Friday, May 23, 2014

Top Bear

Top Bear



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!

1 comment:

  1. Those pipe-swinging dip$%^&s learned the hard way:NEVER enrage a bear,by attacking his mate!