Sunday, August 10, 2014

Bear Shorts #4

Bear Shorts #4



copyright 2014, all rights reserved

Now, there are two comments you do NOT want to hear about your cock... the first is “Oh, it's so CUTE!” This is often said with a smile, or even a squeal of glee, but it is simply not something you want to hear no matter how good-intentioned the person saying may be. The other is simply “Oh.” Not, “OH!” or, “Oooooooh” or even, “Oh?” Just. Plain. Oh. That's a real killer, right up there (maybe even ahead of), “Is it in yet?” Or so I thought...

I had been pretty sheltered as a kid, and had never seen any other male naked. When puberty struck and I discovered this marvelous thing I could do with my cock, I was enthralled. I didn't think much about it in relation to others. With the typical self-centeredness of youth, I thought I was the only one who could do this wonderful thing. I was smart enough to know it wasn't something you went around bragging about, since it involved a part of my anatomy I have been repeatedly cautioned about 'not playing with or I'd go to Hell'. It (meaning both the physical location on my body and the actions I had discovered) could never be discussed, that much at least was plain in my family. With no brothers or sisters, there was no chance for any questioning or comparison. Certainly the rigid disapproval that any question about bodily functions was greeted with was enough to discourage me from asking the parental units. So I hugged my splendid secret to myself and risked blindness and eternal damnation on a regular basis.

From a young age, I knew I was smaller than other guys. I'd seen guys at the city swimming pool, where it was obvious through their wet swimsuits that they had more than I had 'down there'. When I hit junior high, and gym classes began, with their daily showers, reality really hit. For the first time, I saw other males naked. Some had hair around their cocks. Some had a lot. Other had none. I had some, but I also had something which set me apart... body hair. No one else had hair on their bellies and legs and between their nipples. I was fascinated by what I saw, the variety of shapes and sizes. I didn't see any smaller than me, but I sure did see a lot that were larger... some much larger. Even the guys who didn't have any hair yet were bigger than me.

By the time I hit high school, I noticed that all the guys who had been hairless in seventh grade were now proud possessors of crops of hair of differing thickness. Those with small cocks had all grown to varying degrees, and all were large than me. I seemed to be stuck eternally in seventh grade, size-wise. But the body hair continued to sprout, seemingly everywhere.

The teasing had started in junior high. The dank, chlorine-smelling cement aisles echoed with calls of 'ape boy' and 'monkey' and 'freak'. I had never been especially popular in school, with few friends. I was just too weird in my interests and too lacking in the athletic skills a boy was expected to have to attract friends. Not having siblings meant that there was no one at home to play with, or to toughen me up. We always seemed to live in neighborhoods in which I was the only kid my age. I never developed the ability to tease back or to kid, and I was too wimpy physically to be able to fight back. The worst bullies always seemed to be the biggest kids. All that just reinforced my natural tendency to be a loner.

When high school rolled around, I had hoped that there might be a chance. Now school, new people, and at least the possibility that being hairy and needing to shave daily as a freshman would mark me as somehow mature, to be respected. Sadly, I hadn't counted on how seriously I had miscalculated the innate tendency for a pack to go for the weakest.

My social skills were nil. The isolation of the relentless teasing and bullying in elementary and junior high had in some ways permanently altered my behavior responses. I simply wanted to be left alone. I avoided social situations whenever possible, and what that wasn't possible, I tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. In PE, the teasing only got worse, it seemed. Although shaving was a point of pride, excessive body hair was not. So the taunts of 'ape' and 'hairball' continued, accompanied with scorn for my lack of athletic prowess, and success with girls.

That last bit was new. Lack of dates with girls was not commented on in junior high. It was an earlier time, and sub-teens hadn't been hyper-sexualized by pop culture yet. But in high school... well, it became a real hot topic. What I found was that I had become coldly analytical about my own shortcomings and weaknesses, and I realized that I simply wasn't interested in dating, or in girls at all, really. It wasn't that I was shy or awkward around them especially. I was shy and awkward around nearly everyone. I found that I just had zero interest. Now, guys; that was different story. There were times I longed to 'hang around' with other guys, to enjoy the easy camaraderie of the hallway or the lunch room. And I got a real thrill sneaking looks at the other guys' bodies in the locker room, even the ones who were the worst of my tormentors.

I was a bookish kid, and somewhere along the line in high school, I learned about queers. There had been whispers in junior high, but they really had made no impression. But in high school, the favorite put-down of something was, “That's SO gay!” People were 'fags', things and actions were' gay'. So I hit the books. In short order, I discovered a lot about those terms, and myself. The real problem was that, while I fit some of the descriptions, I was woefully out of sync with others. I may have liked books and music and detested sports, but I hated dancing and musical plays. I liked color and art, but I hated shopping for clothes. Most of all, the couple of TV shows I had seen where there was a stereotypical 'gay' character set my teeth on edge. I may not have had any interest in the Superbowl, but I sure wasn't interested in that. Effeminate, limp-wristed lispings left me cold and somehow embarrassed.

So, when I went away to college, I was a stocky, hairy, bookish loner... and horny as hell. Thankfully, there wasn't any PE in college. I had zero talent in sports so there were no locker rooms to contend with. And then one day, it happened. The dorm I was in was an older one, that didn't have suites of rooms with bathrooms between. Instead there were many double rooms with a central hall, and a large shared bathroom in the middle of one side with urinals, stalls, and a large gang shower. Having to pee really bad, I ducked in one evening. For some reason, the door didn't make it's usual squeak when opening, and I heard from the shower area the unmistakable sound of males rutting. I desperately wanted to look, but figured (illogically) that I would likely get a beating for being a fag. So I eased out, but I stationed myself at the pay phone in the hall so I could see the door. I waited to see who came out, and when they did, all wet and toweling off from their shower, I took note of who they were.

A few weeks later, I was taking a shower during the 'prime time'... at least what I called prime time, the time when the showers most often unoccupied, giving me some alone time. I was all soaped up and getting ready to jack when I head the familiar squeak of the door. I immediately turned around so my erect cock wouldn't be seen and began to vigorously shampoo, waiting for my hard-on to subside. I heard the water taps turn and the shower head two down from me begin to hiss. Whoever it was was whistling an aimless tune. Curious, I made what might have been a fatal mistake. I turned slightly, wiping soap from my forehead so I could see who it was. I was Ben, one of the guys I had seen weeks earlier. I was kind of surprised, I thought he had classes at this time, most of the guys did. Apparently, I turned a bit too far.

“Someone's been having fun,” he said with a grin. Obviously I had turned a bit too far. I must have gotten beet red. Ben laughed out loud and tossed the bar of soap to me. “Here, soap my back, I can't reach.” Not knowing what to do, but noticing that 1.) I hadn't been beaten, and 2.) Ben was a bit shorter than me, wide-shouldered, and hairier than I remembered, I caught the soap and did as he asked.

When you soap someone's back for them, you get an up-close look at them. I noticed that he had a very nice dusting of back hair. It was obvious that in a few years, he'd be really hairy, the coverage being nearly complete on his back now, if somewhat fine. He had dark brown hair, so it would show nicely against his lightly-tanned skin. I soaped him up good and when I was done, he turned. Glancing down, I was stunned to see a thick, wet, solid tube of flesh, jutting out from the thicket of hair at his crotch. “My turn,” he said. “Turn around.” I tore my eyes away from his meat and turned. He soaped my back and scrubbed. “Damn, you're a beast!” It took me a moment to realized he was referring to my own back fur, which I knew to be denser and darker than his. “Turn,” he said.

I shook my head, my own stubby erection painfully hard and obvious now. He put soapy hands on my shoulders and turned me anyway. “Fuck me, you are furry!” he breathed. He reached his soapy paw down and gently stroked my cock. “You interested?” Throwing all caution to the winds, I nodded.

Risky? Yes. Oh, my, yes. I knew this was dangerous, I knew I should have just gotten out of there, WHY did these things have to happen? I very badly needed release and was afraid I'd spray all over him right there, before I could get myself out of the shower.  Word would spread, I'd have to leave.... such was the logic of the testosterone-addled brain on overload. I had gone from zero to one-twenty, arousal-wise, in a minute flat. But I nodded anyway, and he slowly began to jack me.

Somehow, I managed not to shoot in 2 seconds, but the feeling was SO intense. I had never in my short life felt another guy's hand on my meat, and I really had no idea that something could feel that good. “I'm gonna shoot!” I managed to croak out before I gushed out a huge load all over his hand and crotch.

“Yeah!” he said, soft-voiced but intense just the same. “You cum big!” There was a pause while I caught my breath. “Well, don't leave me hanging here,” Ben said, leaning in and putting his hands back on my shoulders. “Come on.”

Was another man asking me to jack him off? Really??

 He was.

 I did.

 “Shit, that feels good,” Ben said as he shot all over my hand and belly. As we showered each other's spunk off our bodies, he said, “You're a cute fuck, you know that? Nice and furry, cuddly looking.”

“I'm kinda fat”

“I like furry fat guys. Makes my motor run.”

I nearly dropped the bar of soap. No one had ever said anything remotely like that to me before. No one had ever commented positively on my body or my hairiness before. “Like a teddy bear,” he said. As we reached for our towels, I was overcome with a feeling of intense embarrassment. What to say now? What to do? Say 'thank you'? Just leave? Fortunately, Ben was obviously more experienced than me in these situations. He dried my back, and then said, “Stop by the room Friday. The roomie is going home for the weekend, we can talk. I got beer.” He looked at me waiting for a response. I nodded, now totally at sea. “Sure.”

Walking back to my room, my head was spinning. My first hand job! And from a nice looking guy, and one I knew to be interested in other guys... AND one who had asked me to hang out with him? What was going on? And he never once mentioned my size. I was a lot smaller than him, but he hadn't said a word, not even when he first took my meat in his hand. No, "Oh."

The weekend showed up, I was of two minds. Part of me wanted to believe the invite had been for real, but part of me made me think it really couldn't be. Nothing else had ever panned out socially for me, so why should this? Maybe it was just a trick, to either leave me standing in front of his door, knocking with no answer, or to have some sort of nasty surprise waiting on the other side. But late Saturday morning, Ben passed me in the hall with an armful of books, heading for the library. “Gotta get these back today, how about you drop by after lunch, say, one o'clock?”

So, at one, there I was, knocking. The door opened, there Ben stood, in a pair of boxers and nothing else, his hairy chest and belly looking more beautiful than they had a right to be, some obvious muscle overlaid with a nice soft layer of padding.  “Come on in.”  In a men's dorm, guys walked around in skivvies, or sometimes nothing, without much thought, times that I lived for. I stepped inside and he closed the door. “You wanna beer?”

“Ummm, sure.”

“A bit early, but what the hell,” he said, opening two, one for him and one for me. “So, whatcha been up to?” He plopped down on the bed, leaning up against the wall and motioned for me to sit in the overstuffed chair that was covered by a blanket.

I kept it light and not too detailed. This was really foreign territory for me, but for someone without social skills, I thought I was doing pretty good. I realized much later that Ben was skilled in drawing people out and making them feel comfortable with him. It worked very well on me, and the afternoon passed in a happy haze of beer, talk, and videos. Weekend meals were served earlier than weeknight meals, and when we realized we had missed the evening slop, Ben suggested that we go out for dinner. “Sorry, man, I don't have much money on me,” I said, embarrassed, as Ben pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt.

“No worries. The truck stop over by the freeway has decent food if you like breakfast all day, and it's cheap. Let's go.” So we did, and it was pretty good, and blessedly cheap. I ended up eating many a meal there. After dinner we drove back to the dorm.

We headed back up the steps to the dorm and I expected to say good night and head for my room, but Ben quietly asked, “You wanna stick around? I got a cool video we could watch.” Now, the earlier videos we had watched were some goofy cartoons, so I sort of expected more of the same. They were funny, after all. Imagine my surprise when the video turned out to be porn. Gay porn. Big hairy guy porn. It was every wet dream and fantasy I had had in high school, and there it was on the flickering TV screen, with the shades pulled and the lights off.

“Interested?” Ben asked, as he put a hand on my shoulder.

By this time, we both were down to our shorts, me in tighty-whities, he in boxers. I had had several more beers and I was most definitely interested and much less cautious than I had been. I nodded and we both shed the rest of our clothes. He patted the bed for me to lay next to him. It was sort of crowded, all the dorm beds were singles, but we made do. “I love your fur,” he smiled.

“I haven't done much before. I mean, not with guys. In bed, I mean. Sex. With anyone. ” Oh, stop with the babbling, I told myself. Just shut up!

“S'OK,” Ben said. “We'll go slow and have fun.” The feel of his fur against my skin was intoxicating, and arousing. I could feel the hard velvet heat of his cock pressing against my back and my own meat answered rapidly, straining against his hand as he gripped it, his arm over my side. We jacked each other for a bit, then backed off when he said he didn't want to shoot yet. We rubbed against each other, then turned at his guidance and sixty-nined, another first for me. I was so revved up it didn't last long.

“Ben, I can't hold it, I'm gonna cum,” I said urgently, intending him to pull off before I lost it. He just nodded, said, “S'OK” around my meat in his mouth and kept sucking, I unloaded several volleys in his mouth and he swallowed them all. Suddenly, he tapped my side with his hand, his mouth still clamped on my softening little guy. I took it as a signal that he was about to cum and I wasn't wrong. I swallowed, my first time for that, too. He was kind of strong, almost bitter, but with a salty tang. I wondered how I had tasted.

We broke apart, panting. He reached out and hugged my crotch to his face and gave my nearly vanished cock a lick. “Let's nap for a bit, OK?” At this point, I probably would have done anything he'd asked, including robbing a bank, shooting the college president,  or running naked down the dorm hall.

We dozed for a while, and it occurred to me that I had never actually slept with another person. It was new, it was awkward (single bed, remember?) but it was very satisfying. We must have woken each other up with our stirring. It was pitch dark in the room, and the clock on the desk said 3:06. Ben smiled, and said with what I learned was a characteristic bluntness, “You wanna try fucking?”

I didn't want to disappoint him, not after the time we had had earlier; but I really knew nothing about what would be involved. I could imagine the basics, but I had zero practical experience. Imagination takes you only so far. But I was so turned on by the thought of actually fucking, like the bulky guys in the video, that I nodded assent. “I never have,” I said, still cautious of disappointing.

“S'OK, I'll show you, I bet you'll like it!” The eagerness in his tone was infectious.

“Here, hand me that lube in the drawer..., no, not that, the other bottle, says 'Wet' on it.” I handed the sticky-slippery bottle to him. “Roll over,” he said. I started to roll on my belly but he stopped me. “No, on your back.” I obeyed, not having a clue as to what was next. He squirted a blob of the stuff in his hand and reached behind himself and seemed to be fingering himself. He reached forward and coated my now erect cock, slicking up the short shaft. “Now, let me get on all fours and you mount me. No, you behind me. Just take your time, and push in slow-like. You'll figure out what to do once you're in me.”

“But, I'm too short.. I mean.. I don't think...” I was stumbling over words and my worry about my adequacy was starting to affect my little guy who was starting to soften.

“Nah, don't worry. You're just right. Come on, stroke it and stick it in, man!” He was encouraging me over his shoulder while he wiggled his butt.

I reached down and stroked myself and was hard again in a moment. I scooted in and centered on his ass hole. I recalled every nature program I had ever seen, with animals hunched over each other, mating. I wasn't prepared for the heat of his butt as I pushed into him, but it sure felt great. And he was right, I did know what to do once I got in. Since I had shot not too many hours before, it was easier for me to last, and I had a good five minutes inside Ben before I explode in him, yet another first for me. When I stopped shaking, Ben eased down and told me to come with him and lay on him.

“I'm kinda heavy,” I said, but he insisted, saying it felt good. We lay like that for a while, and then I asked what I needed to know, but was afraid to hear. “Was I OK?”

“Shit yeah... you were fine. You felt great.” He flexed his butt muscles to grip my now-soft cock as it slipped out of him. “Stay.” I did.

We talked some more and I said, “That guy I saw you leave the shower with last month.... David?”

“Yeah. You saw that, huh?”

“Yes. He's a lot bigger than me, bigger than you, too. I just wondered...”

Ben rolled on his side and looked me straight in the eye. “Listen to me.” His slightly beery breath was warm. “Yeah, David is bigger. He hurts, actually. He wants to just plow away and that's good, it's natural, it's what we all want to do.” He paused. “But he hurts. Hell, big is fun to look at and play with, but really – it's supposed to be fun, not an endurance test.” He stopped again, and reached down and cupped my balls. “You know why that was so much fun for me just now?” I shook my head. “Because I could relax and enjoy it and not worry about being split open. I could concentrate on how good it feels and how much fun you were having, and not just on gritting my teeth and wondering if I'd be able to walk afterwards.” He reached out and hugged me close.

“A little hint, man. All the feeling is in the first inch or so of your butt, so when you are going in and out, it's just that part that's getting stimulated. So even if you are kind of short, you still make it feel good. The weight and pressure on you on my backside feels really good, warm and heavy. I love all fours, too; it's like, oh, like being an animal. So don't worry about your size man.... you fit just fine.”

I could have kissed him for that. In fact, I did.

“Now, we should rest a bit, and then next time, I can sit on you, that will drive you in real good!”

I couldn't believe it. Next time.... he said next time! There were, in fact, a lot of 'next times'. I learned a lot from Ben, and I think he even learned stuff from me, by the time we graduated and went our separate ways. We write once or twice a year, have seen each other a couple of times. Each time has been really good.  But what I remember most, what I will always remember, is that if you truly care, and pay attention to yourself, and to your buddy, size really doesn't matter.


  1. Great story and so true.. Bigger is not always better, just needs to be long enough to reach that "magic spot".