Top Bear
By
UrsusMajr
This
is a work of fiction that involves consensual sex between adult
males. If such offends you or if it is illegal for you to read such
subject matter, leave now. No actual events or real people are
portrayed. Safe sexual practices are not used but remember, this is
fiction. In real life, get tested and play safe.
Copyright,
2008. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced
by any means, electronic or otherwise, without express permission of
the author.
No,
no... not at all. Thanks, I'm good. Yes, I brought the forms with
me, they're signed. Release form and the disclaimer, right? Oh, and
it's just 'Craig'. I never use my middle name. For the record, eh? Oh, 6 foot even, 235 pounds. Identify as a bear. Employed,
computer systems management. Boringly average. Seriously, I'm not
exactly sure what I can add to all this. I'm glad you're doing an
article on couples and all, but really... we're nothing special.
Just average.
Ah,
I see. Well, average we are! I kinda thought you would be looking
for more, how to say it.... more 'unusual' subjects. Is that the
right word? I don't know.
Where
would you like me to start? No, that's fine, but I guess I do
feel a little awkward, talking about just myself. You sure? OK...
well, here goes.
Hmmm...
I was one of those guys who liked sports. I was good at most of
them, but I really loved football. I even did track a couple of
years in high school. Played football and wrestled some in college.
I was good enough to have a football scholarship, but not good enough
to go pro. I almost got a tryout with the Chargers, but they
canceled, said they had a full roster. Earlier, I guess I thought I
might be able to go pro, but looking back on it, I never would have
made it in the leagues. By then, I knew about myself and I wouldn't
have been willing to play the game... I mean the 'game' of being
quiet and hiding everything, always being on guard, looking over your
shoulder, watching everything you said or did, in the locker room and
out.
I
did pretty good in school, and when I graduated, I had two solid job
offers; one local and one back east. Either one would have been
good, but my parents didn't take my coming out very well. No one in
the family did. I figured that I might do better by making a clean
break, so I took the job in Pennsylvania. Back then, software design
and systems integration was a totally new field. Well, it was '81...
PC's were just on the market. No one really knew just where the
boundaries were, so it was easy to grow with a new company. SysDyne
was really open to new things and new ways. They sort of pioneered
integrating order systems and inventory systems with point-of-sale...
is this too technical? Sorry!
Anyway,
I moved back east and started to make some new friends. You know,
guys who shared my interests and who were also gay. I thought
everyone would be geeks, that's the way it had been in college, for
the most part. There was only one other 'athletic' guy in the
computer department, besides me, I mean. It was funny, you would
never have pegged either one of us as being queer, but I think we
were the only ones in the department! It was slow going at first,
but it turned out that there were some really bearish guys in area
who worked for computer companies or start-ups who liked to play.
I
think I am getting ahead of myself a bit. My first real experience
was with Larry in college. Larry was the other athlete in the
CompSci department, and we both got drunk on our asses one night
during Spring Break my senior year. We hadn't gone anywhere, and
that should have told you something right there. The other guys we
shared the house with had rented a place in the mountains. EVERYone
on campus had headed off somewhere with a date or a group. Not us.
We hung out at the house, threw the Frisbee, went to movies, BBQ'd
hamburgers, watched TV, and drank beer. It was a blast. We knew it
probably was the last time we'd really get to kick back. Once break
was over, we'd have to hit the books hard for finals, and we both had
job interviews and our Senior Projects to finish up and present;
then, the real world. So we really kicked back.
I
think it was Tuesday night. We had been draining a few, and were
getting kind of silly. You know how guys get. It had been a hot
day, and I wanted a shower, and Larry was teasing me about all the
beer I had drunk and how I would flood the shower and not just with
water. I grabbed a towel and started snapping him with it. We
horsed around some, and then he sort of passed out on his bed. I
stripped and headed down the hall to the shower.
I
turned the water on and let the blast help sober me up some. I stood
for the longest time under the shower, letting the water flow over
me. Suddenly, I felt someone behind me. You know how you can feel
something before it actually touches you? Yeah, like that. Before
I had a chance to turn around, I felt two arms circle me and start to
hug. I was wet and soapy, so it was sort of easy for me to turn,
even being hugged like that.
Wait,
I need to tell you about Larry. He was built like a brick shit
house. I mean solid. Thick arms, legs and middle. Hairy chest and
belly. Not really handsome, but 'nice' looking, you know? I'd kind
of wondered about him ever since my sophomore year. We'd roomed
together only the last year, and more than once I thought he was
about to make a pass, but it never happened. I don't know if I
scared him off, or if he was just more careful than he needed to be.
Why
didn't I? You mean let him know, or make a pass of my own? Oh,
hell... a gay college football player? Come on. I still had faint
hopes of a tryout with the NFL. If it got out I was gay, I'd lose
that. The NFL is still homophobic even today, but in the
'80s?
Geez... I mean, what if I was wrong
about Larry? It wasn't worth the risk, or so I thought.
Anyway,
back to the shower. I turned, and damn if it wasn't Larry. Naked,
wet Larry. Larry who was hugging me and getting very close to
kissing me. I knew there wasn't anyone else it could
be, but I was still surprised. No,
not surprised... shocked. It seemed as if time stopped right there.
Mind
you, I'd wanted to do just that for the longest time. You see, I
hadn't done anything except pull my pud in high school. I really
thought that one day, magically, a switch would be thrown and I'd
like girls and get all horny around them and go on dates and make
out, and 'score'. 'Scoring' was a big deal in high school. Really
big. It didn't happen.
When
it didn't happen in college, either, I began to figure some things
out. When you always start to get hard in the locker room and have to
really work at not letting that happen, but you never get hard around
girls, you start to know. And when every wet dream you have involves
guys, and every jerk off fantasy involves the other linebackers or
the tight end, well... So, between my sophomore and junior year, I
did some serious thinking. I decided that I most likely was gay.
And if that was true, that I needed to find out more about that and
that I needed to be careful.
I
drove into San Diego, and checked out a couple of gay bars. Man, I
had no clue. I went on some gossip I'd heard in the locker room.
Hoo boy, was I ever off base! I walked in and turned around and
walked right back out. Talk about flaming queens. If that was
'gay', I wanted no part of it.
But
the hormones kept raging and my cock kept getting hard and my own paw
just wasn't enough. I thought I was going to bust, and I know that
the drinking over break was in part because of that. So when Larry
hugged, I hugged back. And when he kissed, I did too.
Two
big hairy guys, alone in the shower, hugging and kissing. Damn, but
soapy skin feels good! We finally turned the water off, half dried
each other, and almost ran back to his bedroom. I made a dive for
Larry, and we ended up on the bed. We neither of us had done
anything with another guy before, so we were really fumbling, flying
on autopilot. I remember we hugged and hugged, and felt each other's
cocks and asses. He sucked me, and I was so hot I came almost as
soon as his mouth closed on my dick. He pulled back when I shouted
and got a blast right in the face. We both laughed about that, and
that sort of broke the ice in a way. We relaxed with each other
after that.
We
spent the whole rest of the break playing with each other. I must
have swallowed a quart of Larry's spunk.. He didn't get to swallow
all that much of mine, most of it went up his ass. Yep. Later that
first night, we were sprawled on my bed and Larry said, “Wanna
fuck?” I said I guessed so, and he said to get some Vaseline from
his drawer.
Yeah,
I know. But we were ignorant. Who knew? Anyway, that's what they
always said you used in the locker room; if she was tight, use
Vaseline. Anyway, I didn't really know just what to do, but I knew I
wanted it bad. Man, it was like my whole life had been leading up to
putting my cock in Larry's ass. I knew that much at least. I
smeared some on my cock and motioned for him to get on all fours. I
started shove in right away, I thought that's what you did. Larry
about died. He hollered for me to stop, that it was hurting too
much. I did stop, but in a few he said it was OK to try again but to
go slow. I did, and managed to get about half my cock in him.
Yeah.
Kinda big. Not huge, but I guess it really was a lot for a first
timer to take. I've learned to take it real easy. Ya know, foreplay
is a good thing! Eventually, Larry loosened up some and I got to
pump a bit. That felt so great. I don't know if you're a top; if
you are, I don't need to explain how great a feeling it really is,
especially your first time. If you more of a bottom, well... it's
really hard to put into words. It's like every form of release
you've ever known. Crying, screaming, shitting, pissing, cuming, all
at once, combined with a churning ache in your balls that boils up
and out along your shaft; and then the world explodes, and you with
it... sort of like that.
We
made up for lost time those last days of break. Practice does
make perfect. Not that we were perfect, but we were a hell of a lot
better by Sunday night. I don't know if it was because Larry was big
and hairy and my first that I developed a taste for bearish men, but
that sure was my preference. Larry liked playing with my cock and
liked to wake me by sucking on it. Nothing relaxed me quite as much
as fucking his ass like a trooper. And oh, the feel of his warm
furry body in bed! I loved it when he hugged me from behind in bed,
the feel of his hairy chest and belly pressed against my back. I
went from relaxed to hard in about 10 seconds when he did that. The
warm, velvet softness of his tunnel surrounding my cock when I'd
slide in, the soft little grunt he'd give when my tip would stretch
his muscle ring then pop in, well.... good memories! We each learned
a lot from each other. No, it wasn't love; for him or for me. But
we did like each other a lot, and we sure had a
hell of a lot of fun.
Just
before finals, I came out to the girl who was working on her Senior
Project with me. I guess I thought she might be wondering why I
hadn't asked her out all semester. When I told her, she sort of
shrugged and said it didn't bother her, she liked me for 'me', not as
a potential husband, and could we please get this code done so we
could run it through the compiler? Boy... talk about a let-down! I
had worked my courage up for a week to tell her (she would have been
the first person I'd told, besides Larry of course), and here she
says its no big deal. I guess I'd forgotten that some of the rest
of campus had moved beyond the macho jock attitude of the athletic
department and the asshole attitudes of the sports teams.
That
made me a bit too
over confident. On my last weekend home before finals, I came out to
my family. I'll spare you the details... no, I just don't think
its... well, it just wasn't pretty; we'll leave it at that. They
took it badly. Mom cried a lot, dad hollered and yelled. Then they
barely spoke to me. Mom started praying. Dad ignored me. Neither
of them came to graduation.
It
got worse. After graduation, I packed up and drove home, and when I
got there, I found my stuff all boxed up, piled in the middle of what
had been my room. My clothes, my high school sports trophies, all
the framed newspaper articles about league championships and my
scholarship. Dad had done that. I recognized his writing on the
boxes: 'Fag's Clothes', 'Fag's Books', 'Faggot's Odds and Ends'. I
don't know if mom helped, but I noticed that everything had been
cleaned and tidied, windows washed and all. Even the closet was
swept out. It was like I'd never been there. I took the hint.
So
that sort of lets you know why I was eager to take the job with
SysDyne and move all the way across the country. When I got there,
it was like a new beginning. All sorts of possibilities. I started
dating guys, and that's when I found out about bears. The bear
culture was just starting to grow then. Remember that bar I told you
about in San Diego? Well, that had always sort of weighed on me.
Finding out about bears was like, “YES!! At last!!” I joined
the Coal State Bears, they were one of the first bear clubs, 1984 or
'85, I think. I even went to a couple of bear runs. God, fur
everywhere! I'd never seen so many hairy stocky guys; otters, too.
And for the first time, I think, I really felt that my fur was an
asset, something that was desirable. My 'kid in the candy store'
phase didn't last long, though.
Yeah,
work was really good, but there weren't any bears working for SysDyne
then, except me. My social contacts were mostly from the bear club.
You know, its funny. I think that joining that bear club was a good
thing for me, but not in the way you'd think. It DID open me up,
I... No, not that
way! I mean I got to know a variety of people, and learned a lot
about interacting with other gays. The jokes, the catch-phrases, the
cultural references. I also learned what a 'player' was.
I
won't say that all the guys in the club were just out for their next
trick, but sometimes it seemed that way. They did a lot more
'parties-at-a-member's-house' than movie nights at a theater, or
dinners at a local restaurant. Which meant that it nearly always
ended up as a sex party. I guess I was finding out that even though
I was as horny as the next bear, I was looking for something more
than just a butt to munch or a hole to fill. It's great to be liked
because you're a hairy fucker; it's not so great to be wanted only
because you're a hairy fucker.
So
I was sort of idling along, enjoying the company of bears but not
making any headway relationship-wise. I really was beginning to
think that maybe I would have to choose between playing around at the
drop of a belt buckle, or keeping my principles... and keeping them
alone. But it seemed the harder I searched, the less success I had.
I'd resigned myself to not finding 'the one'.
Say,
you know that saying about stopping trying and it will happen? I
think it was applied to women wanting to have babies, but I think
it's true for relationships, too. At least it was for me. All I
know is that after I gave up looking, my hus just sort of appeared.
Love
at first sight? Well, I don't know about that. Not for me, anyway,
but James says it was for him. He knew from the get-go. I've got to
say, I'm glad he did. Know, I mean.
How
did it happen? Its kind of a long story, but I guess this is what
you really are after? Well, once upon a time.... Sorry, just
teasing! Actually, we can thank GM for our getting together. He was
driving this piece of shit Chevy Nova. SysDyne had a new contract
with the city to integrate the clerks stations in City Hall with the
Assessor's database, so tax payments would post automatically. I had
dropped off some training manuals for the new system, and came out to
the parking lot. There was this cute little pocket bear kicking the
hell out of this rusty old Nova. Apparently this was the second time
that day it had failed to start. He was really steamed! And it was
cold; I mean freezing, literally. He really wasn't dressed for the
weather, and it looked like snow.
So
I'm feeling good, helpful and all; and I walk over and ask if I can
help. He's so intent on punishing that car that he doesn't hear me
at first. I tapped him on the shoulder, and he whirls around and
hollers, “What?!” I backed up in a hurry, and fell on my butt on
the ice.
He
looked all embarrassed and reached a hand down to help me up,
apologizing non-stop. I took his hand, and saw right away that he
was strong. He might have been short, but he was powerful. He
pulled me up, and I offered again to help. He thanked me, and I
started checking a few things. It was obvious that there more than a
few things wrong. Spark plug wires were all cracked and the boots
were half rotted away. The air filter was solidly clogged. The
battery had white flaky crud all over it. I ducked back out from
under the hood and walked to my truck and drove it over next to his
heap. I ran jumpers and we tried firing it up, and it did run,
finally... for a few seconds. It belched thick blue smoke and
farted, then died. By then, his battery was well and truly dead, and
there was a thin trail of smoke coming from somewhere in the engine.
I
told him to get in the truck before he froze. He climbed in and I
got in on the driver's side. We introduced ourselves and I took a
closer look. He was a cute lil' fireplug, stocky, obviously strong.
I like 'em furry, and he looked like he would be. There was a thick
ring of fur showing all around the collar of his sweatshirt, front,
back, and sides. A nice bulge in his jeans looked promising, too. I
asked if he had anything in the car he needed, and he said just a bag
in the trunk. His teeth were chattering so much it was hard to tell
what he said.
“No,
I'll get it, you're already half froze,” I said. I got out and he
stuck his head out the window, telling me the trunk wasn't locked. I
walked over, opened it, and took out the bag, and saw a pile of
magazines under it and an old tire jack. Porn. Gay porn. Hairy gay
porn. I stuffed the mags in the bag, smiled, and closed the trunk.
I
slung the bag in the back and climbed back in the truck cab. I
rammed the heat up to high and drove off. I told him I had a friend
with a tow truck who could come and pick up the car the next morning
so he wouldn't get a ticket. “Where do you want it towed?” “The
junk yard!” he replied, saying he was tired of sinking money into a
losing cause.
I
told him I could run him back to his place, wherever that was, but
his teeth were still chattering in spite of the heater; so I
suggested that he at least come inside my place and get some hot
coffee into him before he went home. “I'm just two blocks from
here.” He nodded and I drove to my place.
Now,
I knew there was a real good chance he was gay from the porn in the
trunk, but I wanted to take it slow. We got to my place, we went in,
and I made coffee and offered a slug of brandy to go with it. He
accepted gratefully. While he was using the bathroom, I made sure a
sketch of a beefy hairy naked guy was visible in the pile of papers
on my dining room table. When he returned, I saw him do a double
take when he saw it, and a bit of a smile. I walked over to him and
asked if he like it. He nodded. “A buddy did that for me, knowing
my tastes in men. I'm going to frame it. You like bears?”
“Oh
yeah,” he said; and that sort of got things rolling. We sat and
talked while he warmed up, and continued to talk after he was warm
about, well, just about everything. Life, discovering we were gay,
school, coming out, relationships. We ended up going out to dinner.
I dropped him off at his place after and he hugged me tight and said
he wanted to see me again.
Well,
we dated pretty steady for a month or so, and I decided to take a
chance and ask him to go with me for the weekend to a local resort.
Mind you, he always says that he was ready that first night, but that
I was like the tortoise in that fable about the tortoise and the
hare. Slow and steady. Anyway, I asked him and he said yes and we
fixed up the details. We called each other every day, discussing
what he should bring, and how we were both looking forward to this.
We both arranged to get off work at noon that Friday, and I picked
him up in the parking lot.
On
the way there, we talked about some things we hadn't talked about
before. He's had more experiences than me, sexually. He said he'd
hesitated to mention them before, since he assumed that I was maybe a
bit of a prude, or at least 'conservative', based on my lack of them
and general non-aggressive dating stance. I guess I had been too
'tortoise -like'! I vowed to change his mind about that during the
weekend.
We
got checked in wandered around the place for a bit. Our cabin was
very nice, all rock and wood. Nice big fireplace, well-stocked
kitchenette and a very comfy-looking king size bed. The grounds were
not at all bad, even for early winter. Lots of pines and nice walks,
and a great overlook of the river. If it had been early fall, the
leaves would have been spectacular, but even in winter the views were
impressive. The main lodge had a roaring fire going, and we relaxed
there after a long hand-in-hand walk. What we hadn't noticed was
that we had been sort of followed by a couple of guys on that walk.
We each had a big mug of hot chocolate by the fire, and discussed the
evening's plans. He wanted to stay in, but I wanted to go out to a
nice steak house I'd seen on the drive in earlier. I had a craving
for meat, and the lodge menu seemed heavy on fish, chicken and pasta.
We argued a bit, but in the end, he gave way, and we headed back to
our cabin and changed clothes.
We
took the truck since it was a bit far to walk. I failed to notice
the car that shadowed us to the restaurant, or the two men who got
out of the car as we were parking. The restaurant was busy, and the
main parking area was full, so we had pulled around to a smaller area
behind and somewhat below the back of the building, an area that was
out of sight of the main road. and not well lit. We had just closed
doors when I heard a gravelly voice say, “Well, look at the
faggots, all dressed up for a night on the town.” I turned and saw
there were two of them, both big, and both with a length of pipe in
their mitts. Now, I'm not small, and I figured they would go for the
smaller guy first. I yelled for James to run inside and call the
cops, and I moved toward the nearer thug, hoping to create enough
distraction to give him time to get a head start. By this time, I
had backed up and around my truck to get a bit more open space around
me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that my little pocket bear
had done the same and that instead of doing the sensible thing and
making tracks for the restaurant and a phone, we were nearly back to
back. “Dammit, RUN!” I growled.
“Not
a chance.” he said to me, and then faced the two. “You wanna
fuck with us?”
“Aww,
look at the little fairy! He's all brave and cocky.” The thug
tapped the pipe in the palm on one hand. “We don't like your kind
here, fag. We make sure our town's safe for decent people. Queers
get the message here real fast.” He stepped forward and shifted
the pipe to his other hand. His buddy had moved closer, too. I saw
what looked like cement in one end of the pipe he was holding, so
they were probably filled with the stuff. One swing would break
bones for sure. No way this was going to turn out well.
I
knew I had to act fast if I was to have any hope of getting the first
blow in. I lunged for the thug nearest to me, tackling him around
the legs and toppling him to the ground. My bear did something
similar. I heard James yell, and then I heard the sickening thud of
pipe meeting flesh and bone. That sound set me off. My thug has
lost his pipe when he hit the ground; I don't think he really
expected a fit, muscled guy when he was making his threats. Shows
you what stereotypes will do for you. The fucker struggled, but I
was angry; really angry. And it turned out that my fists did quite
enough damage, even without the advantage of a lead pipe.
My
thug tried to crawl away, spitting teeth. I got up and hustled over
to when my little pocket bear was lying, stunned, in a pool of blood.
My vision went red and I landed on the back of the asshole as he
raised his arm, pipe in hand, to give another blow. I grabbed his
arm and yanked back and heard a satisfying snap of bone along with an
anguished shriek of pain. I shoved the thug up against the truck and
landed a hard punch to his gut that doubled him over, and left him
alternately gasping for air and vomiting, with one arm hanging
useless.
I
went over and knelt by my wounded bear. It was then I saw the gun
lying on the ground, near where his attacker was now staggering off,
retching. I lifted him and got him in my arms. I told you he is
short and solid. I picked him up, but damn he was heavy. I
staggered with him towards the front of the restaurant, covered with
his blood and more than a bit of my own. Some people were coming
out, diners finished with the evening meal. They saw us and one ran
to help me, another ran back inside and phoned for an ambulance. I
stood, holding him, refusing to let go until the ambulance arrived.
All the way to hospital I kept repeating, “This never would have
happened if I hadn't insisted on steak for dinner.” The EMT
probably thought I was crazy.
At
the hospital emergency room, it turned out that my bear had a nasty
scalp wound that took 16 stitches to close, a mild concussion, and a
huge purple bruise across his shoulders, but no other serious damage.
His thick shoulders had taken the brunt of the blow. I had cuts and
bruises I didn't realize I had, and had no idea how I got. I had a
swollen hand, purple and sort of greenish; but I remembered very
clearly how I had gotten that.
The
police were called and I gave as good a description of the assholes
as I could and told them about the gun. My bear, bless his brave
heart, was able to add some to that, and remembered that one of the
thugs was wearing an old tee shirt with the slogan “Matthew
Sheppard Died For Your Sins” on it. The cops sort of looked at us
funny after that, and mumbled that they would do their best to find
the guys. Turns out that they crawled or ran off; and they, or
someone, came back later and drove their vehicle away. The cops said
that without witnesses or better descriptions, they were having
'difficulties' finding the perps. Hell, they could have followed the
blood from the guy who's face I'd pulped. If they'd wanted to.
Anyway,
the hospital did x-rays, and kept my bear overnight for observation.
I said I was staying with him. They fussed. I insisted. They
fussed some more. I growled. I stayed. At one point that night
while I was sitting next to his bed, he told me that he'd seen the
gun being drawn, and that was why he made a dive for his attacker.
“I figured your guy might be armed, too, if mine was. If I ran for
the restaurant, he'd have fired, so I went for him and managed to
knock the gun out of his hand. I tried to call out again to warn
you, but he hit me with that damned pipe before I could.”
The
next day, we returned to the resort to pack. The management was very
nice. They had a nice fruit basket in the cabin, and the manager
stopped by to extend their sympathies and offer us dinner on the
house. He canceled our bill, too. As he was leaving, he turned to
us and said, “I'm really sorry about this. Please don't think that
everyone in this town is like this. We're good people here. This
was... wrong. This shouldn't happen, not here.” He paused. “And
I'm going to speak with the police chief.” He closed the door
quietly.
We
decided that we would stay the night and clear out the next day. We
were both kind of tired and sore. I guess I kind of went overboard,
fussing and caring for my bear. Finally he threw up his hands and
told me he wasn't fragile and he wasn't broken, and WHEN was I going
to hug him and hold him and kiss him and fuck him? What I wanted to
say was, “When you are all healed up and stable, not concussed”;
but what I actually did was cradle him in my arms and hug him and
kiss him. And later that night, fuck him.
It
was slow and gentle and easy, and oh, so very erotic. I
worshiped him, did everything I could to give him pleasure and joy.
I made his thick heavy cock spurt, and lapped up every drop of his
seed. I stroked him and held him and curled around him to protect
him from all hurt. And when he begged me to come into him, I was as
gentle and careful as I could possibly be. I felt the warmth of his
skin and fur against me, and heard him whisper, “Oh, bear,” when
my cock slid in. I felt the heat of him surround my cock and travel
up it and flood my gut with a sense of peace and belonging. When I
came, holding him, telling him I loved him and would never leave him
if he would have me, I felt complete. I realized, you see, that my
bear had risked his life so his attacker wouldn't be able to shoot
me. I think he realized, seeing that foul tee shirt, that these guys
meant to kill us, not just hurt us. And I knew in my heart and in
my gut that I had finally found the one I had been looking for and I
cried when he said yes.
So
there you have it. How long? We we've been together for five years
now. We moved in together when we got back, and got rings a couple
of days after that. There was never any question in my mind or his.
It was right, it was meant to be. Well, yes, it would be nice; but
you know, I don't care what the state says, we're married. We are a
union, a couple, a single unit in our eyes and our friends eyes.
That's all that counts.
Oh,
no problem at all, but I have to go now. That's my Fuzzy out there
in that black piece of shit Chevy Cavalier. No, I don't know what's
with him and GM! But that's my pocket bear. Hunky? Oh, my, yes he
is... and there isn't a better or braver or more handsome bear
walking the earth. He's my life.
Got
to go. Good luck with the article. Listen, you've got my number,
call me when it comes out, OK? We'll want to read it. You take care,
now. Bye!
Those pipe-swinging dip$%^&s learned the hard way:NEVER enrage a bear,by attacking his mate!
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