Bear Shorts #3
(This is a work of fiction, and no real persons or events are depicted. Safe sex practices are not depicted; but in real life, get tested and always play safe.)
(Copyright 2014, all rights reserved. No part may be reproduced electronically or otherwise without the author's express permission)
Like many bears, I have sleep apnea. And like many of those bears, I use a cpap machine when I sleep. I will be forever grateful for the existence of such machines. Mine has given me back my life.
It used to be that I didn't dream. Now, I know that everyone dreams, so I believed that I really was dreaming, just not remembering the dreams. Maybe a psychological block to remembering the dreams, or some sort of internal censor. At my sleep study, it turned that I was in REM sleep for less than one minute all night. So, I really wasn't dreaming, after all. Post-cpap, I now have all sorts of dreams, some quite vivid. I will often remember two or three from the previous night's sleep. Some of the dreams are quite enjoyable, some more troubling. Guess which kind the one I am going to tell you about is.
I am alone in a dark room, on a bed. There is a thin pillow under my head. Both my legs are tied to the bed at my ankles, and one arm is tied to something above my head, out of my sight. My other arm is free. I can barely make out a closed door across from the foot of the bed. I seem to be less troubled about this than I should be, and part of me wonders about that.
The minutes slowly tick by. There is no clock that I can see, so how long a space of time has past I cannot say with certainty. Minutes, maybe hours. I raise my head slightly and look down my torso. The thick fur on my chest and belly can barely be made out in the dark. I am aware that I cannot see my cock because of the swell of my belly. I'm not especially fat, but I do have a classic bear body, so this is not a surprise. I reach down with my free hand to fumble for my penis. The thick tube is there, it feels normal; in fact, it feels good and I start to get a bit of a chubby.
Suddenly, the door opens. Silhouetted against the light coming in from behind him, a large man enters. The light helps me see things more clearly, but at first it dazzles me. As my eyes adjust, I can tell this man is a bear, a very large one. Tall, a thick black or very dark brown beard, wide shoulders, a ball belly, thick thighs. A pelt of fur, from under his jaw at least to his knees, I cannot see further than that. He is smoking a cigar. His cock is thick but short, and appears at half staff. I know that he is not erecting, but rather that the shortness of his cock is actually resting on the bulk of his hefty balls, making it look as if he is getting hard.
I somehow have the feeling that he left my one arm free, not out of any sense of mercy, but simply because he did not have enough rope to tie me completely earlier. In his left hand, I see a coiled length of rope. He proceeds to carefully put his cigar down and then tie my free left hand in the same manner as my right. I am now spread-eagled on the bed. He takes the cigar up from the ash tray on the (table? stool? whatever, it is out of my field of vision) next to the bed and puffs on it. The smell is quite pleasant to me. The smell of a burning cigar has pleasant associations for me, and those come to mind now instead of the fact that I am now unable to move.
An idle thought crosses my mind. Why did I not try to untie myself and escape when I had one hand and arm free? I have no idea.
Suddenly, I feel warm wetness on my cock. I can feel his tongue lapping at my rapidly erecting meat. He is leaning over my crotch, cigar in one hand. With my cock now wet with his saliva, he puts the cigar back in his mouth, draws a mouth-full of smoke, takes it out, and then purses his lips and blows a long stream of smoke on my wet meat. The door is still open and the light now makes everything a bit clearer to me. My captor is not conventionally handsome, but he is attractive to me in a 'brute-cute' way. He looks towards me and smiles and puts the cigar back in his mouth.
He rubs his ample belly with one hand. I can see that there is a lot of fur on the back of his hand, and that his arms are equally furry. I suddenly realize that he is naked. In the skewed logic of dreams, the fact that I am only now noticing this seems perfectly normal to me. He reaches one hand down and plays with my cock some, then gently squeezes my balls. He applies steady pressure until I wince. He backs off. He returns to my cock and begins to slowly jack me with one hand. While doing this, he uses his other hand to remove the cigar again, carefully placing it in the ash tray. Then he begins to jack himself in time with what his other hand is doing to me.
I cannot help myself. I am aroused by the cigar smell, the bearish body and fur of my captor, and the strong grip he has on my penis. I am now hard, and on one upward stroke, he applies some squeezing pressure and a fat blob of precum flows out of my tip and down the side of my cock. This makes his stroking easier, and enhances the sensation I am getting as well. It is obvious that he is aroused, too. His cock is still quite thick and only a little longer, but is higher in angle now, no longer resting on his balls in their sack.
He stops jacking himself and takes another puff on his cigar. He slows the stroking of my cock and smiles. He reaches up and scritches my belly fur and makes a sort of purring sound. Suddenly, he gets up on the bed and straddles me, his legs over mine, and scoots himself forward and sits down. My straining cock is right behind his butt, pressed against his butt crack, pressing tight vertically against it. He smiles again, flexes his butt muscles and once more begins jacking himself.
His breath becomes more and more ragged as he drives towards his climax. His cock is pointed upwards towards my head and I can see that precum has slicked his hand, and glistens on the tip and shaft of his thick meat. His hefty ball sack is snugged tight, the orbs inside pushed tight against the skin. His ball belly makes a shade shadow over his cock and my belly. Moments before he is going to shoot, he throws his head upwards, away from my face, but I can still see that his eyes are rolling back in his head, more and more white showing and less pupil.
He gives a heavy grunt and his body jerks as he fires his first volley. The heavy, thick, shining white spurt arcs up and over me and splats against the wall behind me. The second arcs up and lands on my forehead, the third hits both my mouth and my beard. The last heavy shot lands mid-chest. The last of his cum flows out of his cockslit in slow pulses. He grins, takes the cigar out and reaches down and rubs his jizz all over my belly and chest.
He reaches over to the side and grabs a bottle of lube and, still puffing the cigar, he reaches back behind himself and coats my rigid cock with the slippery stuff, and raises himself. He drops the lube on the bed and guides me into him with his hand. He struggles a bit to center me, but of course, I can't help him, which I badly want to. Finally satisfied with my position, he slowly lowers himself on my pole. I can feel the tightness of his pucker slowly ease, and the sensation at my tip is one of pressure and heat. I feel myself slowly enter him, the tip forcing it's way in, but not by my doing. He is controlling this, setting the pace. I feel the ridge slowly, ever so slowly be compressed by his muscle ring, then enter into the heat of his rectum. The oozing slide continues, as more and more of me is in him. There is friction and heat, pressure and pleasure as I go in deeper. I can feel the lump of his prostate as my tip rubs it on the inward travel. Finally, he bottoms out, his butt firmly against my pubes. He gives my cock a squeeze with his ass, then slowly rises, reversing all the sensation of the downward movement of a few moments ago.
He continues this slow teasing of himself and me, a kind of up and down pumping that has me on the edge of shooting for what seems like hours. He seems to be able to easily gauge how close I am and backs off whenever I am about to shoot. Finally, though, on one downward stroke, he misjudges. He presses down to drive me in a deep as he can, as he has done a couple of times already. But this time, I explode into him. I feel the cum boil up from my balls, up, up along my shaft and then, propelled by a buck and contraction, out into his eager ass. I pant and gasp and shout as I pump squirt after unseen squirt deep into him.
He stays on me, impaled, for a bit; how long I can't be sure. He raises off me, grins, and puts his cigar down in the ash tray. I am utterly drained, immobile, flaccid. He unties my hands and feet, but I do not, cannot, move. He winks, picks up his cigar and puts it in his mouth, puffs, and moves toward the door, his own stubby, thick cock still extended. I think to myself that the thickness of the cigar matches perfectly the thickness of his cock. He walks to the door, his cock bouncing with each step. He pauses at the door, looks back, and winks at me. He closes the door. I can hear the sound of a key in the door, and then I awake.
So you tell me... enjoyable, or ominous?