Usual disclaimers apply. The following contains male-to-male sex.
If you are under age or such reading is illegal in your country,
please go elsewhere. Otherwise, please enjoy.
Critiques are welcomed at Kindar11@Yahoo.ca
Desmond pulled the truck to a stop, leaned back in his seat and sighed, happy to finally be back at the yard. “You two stay in the truck until I get back,” he told his passengers without turning, “and don’t do anything that’ll make the truck move”. He’d decided it would be too risky to just drop them off at another truckstop, they didn’t know the area, barely had enough money for a sandwich and he liked them.
He grabbed the paperwork for his load and went to the office. “Afternoon Sylvie,” he told the woman at the desk in front of the door as he handed her the papers.
“Hi Desmond, how was the road?” She looked the papers over and wrote a note on the top page.
“It’s been ok, glad to be back,” he said, and then, “what’s this?” when she handed him a large manila envelope.
“That’s your next
load. It’s in the
yard, going to
“What do you mean my next load? I’m going home.”
She shrugged and looked at him, “the order came from the boss.”
Desmond looked across the room to the man sitting in his office, smoking a cigar while talking on the phone. “The son of a bitch,” he muttered and walked to the office, slamming the door shut and throwing the envelope on the desk.
“I’m going to have to call you back Raymond, it shouldn’t be long,” the older man hung-up.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Desmond demanded.
His boss opened the envelope and looked at the papers. “That’s a load for Insoft, you know they’re an important customer, and then need their load delivered ASAP.”
“Then find someone else to do it.”
“I can’t, you’re the only driver here.”
“Not my problem, I logged in my home time two weeks ago, so I’m going home.”
“Look Desmond, I need you to work with me here, just deliver the load, we’ll find you something coming right back here and then you can go home.”
Desmond snorted; he’d fallen for that one when he first started working for this asshole. If he took the load it would be weeks before he’d be back here. He might have taken it if it had only been him, since he didn’t have anything serious planed, but he had his kids to think of too. “I wouldn’t take that load of shit even if you paid me a premium for it, which you never do.” He turned and headed to the door.
“If you walk out that door,” his boss said as Desmond put a hand on the knob, “you might as well empty your truck cause you’re not going to be working for me again, or anyone else for that matter.” Desmond turned and glared at the man, who just smiled. “Good, now be a good driver; take your papers and go make that delivery.”
Desmond’s hand tightened around the knob as he imagined it was his boss’ neck and he felt it being crushed. He let go of it before he ripped it off t he door and looked at the imprint his fingers left in it, realizing he had a new option.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” his boss asked, “you want me to start making calls to the other companies explaining why they shouldn’t hire you?”
Desmond felt his anger flare at the threat, but he forced himself to remain calm. He closed the blinds and walked back to the desk, watching his boss frown. He reached for the envelope he was handing him, but instead grabbed his wrist and pulled so the man was belly on the desk.
“Don’t say a word,” Desmond ordered his boss tightening his grip, “don’t even make a sound and listen to me you son of a bitch.” He watched as the man opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out. “I’ve worked for you for ten years and every time I come home it’s the same thing, you try to fuck me over by giving me that one extra load no one else can make; the one you can’t trust anyone else with. You know what? I figure you get off on screwing your drivers over. I’ve screamed, and complained, but I’ve done what you told me, I’ve been a good little driver and bent over for you.”
Desmond placed a hand on the top of his boss’ head and let go of his wrist. “Don’t fight,” he told him as he moved behind him, pushing the chair out of the way. “All that is going to end today; I’ve taken your shit for long enough now I’m going to give you a taste of what it’s been like.” He bent over his boss. “Now,” he whispered to the man,” you’re going to undo your belt and then your pants, when that’s done you’re going to put both hands flat on the desk.” Desmond watched as the man’s hands moved out of view and listened to the buckle being played with. He smiled and rubbed himself against his boss’ ass, growing hard very quickly. “Don’t move, not even one inch,” he told him after the hands resurfaced.
He let go of him and took a step back as he undid his pants and dropped them. His boss wasn’t a bad looking man; he had a bit of fat on him, but exercised regularly. If it wasn’t for his personality and the fact that he was straight Desmond would probably have hit on him at some point. He pulled the man’s pants down and ran a hand on the exposed ass and stroking himself and spreading his precum over his cock.
He didn’t say anything as he moved back into place, rubbing his cock against the man’s ass crack, spreading precum to slick him up. Desmond couldn’t remember ever precumming this much before and assumed it was a side effect of being a half demon. He pressed in before his boss was fully lubed up, feeling the man tense under him as he penetrated him.
Desmond grunted the sensation of the mans ass pulling at his cock not being all that pleasurable for him either, but he forced on, he wanted to be sure his soon to be ex boss was going to remember this sensation for a very long time. He pulled out and then in again, this time his cock moved in easily slicked by his precum and, he noticed looking down, some blood. He didn’t care and proceeded to ram his shaft as deep as it would go, making the man exhale sharply.
Desmond looked at the back of the man’s head as he raped him, a feral grin on his face, feeding his anger at every time this man had ruined one of his plans into his thrusting. He didn’t vocalize how he felt; except for the occasional grunts he was as silent as his victim. When he reached orgasm he ground his teeth to avoid yelling out at the intensity of it, grabbing the man by the hips and pushing himself in deep as he emptied his balls.
“Keep you ass clenched,” he said once he’d caught his breath and before pulling out unceremoniously. He put his pants back on and pulled his old boss’ pants up. “Buckled up and then sit down,” he told the man before removing his hand off his lower back. He obeyed, looking at Desmond with a mix of anger and shame, tears rolling down his face.
Desmond sat on the edge of the desk and threw the box of tissue in the man’s lap before taking hold of his chin, pulling his face up so they could look at each other eyes to eyes.
“I hope that really hurt, cause I want you to remember that sensation for the rest of your life. I want you to know how it feels to be screwed over at someone else’s whim. I want that sensation to be lodged deep in your mind and for it to come back to you every time you even consider screwing one of your drivers over, is that understood?” The man didn’t react, but Desmond could see in his eyes that he did so now he readied himself for the next part. He didn’t know if he could do it; he didn’t know *what* he was able to do, but Robust had said that he could make Martin and Jason forget what he’d done to them, so he was going to try something like that here.
“I want you to forget that I raped you,” he said still holding the man’s chin, “as far as you’re concerned all we did was argue, understood?” The man nodded. “Good, now dry those tears off your face.” Desmond let go of him and walked to the door, turning as he opened it, looking at the man who seemed to be a little lost, squirming in his chair. “I quit,” Desmond told him before pulling the door close and walking out of the office. He didn’t care of the man ever remembered what he’d tone to him, as far as he was concerned he deserved it.
Desmond walked to his old pickup and managed to start it on the second try, with a grinding of old gears he got it moving and drove it next to the truck, close enough to the passenger door that once it was open he could walk in the truck from the tailgate.
“Jason,” Desmond said as Martin was in the process of hurriedly pulling his pants on to hide his wet cock, only to relax when he realized who it was, “Get off your knees and get on my pickup, We’ll be handing you my gear just stow it anywhere.”
With their help he took everything out of the truck, surprising himself at the lack of emotion he felt to be stripping everything that had given his home on the road for the last three years any personality.
Please send Comments and Critiques to Kindar11@Yahoo.ca