and he stopped, turned back. "Well, come on!" he snarled back. "Take a look at it."

Billy walked inside and through the hallway and into the living room. "Oh, my God!" he breathed when he saw it.

The window was huge, over four feet high and nearly ten feet long. And right in the middle of it was a great big hole, where his ball had come crashing through it. Lines emanated from the hole in all directions, the window was now a bunch of disconnected triangles held in place only by the window-jamb.

"You see that mess?" Mr. Milburn said harshly.

"Yes, sir." Billy said. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Sorry doesn't buy me a new window. You'd better call your father and tell him to come over."

His father! Oh, God! "Sir, don't call my father!" Billy pleaded. "I'll pay for it, honest I will! Just give me some time, sir, I can pay you some every week."

"A hundred and sixty dollars, kid?" Mr. Milburn looked at him. "You don't have that kind of money. Nobody living here has that kind of money. Even your father probably doesn't have that much money."

He probably didn't, Billy knew that he and his mother fought about money all the time, how they always were struggling to pay for everything. Sometimes they didn't even have the five dollars for his allowance! Dad would hand him an IOU and have to borrow the money from the guys at work to give to him. Made him feel dirty, taking the money from him then, the way his Dad's lower lip trembled as he turned over the money!

"I could work for you." Billy offered. "Do things for you, mow the lawn, or something."

"You?" Mr. Milburn looked surprised. "Work for me? Hell, kid, what could you do for me that would be worth a hundred and sixty dollars?"

"I don't know." Billy admitted. "But I'll do anything, sir, anything at all!"

"Hah!" Mr. Milburn guffawed, a single burst of sound filled with scorn. "I only pay twenty dollars to get my pipes cleaned on Saturday night!"

Twenty dollars. "I could clean your pipes." Billy volunteered. He didn't know what was involved but if Mr. Milburn needed it done every week. "Every week, sir, for eight weeks, that'd do it, right?"

Mr. Milburn looked at him hard all of a sudden. "You know what it means to have your pipes cleaned?"

"No, sir, but...."

"If you don't know what it is, how do you know you can do it?"

"I can try." Billy said.

Mr. Milburn looked at him and then he burst out laughing. "Well, kid, if you want to try, then I'll let you try."

"Right now?"

"Right now." Mr. Milburn said. "And right here."

"Here?" Billy looked around. There weren't any pipes around here and...

He looked back and Mr. Milburn was unbuttoning his pants. He reached and pulled out... "Here's the pipe, kid. Now do you get it?"

Mr. Milburn's cock was huge, even soft and it was rising up, getting hard, filling out.

Billy stared at it, gulped. "I haveta clean that?" he asked.

"If you want the twenty bucks, you do, kid. Hey, this was your idea, remember? I can always call your old man instead."

"What do I have to do?" Billy said. "Clean it? With a washrag?"

"Naw, kid, you clean it by putting it in your mouth. Jeez, are you really that dumb? I thought kids were smarter about sex than that these days! When I said clean my pipes, I meant getting a blow job, sucking me off, slurping on my pud. Get it now, kid?"

"Yes, sir." Billy said.

"So we clear on this?" Mr. Milburn said. "Either get on your knees and start to work on it, or get your father over here and tell him to cut me a check."

"Twenty dollars for doing it, huh?" Billy said. "Once a week?"

"Yep." Mr. Milburn waggled his cock at Billy.

And Billy took a step over and dropped down to his knees. "Guess I'd better get started, then, huh?"

And he touched his lips to the fat cock and and let the glans slide over his tongue and inside.

"Holy Jesus Christ, kid!" Mr. Milburn gasped.

Billy pulled on the thick pud and out with his lips and let it go, took it in his hand and looked up. "Can I have the job then? Twenty dollars, like you said?"

Mr. Milburn snorted. "You got the dick in your mouth, all right. Now, can you suck it good enough to be worth twenty dollars?" He grinned meanly.

"I can try." Billy said bravely.

"Then do it." Mr. Milburn said. "Come on, kid, suck it!"

Billy put the huge prick back into his mouth and Mr. Milburn groaned again as he did so. "Damn, yeah, come on, boy, suck my man's dick. Taste what a real man packs between his legs, kid!"

Billy slid his lips back and forth over the fat dick. He had to do a good job on this, he had to! Dad would pay for the window, sure...but then Billy would have to hear about it while Dad kept back his allowance to pay for it. Five dollars at a time, heck, that was a long time to pay for hitting a ball too hard! After all, this prick didn't taste so bad; he could do this.

Mr. Milburn didn't seem to think so, he grabbed Billy's head and growled, "Shit, kid, move faster than that! Like this!" and he bucked Billy's head back and forth hard and fast. And he let go and said, "Now keep it up, if you want the twenty."

Billy tried best he could, and Mr. Milburn moaned. "Ah, shit, yeah, you little fuck, yeah, suck my dick, pay off that broken window, you little bastard!"

Those hard, horned hands came up and grabbed his head again, but this time Mr. Milburn only grunted as he resumed control of Billy's head. Billy choked as the huge dong was shoved deeper down his throat, as it was moved faster and faster, hitting the roof of his mouth, the spongy glans mushing against his soft tissue, salty precome smearing across it, sticking there, leaving its taste in a spot where he couldn't lick it or swallow it or anything.

"Huh, uh, yeah, kid, shit, yeah!" Mr. Milburn was grunting. "Ah, fuck, yeah, I'm going to come, you little fuck, I'm going to come! Uh, uh, uh, uh, unhh!" He thrust even harder now, Billy was downright choking, but he couldn't get loose!

"Ah, fuck yeah, yeah, uh, guh, uh, guh, GUH-HNNNKUHHHH!" Mr. Milburn groaned and Billy was drowning now. Hot salty jizz poured down his throat, deep down where he couldn't do anything but swallow it. He choked, sputtered, the jizz got into his windpipe and he stuck there and he coughed and jizz spewed up his nose and out his nostrils, searing as it went, and still Mr. Milburn pumped come into him.

"GUH, KUH, GUH, HUH, MUH, UH, HUH!" Mr. Milburn groaned even after his pud had shot all its wads down Billy's throat. "Ah, shit, kid, yeah."

Poor Billy was snuffling and snorting, trying to spurt all the jizz out of his nostrils so he could breathe, and he managed it after a fashion, he felt thoroughly splattered and filled with Mr. Milburn's jism. When Mr. Milburn let him go, he fell back onto the floor, wiping his face with his hand and arm, smearing sticky jizz all over as he did, and it dried and soaked in, so that he was smelling, feeling, covered in come.

Billy coughed hard, and jizz came up through his windpipe and he spit it out, looking up at Mr. Milburn.

"Well, kid, that's how you clean a man's pipes." Mr. Milburn said. "Twenty bucks worth of pipe-cleaning, that leaves you owing me a hundred and forty for that window." He was smirking at Billy as he tucked his spent pud back into his pants.

"You mean I got to do that again seven more times?" Billy was dismayed.

"That's the price." Mr. Milburn said. "But if you want to get it over with, I'll let you come by again tomorrow and you can clean my pipes again for me."

"Oh." Billy stood up, snuffled, wiped his nose again. "I guess."

"Hey, kid, you'll get used to it." Mr. Milburn said almost kindly, for him. He was grinning too wide for it to be too kind. "You learn to suck me right, I won't hold your head like that." He paused, then said, "Or you can clean my pipes the other way."

"I'll think about it." Billy said. "Can I go now? Will you call my dad?"

"I won't call, long as you show up here tomorrow after school." Mr. Milburn said.

"Yes, sir." Billy said.

As he started to walk out, Mr. Milburn called after him. "Hey, kid, don't take it so bad. You'll even get to like it. You finish paying for that window, you can starting earning some spending money."

Billy went outside, and Tommy was waiting. "Hey, Billy, what happened?" he said. "What'd he say, what'd he do?" He urged. "I looked in the window and...what were you doing in there?"

"He's going to let me work it off." Billy said. "I have to come by after school."

"You can't play ball with us?"

"Oh, yeah, it won't take too long. I can even keep doing it when I get him paid off."

"Cool! We can buy new gloves and stuff!" Tommy said. "You got the ball?"

"Sure." Billy said.

"Then come on, let's play!"

"Right!" Billy said and the two boys ran out to the next door lot. It wasn't quite the end of summer weather yet!


Comments, complaints or suggestions?
E-mail me at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM

(The Story You Just Read is Available in "The Games That Men Play" book)