I’ve had a few strokes of bad luck lately. Out of a 20-year long-term relationship. Almost bankrupt with no marketable job skills. A few thousand dollars in debt. In my small town in Kansas, there aren’t many job opportunities. I live fairly close to the interstate and there are a few fast food restaurants.

I managed to get a part-time job for about 15 hours a week, which is embarrassing enough at my age. All my coworkers are much younger with their future ahead of them, and I’m here because I’m desperate for a job. Everyone’s nice enough but it’s barely enough to make ends meet. I live in a small house with three asshole roommates (more on that another time) so my rent isn’t too bad, but I’m in a pretty bad situation.

Some new hotshot manager gets brought in from some other location. Pretty sure he knows the owner somehow. He’s this 19 year old kid named Lance, skinny as all fuck, maybe 6’3” and about 150 lbs, blue eyes and blond hair. He lets us know right away he’s the boss. Bratty look, tries dress nice but he looks silly in clothes that are too big for him.

He pulls us into his office one by one to tell us how things are gonna be. Better cleaning. Faster service. Hotter food. Nothing wrong with all this, it’s just the manner in which he talks to us. Says things like “I know better than all of you, I’ve been doing this for a few years kind of bullshit.” Dude, it’s McDonald’s. It’s not rocket science.

He has to feel smart all the time. We all want shifts, we don’t want trouble, my co-workers and me.

My turn for the office. He closes the door. “Kevin,” he says. “Says here you’re 49?” He laughs a bit. “What the fuck are you doing working here?”

“Well, Lance—“

“You can call me Mr. Preston.”

I pause. This kid has to be kidding. Really? But I need shifts, so… “Yes Mr. Preston.”

Lance continues, “Says here you are on the schedule for 15 hours a week right? How do you afford to live on that? These other kids all live with their parents, but you support yourself right?”

I flush and stammer, “It’s hard. I get by just barely, Mr. Preston. Truth be told it’s hard.” I wondered where this was going, but maybe he’d help me out somehow? Part of me was completely humiliated, talking to a kid 30 years younger than me but he also decided whether I’d have a job or not, so I tried to be nice.

“Seems like you could probably use some more shifts?”

“Yes, yes Lance.” He looked at me quizzically. “Sorry Mr. Preston.”

“Look, Kevin. I’m a nice guy. Maybe we can work something out. You seem to respect my place…hm, what if you let me fuck you up the ass once a week in exchange for a new schedule of 30 hours a week?”

My mouth gaped. I couldn’t believe it. My face went dark purple. I was so angry that he’d suggest this. Yes, I’m gay. No, I’m not attracted to 19 year olds. This is illegal! Why would he want to anyway? Judging by his face, it’s some kind of power trip?

“Look, I just feel like it could be fun to put an older loser like you in your place sometimes. You’re 49, way older than you should be to work here. You’re desperate for food money though right? Can you afford to say no?”

I looked him in the eye and down to the ground. I started to cry a bit but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction really. I turned away from him, thinking how much I hated him. But he was right. I was desperate. I needed the money

“I—I uh,”

“You what?” Lance laughed. “All you gotta let me do is dump a quick load of cum in your ass maybe once a week. In return you get to make a decent living!”

Lance looked at me with pity. There wasn’t a sexual look, it was a power thing for him. He must’ve known how humiliating it would be to take his load weekly so I could survive better. For all I knew, he was straight and just wanted to make sure I knew he was boss. But doubling my shifts would mean a bit more food in my cupboard, maybe more clothes in my closet.

“Ok,” I muttered. “Let’s do this.”

“Excuse me? Maybe be a bit more polite,” he said, but he was unbuckling his belt.”

“Yes Mr. Preston I’d like that very much.” I decided to play his game. “Are we doing this here and now?”

“That’s right Kevin. Pull down your pants and bend over my desk.”

I blushed. I didn’t think it would be now. The desk was tiny but it would do. With a sigh, I undid my belt and pulled them down to my ankles. I looked back as Lance opened his fly and whipped out his massive cock. It must’ve been 8 full inches, and super thick. He wasn’t taking his pants off, it seemed. He was smiling as he directed me to bed over the edge. He spat on his cock. That was all the lube I was getting, I guess.

“Alright Kevin, here we go. No foreplay. We’re getting right down to business. Take a deep breath.”

This skinny 19 year old had a massive cock and he seemed intent on shoving it up my 49 year old ass. I was pretty average weight but a little taller; 6’6” and 200 lbs. He spit a lot on his cock thankfully, but I definitely felt it as he lined it up against my ass and gently started to penetrate me.

“That’s it you old faggot. Take your boss’s cock. Enjoy it.” My cock got so hard. It betrayed me. I wasn’t enjoying it, was I? My prostate was getting pressure beyond anything I’d ever felt. He pushed in slowly but surely. Not stopping, but not going too fast either. I felt an enormous pressure on my prostate. Wait, was I going to cum? This guy was thick…was he going to push the cum right out of me? I didn’t want this but—all of a sudden my cock was spraying cum like a geyser within 30 seconds of him entering me. My pants were soaked. I was throbbing but he’d barely started. He didn’t care about my orgasm; he wasn’t going to stop!

“Jesus, fag, did you just cum from me pushing my dick in you? That’s hilarious! I’m still gonna fuck you though. Don’t think I’m stopping before I nut. And I won’t be pulling out.”

My manager had already given me a prostate orgasm but I was still gonna get fucked hard. He was now fully inside my ass, his cock balls deep. He was ramming me against his deck. I could smell his bad breath. He was an animal, claiming his prey without full consent. He just rammed and poked. He fucked me hard. He was putting his power over me; this wasn’t romantic sex. This was him claiming superiority.

Luckily it didn’t take him long to cum. He grunted a bit. Slapped my ass. As he started to unload, he said “take my cum you old queer. Take my load so that you can afford enough to eat.

He released. He orgasmed in my ass. He held still a minute then pulled it out. He wiped it on my shirt. Gross.

“Get back to work. You’ll see an adjusted schedule posted tomorrow.”

“Thank you Mr. Preston. It really means a lot to me.”

I walked out with my dirty McDonald’s uniform and started cleaning up the back room. I hoped nobody would smell the cum smell or see my uniform was stained. I was utterly humiliated but at least I’d eat decently this month?