tagGay MaleBig Ben

Big Ben

byrobcub32©

"Benji! Get your fuckin' ass in here," Mr. Boothe shouted from his office.

Mr. Booth was yelling for me again.

My name is Ben, short for Benjamin. Benjamin Carter. I'm 24 years old. I have blond hair and hazel eyes. I'm pretty short at only 5'7" and a little bit too skinny. I don't think I'm anything special to look at. I'm painfully shy and I'm not the most manly of guys, and being gay doesn't help, especially given my work environment.

I've worked at Ace's Trucking and Storage Company for the past five years. I started out as a shipping clerk on the dock, then got promoted to dispatcher two years ago. Because there was already a Big Ben and a Little Ben working here when I started, I got the unfortunate luck of being called Benji.

We have a huge storage warehouse that companies rent for overflow inventory. We have a group of drivers that make those transfers throughout the day, plus a handful of warehouse workers that drive pallet jacks and load and unload trucks. Most of our routes are local to the surrounding counties, but we do have the occasional long haul. As a dispatcher, I help plan the transfers and routes for the truck drivers.

One of the truckers that used to work here knew my dad. Dad was not the most supportive of me, to put it mildly. Unfortunately, he told my co-worker I was a 'fag'. It did not take long for it spread all over the company.

All of my co-workers ignore me for the most part. I don't mind it too much, since I have always been a loner.

Upon hearing Mr. Boothe yelling for me, the other dispatcher, Mona, looked at me and shrugged. Mona was a 40-something single lady who dressed like she was in her twenties. Not that she wasn't good looking. She had a nice figure and was pretty, but she gave off that cougar vibe. She was dating one of the young truckers, a guy in his late twenties.

I got up from my desk and walked into Mr. Boothe's office.

Mr. Boothe was a handsome man in his forties. I've always had a little bit on an attraction to older guys, and Mr. Booth was undeniably hot. He had hazel eyes, brown thinning hair with a goatee and moustache. He was built big, with a little bit of a pot belly. Unfortunately, his personality was so repulsive that it negated any hotness or attraction that I could have felt for him. He was mean and homophobic and he scared the crap out of me.

"Y-y-yes, sir?" I stammered as I stepped in front of his desk.

"You fucked up Chuck's route," he groused.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Yeah, you're sorry. Now apologize. Christ, you are fucking worthless. Get the fuck out of my office!"

Mr. Boothe threw the route sheets at me. I picked them up and returned to my desk. I wiped the tears from my eyes and tried to figure out what I did wrong on Chuck's route.

I knew I wasn't the smartest guy, but I thought I did a good job. The manager before Mr. Boothe always told me I did a great job. He said I was the best dispatcher he knew and that I knew the business and the routes like the back of my hand. He was always kind and supportive. Unfortunately, he quit for a better job out of state and they promoted Boothe. Boothe was always so mean to me and I couldn't help but get nervous and flustered around him, which only made it worse.

I looked over the route papers and I found the mistake and corrected it in the computer system. It was a minor mistake and it only took him off route by a few miles. I don't think it deserved the treatment I got.

As lunch time came around, I picked up my brown lunchbag and the paperback book I was reading and walked to the break room.

"Don't let him get to you, Benji," Mona said as we walked down the hall. "But you know he's going through a divorce, so maybe cut him some slack."

'Yeah, sure. He doesn't cuss YOU out on a daily basis,' I thought.

I simply sighed. "I guess..."

Mona joined her boyfriend and the two of them sat next to each other and snuggled up together.

I sat at my customary table in the back corner, by myself. As always.

As I pulled out my peanut butter sandwich and slowly ate, a handful of drivers and warehouse guys came in for their lunch break. I listened to their loud conversations as I ate my sandwich. I was still a little hungry when I finished. Maybe I would get something from the machine. I looked in my wallet to see how much I had left for the week. Eight dollars. I decided to save my money. It was only Tuesday and I had to make it last until Friday.

I folded up my paper bag and put it in my back pocket to reuse. I picked up my book and started reading where I left off.

I was lost in my book when I heard the clunk of cowboy boots entering the room. I looked up to see Big Ben strutting in. He sat down by himself as usual and pulled out his lunch from a plastic grocery store bag and quickly dug in.

Even though Little Ben quit long ago, everyone still called him Big Ben, at least they did so behind his back. Ben's nickname was well deserved. He was indeed big. He was like an ogre. He was 6'6" tall and muscular, but not muscular like a body builder, but built big and thick and brawny. I'd guess he was in his early thirties. Ben was rugged and not what I would call handsome. Okay, he was downright ugly. He had big bullish neck, a squarish jaw and a crooked nose that must have been broken more than once. His bottom teeth were pretty crooked as well. He had a scar in his left eyebrow. He had dark auburn red hair cut into a 'high and tight' military fashion. He usually had a few days of beard growth because he didn't shave regularly. Ben also had a sweat problem when it was hot. The armpits of his shirts would always be stained with sweat and I could smell his BO when he'd come near. It was kind of gross, but I actually felt bad for him. He was quiet and kept to himself. He almost seemed shy. He always had a scowl on his ugly mug that made him look scary and unapproachable.

I always did his routes, so I would see him at my desk nearly every day. Unlike all of the other macho assholes that worked here, and despite his scowling appearance, he was actually kind of nice to me. The scowl would disappear when we made small talk at my desk and his voice would be quieter, though still deep and rumbling. I sometimes wondered if his gruff demeanor was an act to keep people away.

I glanced over at him and he was lost in thought, chewing his sub sandwich. I smiled to myself and tried not to giggle when I saw the blob of mustard on his chin. He was a messy eater. I returned to my book with a smile on my face.

***

A couple of days later, Mr. Boothe asked me to work late. I didn't have anything better to do, other than sit in my cold apartment alone. And I sure could use the overtime.

Everyone had gone by 5:00 and I was sitting at my desk working on new customer data when Mr. Boothe yelled for me to get him a cup of coffee. I went to the break room and grabbed a styrofoam cup. The coffee seemed really old, so I dumped it and made a new pot.

I brought the cup to Mr. Boothe and set it on his desk. Mr. Boothe had pulled off his tie and unbuttoned a couple of his shirt buttons. The thick brown hair on his chest was on display and I couldn't help but look.

It reminded me of the only guy I had ever gone all the way with, Dan. Dan was one of Dad's poker buddies. He seduced me and became my first (and only) lover. I believed him when he said he cared about me. After several months, I discovered that I was not his only 'boy toy' as he called me. When I confronted him, I was in tears. He laughed at me. He was cruel and selfish. I was devastated and vowed never to see him ever again.

"What the fuck took you so long?" Mr. Boothe snapped, waking me from my day dream.

"S-s-sorry," I stammered. "I had to make a fresh pot."

"I don't fuckin' care. Quit making excuses. You're as bad as my god damned soon-to-be ex-wife."

"I'm doing the best that I can, Mr. Boothe," I whimpered.

Mr. Boothe stood up and slapped me across the face. I gasped and stepped back in shock, tears falling from my face.

"Don't back talk me, boy. You're gonna start crying now? Fucking faggot."

"I-I-I... I'm trying. Honest."

"I am so fucking sick of you. You can't fucking do anything right. But I'll bet you know how to suck cock, don't you? Yeah. You're gonna suck my cock right now, bitch."

Mr. Boothe grabbed the back of my hair and pulled. I yelped in pain, trying to grab at his arm. He yanked me down to my knees, holding me in place while he undid his pants with the other hand.

"Mr. Boothe, please," I begged and cried. "You're hurting me!"

He pulled out his hard dick. He was about 5 inches long and pretty thick. I gasped and tried to back away.

"No, I don't want to!" I cried.

"You'll fucking do it if you want to keep your job," he spat.

An evil grin spread across his face and he added in quiet menacing voice, "And don't even think of telling anyone. No one will believe you if you try to tell."

He gripped my head tight and rubbed his dripping cock all over my face. I tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip on my hair and I cried out. He shoved his cock into my mouth and grabbed my head with both of his hands and mercilessly pumped in and out of my mouth.

"Suck it, bitch!"

Tears ran down my cheeks as I did as he asked. I steadied myself with my hands on his thighs and I sucked him. A few minutes later he was grunting and groaning.

"I'm gonna fucking come in your mouth, cocksucker! Ah, fuck!"

He grabbed my head and held tight as he spurt a huge load of come into my mouth. I choked and had no choice but to swallow it, though some of it dripped down onto my chin.

When he finished, he roughly pushed me away, knocking me flat onto my back. He looked down at me with a smirk as he put himself away and zipped up his pants.

"Well, at least now I know you're actually good at something. But I don't think I can put that on your performance review," he chuckled. "Now get the fuck out of here."

I choked back a sob and got up and ran out of the office to the bathroom. I washed my face and then grabbed my jacket and hurried down to the bus stop. It was a cold spring day in April and it was raining of course. I stood in the cold rain, huddling my arms around myself. At least with the rain pouring down on my head, it would disguise the tears that poured from my eyes.

When the bus arrived at my stop, I quickly walked down the block to my tiny apartment. I lived in the old downtown area. My apartment was one of the two small apartments above an old Italian deli. The deli owner was also my landlord. He didn't seem to like me very much. Or maybe he was just crabby. I don't know. I didn't care. It was about the only place I could afford on what I made at work and it was close to the bus route.

***

If I was scared and nervous around Mr. Boothe before, I was absolutely terrified of him now. I would scurry out of his way when he came near. When he spoke, I would practically jump out of my skin.

I kept to myself even more after that, not wanting to draw any attention to myself.

He seemed to be ignoring me for the most part, and I was glad for that. He would still yell and berate me daily, but he didn't make any physical moves towards me.

Until about a week later. He had been on the phone all morning arguing loudly with his wife and lawyers about the divorce.

Towards the end of the day, I got a call for an emergency inventory transfer. I printed out the pack list and the order and headed back to the trucker's lounge. I was happy to get the break and get up from my desk and walk around.

I stepped into the lounge and gave the paperwork to one of the truckers.

I was explaining to him that it needed to go to their warehouse before the end of the day, when Mr. Boothe stomped in. He glared at me. "Benji! My office. Now!"

The truckers started snickering. I saw the hungry look in Mr. Boothe's eyes and I started shaking. He stormed over to me and grabbed me by the arm and jerked me and pushed me towards the door.

"I said fucking now," he grumbled.

I caught Big Ben's eyes as I hurried past. He furrowed his brow and frowned and I quickly looked away.

Mr. Boothe shut the door to his office and locked it after pushing me inside. I backed away from him into the corner. He walked up to me, unzipping his pants. He grabbed my shoulders and squeezed hard, pushing me to my knees.

"On your knees, bitch," he husked. "You know what to do."

I hesitated and he lifted his hand like he was going to hit me.

"Open your fucking mouth!" he growled through closed teeth.

I closed my eyes and opened my mouth as he shoved his hard cock into me. I wanted to get it over with as quick as possible, so I sucked hard and started moving my head. He grabbed my head and quietly grunted as he held my head tight and fucked my mouth until he came. Only after I swallowed did he let go.

"Get the fuck out," he said as he stepped back and put himself away.

I scrambled to my feet and wiped my mouth with my sleeve and ran to the door. I tried to open the door, but it wouldn't turn or open.

"It's fucking locked," Mr. Boothe grumbled. "Jesus Christ, are you fucking retarded?"

I unlocked the door and hurried to the bathroom and shut myself into a stall and quietly sobbed. After I got myself under control, I rinsed my face in the sink. My eyes were bloodshot and my cheeks were red and I looked awful. I dried my face with a paper towel, then blew my nose. As I pushed open the door to the bathroom, I bumped into Ben.

He grabbed my arm with his meaty paw and I flinched. I couldn't look him in the face.

"You okay?" he asked quietly. "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," I replied hoarsely and hurried back to my desk.

I sat at my desk on the verge of tears for the rest of the day. I kept my eye on the clock praying for 4:30 to come around so that I could go home and crawl into bed.

***

The next Monday at lunch, I sat quietly at my table in the back. It was just after payday, so over the weekend I was able to buy some bologna and cheese slices, as well as a bunch of bananas.

I slowly ate my sandwich, while praying that Mr. Boothe would leave me alone for the rest of the day. I heard him arguing with his wife on the phone about the divorce and I knew he would be in a really grumpy mood. The thought of him wanting me to... service... him again brought tears to my eyes.

I looked up and saw Ben watching me as he ate what looked to be leftover stew out of a tupperware container. I looked down at my sandwich and finished the last bite. I peeled back the banana and was eating it when I heard from the next table.

"Carl. Check out Benji," Chuck laughed.

"Hey, Benji," Carl shouted. "When you're done going down on that banana, I got something bigger here for ya."

Carl grabbed his crotch and squeezed it a couple times. Carl, Chuck and all of the other truckers started laughing at me. My lower lip quivered and I tried to hold in the tears. I hated that I was such a wimp, that I let him get to me like that.

I heard a chair push back and looked up to see Ben walk over to Carl and punch him across the jaw, knocking Carl onto the floor.

Carl looked up at him, rubbing his jaw. "What the fuck, man!"

Ben stood over him and growled, "Pick on someone your own size, or better yet, just keep your fucking mouth shut."

Everyone stared with jaws dropped to the floor. Ben calmly turned around and sat back down at his table. Carl got up and looked around. No one made a move to back him up or help him. They just stared at him. He spat blood on the floor, wiped his chin, then stormed out of the break room.

I looked over at Ben and gave him a shy smile. He gave me a shy smile back, then returned to eating his lunch.

I watched him for another moment. When he had smiled at me just now, he wasn't so bad looking. I don't recall ever seeing him actually smile before. I also noticed for the first time that his eyes were a bright green. His eyes cut over at me and he caught me looking. I blushed and looked down.

That afternoon, he came by my desk to get his next assignment. Ben was one of the very few truckers that did our occasional long hauls.

I gave Ben his paperwork and smiled at him. "Thanks, Ben... For what you did earlier."

I received a shock when he actually smiled back at me.

"You're welcome, Benji," he said. "If any of these guys gives you trouble, you let me know."

Yes, he wasn't so bad looking when he smiled. I watched him walk down the hall away from my desk, his cowboy boots clunking loudly on the floor. He had a nice bubble butt in his tight jeans. As he turned the corner, I saw his head turning back towards me and I quickly looked away before he could catch me.

***

Ben wouldn't be back in the office until Friday afternoon and I was a little bit worried that Carl would try to get back at me at lunch time. Luckily, no one bothered me the rest of the week. They ignored me like usual.

As 4:30 approached Friday afternoon, I was getting ready to go home, when Mr. Boothe walked up to my desk. "You're working late tonight," he growled quietly.

"P-p-please, Mr. Boothe... I don't--"

He cut me off with an angry finger in my face, then turned around and walked back into his office.

I sat at my desk shaking in fear. I wanted to get up and run out, but I needed my job. I knew I wouldn't be able to find anything that paid as well, not without a college degree. I was barely getting by as it was. I thought about telling someone what he did to me, but I didn't want everyone to know. The thought of the police and an investigation made me physically sick to my stomach.

By 4:45, everyone was gone home for the weekend.

"Get in here, boy!" Boothe yelled from his office.

I walked into the office and he told me to shut the door and lock it. I stood at the door shaking on the verge of bursting into tears.

"Get over here," he demanded.

I reluctantly walked over to his desk. When he stood up, his pants were already undone and his hard-on was already out. There was a straight porn mag on the desk flipped open to a buff guy fucking a girl up the butt. He opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out a tube of KY and a condom. I gasped and looked at him with pure terror on my face.

I shook my head, "No, please, Mr. Boothe."

He grabbed my arm and pulled me behind his desk.

"No, I won't do it!"

He hauled back and slapped me hard across the face so hard it stunned me. He slapped me again, then bent me over the desk. Papers spilled all over the floor as he yanked my pants down and exposed my butt to him.

"No, please, I'll suck it for you. I promise I'll do it good," I quietly begged with tears running down my face.

"Shut the fuck up, you little faggot. I need to fuck. This is the only thing you're good for and you're gonna give it up if you wanna keep your job."

Mr. Boothe tore open the condom wrapper, then smeared the cold jelly onto my butt crack and I started sobbing.

"Yeah, boy, I like to hear you cry and beg."

"No, please don't do this."

I tried to struggle and get away from him, but he held me down with one hand while I heard the other slicking up his hard cock with the jelly.

"No!" I cried out. I tried to reach back and hit or kick him, but I couldn't make contact. He yanked my hair and pulled my head back towards him. He smacked my face, then the back of my head.

With a grunt, he shoved his dick all the way into me. I screamed in pain. He grabbed a rag from his desk and shoved it into my mouth. I wailed and sobbed into the rag as he ravaged my ass.

"You're so fucking tight," he grunted. "You're gonna make me come."

Fortunately, he didn't last very long. He suddenly pulled out and pushed me to the floor onto my knees. He pulled the condom off and tossed it aside. He gripped the hair on the top of my head with his left hand as his right hand flew up and down his slickened shaft. With a loud roar, he jerked my head back and shoved his bone into my mouth as he exploded. I coughed and gagged as the first blast hit the back of my throat.

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