Bears, page 16
“Sure, sure. I’ll have a bowl of porridge,” said Lance. Jerry and Daddy Bear grinned.
“So when are we going to get my car fixed?”
Jerry had told Lance that he was an experienced auto mechanic. But now that the warm autumn rain had finally let up, he seemed in no great hurry to drive back to the BMW and get it on the road.
“Chill out. What’s your hurry?” Jerry inhaled deeply and held in the smoke. “Want some of this?”
“It’s a little early in the day, don’t you think?”
“It’s never too early.” Jerry smiled and handed him the pipe.
Oh, what the hell, Lance thought, and took a sizable hit. It was good stuff. “Good stuff,” he said, and handed back the pipe.
“Hey, man, you aren’t in any hurry, are you? Because, I’m sorry, if you are, I can…”
Gold was already feeling more relaxed. “No, not really. No hurry.”
“Then have another toke and let’s go out to the mud pit. Kid and Daddy Bear are already out there, I guess.”
“Mud pit?” He took the pipe and followed Jerry out the door. In the woods, a hundred feet or so from the cabin, the rain-soaked grass gave way to a patch of bare ground, transformed by the storm into a mass of gooey mud. And in the middle of the mud lay Daddy Bear and Kid, their big, bare-naked bodies covered with brown muck.
“Feels great,” smiled Daddy Bear. “C’mon in, guys.”
“I don’t think so,” said Lance.
“Whatsamatter, afraid of losing that city-boy attitude?”
“Oh, fuck off.”
But Jerry was already stripped down. His long dick flopped against his hairy thighs as he strode into the mud and sat down with a plop. Daddy Bear slithered over and gobbled Jerry’s still-clean dick into his mouth. Jerry lay back in the mud and moaned with pleasure.
“Come on in, Lance,” said Kid. “Oh, c’mon.”
“Don’t think so. It’s not my thing.”
“Then let me at least suck you off. Even a pretty-boy like you can’t be that uptight.” Kid’s tone was teasing, and he had a nasty twinkle in his eye.
“I’m afraid I’ll get my jeans dirty. Till I get back to my car, they’re the only pair I’ve got.”
“Then take them off. I give awfully good blow jobs. Just ask Daddy Bear.”
The older man, his mouth still full of cock, mumbled something or other. Lance hesitated.
Jerry spoke up. “Oh, give the kid your dick, Blondie, or you’ll never get back to your car.”
Lance kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants. Kid knelt before him, his mouth open wide. Lance shoved his dick in the boy’s face. The cub’s tongue played with Lance’s cockhead, bouncing it up and down until the visitor’s dick got hard. Then Kid swallowed it with a gulp. He hadn’t been lying; he was a good cocksucker. Kid’s expert mouth worked its way up and down Lance’s hard, smooth shaft. No, make that a great cocksucker.
Kid’s muddy hands were on Lance’s firm butt now, smearing the once-white cheeks. And, Lance had to admit, it felt kind of good. The whole thing was pretty nice. Kid grabbed a big handful of mud and smeared it over Lance’s thighs, between his legs, over his balls, up the crack of his ass. “Mmm,” Lance said.
Never taking his mouth off Lance’s dick, Kid pulled him down to his knees till he was squatting in the mud pit. Kid lay before him, his big, meaty butt pumping up and down as he fucked the mud while sucking Lance’s hard-on. Daddy Bear and Jerry joined in now, pulling Lance down onto the slippery ground, stroking him, covering him with muck. I don’t have sex with fat guys, he thought. But there he was, wallowing with three big, horny, hairy guys, having the time of his life. Jerry got him down on his back as Daddy Bear rolled on top of him. Lance gasped with pleasure at the feeling of all that flesh, all that man, bearing down on him. Daddy Bear beamed at Lance, pressed his bushy face to his, and kissed him long and hard. Hands—Kid’s hands—worked Daddy Bear’s and Lance’s dicks, rubbing the muddy hard-ons together. Muck oozed up Lance’s buttcrack. He pulled his hands free and grabbed Jerry’s thin but very long dick. Jerry slid over and squeezed Lance’s head between his big, hairy thighs. The four men were one big mass of heaving, horny, filthy flesh. Then Kid piped up, “Circle jerk, everybody!”
They sat in a circle on the muddy ground, Kid to Lance’s right, Jerry at Lance’s left, a beaming, laughing Daddy Bear across the circle. Lance’s mud-soaked T-shirt hung heavy on his back. He’d never felt so dirty before, so totally out of control, so totally into his body. Daddy Bear was already working Jerry’s long, skinny hard-on. Jerry reached over and grabbed Lance’s porn-star dick. Lance reached for Kid’s thick, stubby boner. And Kid grabbed Daddy Bear’s cock, which was just plain huge.
“Oh fuck yeah,” said Jerry. “Let’s give Lance here a big ol’ country welcome.” Lance turned to kiss Jerry’s bearded, smiling face. And the four men worked one another’s dicks, jacking, pulling, stroking, till with one tremendous explosion they all got off together, big ropes of hot spunk shooting onto the muddy ground.
“Yahoo!” yelled Kid. “Best timing I ever saw!”
After a long, hot shower and a hearty, leisurely lunch, Jerry drove Lance back to his broken-down Beemer. But the rain had started again, and it was coming down in buckets by the time they reached the car.
“Oh, fuck it. I don’t have to be in Seattle for days,” Lance said. He threw his suitcases in the VW and they headed back for the cabin.
After an afternoon of smoking and talking, and a dinner of stew and biscuits, Jerry lit the logs in the stone fireplace, and they all stripped down and sprawled naked in the warm, fire-lit living room. Lance and Daddy Bear lay on their backs on a bearskin rug, the blond boy’s head propped up on the big man’s hairy belly. “So how can we keep you here for a while?” Daddy Bear asked.
“Well,” said Lance. “You might try tying me up.” He couldn’t believe he’d said it.
“Really?” squealed Kid.
But Jerry and Daddy Bear were already hustling Lance into the bedroom, where three big four-poster beds stood side by side. The two big guys threw Lance onto the middle bed while Kid scurried around collecting ropes and leather restraints. In a matter of minutes, Lance Gold was firmly tied spread-eagle to the bed, looking up at Daddy Bear’s smiling face. “You ever eat bear butt, boy?” the big man asked.
“I’ve never eaten butt at all,” Lance said nervously. He tugged at the ropes; he was securely bound, all right.
“Well, now’s as good a time as any to start, right?”
“I…I guess so.”
“Good enough.” And Daddy Bear climbed aboard, facing the foot of the bed and straddling Lance’s lithe torso. Lance looked up at the man’s big, hairy ass, the dark line of fur in the buttcrack. And it felt just right.
“Give it to me please, Daddy Bear.”
The man squatted farther down till his furry cheeks spread apart and Lance could see the juicy pink hole. Lance inhaled the musky odor and stuck his tongue out. Daddy Bear guided his hole down onto the boy’s waiting mouth. Lance lapped at the tangy flesh and felt Daddy Bear open up for his tongue. Someone’s wet mouth—Jerry’s? Kid’s?—had engulfed his dick and was sucking for all he was worth. Lance stuck his tongue even farther inside, devouring the heat, the taste, the closeness to this big man’s furry butt. The hot mouth on his dick was bringing him close to coming. He writhed against the ropes. “That’s it, city boy, eat your big daddy’s ass,” Daddy Bear growled. Lance grunted, an animal sound.
“Whaddya say we fuck him?” said Jerry.
The mouth pulled away from his dick. “Yeah, let’s screw him!” giggled Kid.
Daddy Bear pulled away his tasty butt and climbed off Lance. “Somebody’s been eating my ass,” he grinned, “and he ate it all up.”
Jerry and Kid untied the ankle restraints and pulled Lance’s feet over his head, tying his feet to the headboard so he was doubled over, his ass wide open. He glanced around. The three men were standing side by side, unrolling rubbers onto their hard dicks.
Jerry went first, kneeling on the bed, lubing up Lance’s hole, sliding his long, thin dick into Lance. The blond boy gasped at first, then relaxed into the pleasure of getting fucked, and fucked well. He looked down at Jerry’s hairy chest and gut, at his own hard dick that bobbled and dripped precum with every stroke.
“Let me in! I want a piece of that!” Kid said. Jerry smiled, pulled out, and the bear cub took his place. Kid grabbed Lance’s ass, spread his cheeks, and shoved his beer can of a dick against the blond boy’s waiting hole. For a second, Lance wondered if he could take such a fat piece of meat, but his doubts vanished as his ass swallowed up Kid’s cock. Kid fucked like a rabbit, plowing him with short, quick thrusts. The cub lowered his considerable bulk down onto Lance and kissed him, shoving his tongue deep into Lance’s mouth. The bed groaned and shook with the force of Kid’s fuckstrokes. It was almost too much. Lance was wondering if he’d have to ask Kid to slow down when he heard a gruff voice. “Stand aside, child, and let Daddy Bear through.”
Kid’s short, fat dick was replaced by Daddy Bear’s enormous boner. The big, furry man fucked Lance’s aching hole with long, slow strokes, reaching every fuck-hungry part of the boy’s insides. For a moment, Lance thought back to the attitude-laden gym bunnies he’d dated in L.A. None of them knew how to do this.
Jerry and Kid were beside him now, to either side of the bed. When Lance moaned in pleasure, Jerry spit into his open mouth. Lance gobbled it down. While Daddy Bear pounded Lance’s hole, Jerry stroked Lance’s dick and Kid stretched out his balls.
“Oh fucking Jesus I’m gonna, I’m gonna…” Daddy Bear grunted.
“Oh yeah!” groaned Lance. The hands left his dick. He looked up. Kid and Jerry were on their feet, leaning over him, kissing, beard against beard, stroking each other’s now-naked cocks.
Daddy Bear screamed, “Oh shit!” just as Jerry and Kid shot their loads, hot streams of cum flying across Lance’s face.
And, without even touching himself, Lance Gold came as he had never come before.
When he got back from cleaning up, Lance found all three beds shoved together, and all three men sprawled under a fluffy pile of comforters.
“C’mon in, city boy,” said Daddy Bear. “You’ve earned yourself some rest.”
And they drifted off to sleep together, huddled in a big, warm tangle of arms and legs and bellies.
The next morning, Lance woke to find himself alone. He shuffled to the kitchen. All three men were there. The table was set for four. And at each place sat a big mug of coffee and a bowl of steaming porridge.
“G’morning, brother,” said Kid.
Jerry just smiled.
And Daddy Bear said, “Well, you’re going to have to let your body hair grow out and put some meat on those skinny bones of yours, but anyways, boy, welcome to the family.”
URSINE KNIGHT
Jay Starre
Waves beat on the foreign shore while storm clouds darkened the forbidding horizon. Not a particularly auspicious welcome for the tall English knight and his entourage.
Sir Donald Smithaxe led his horse down the gangplank, both man and animal sniffing the alien air, finding even its cold atmosphere unfamiliar and uninviting.
“They do not want us here, my pet,” Sir Donald murmured to his beast. The midnight black stallion whinnied and tossed his head, but was otherwise submissive under his master’s strong hand.
The Danish landscape was green at least, even though windswept and barren of any distinguishing mountains or forests to lift the spirit. The English knight had come to claim his fortune and enforce fealty on the locals. He had won the island in tournament, fairly and at the cost of bruised ribs and several days of ringing headaches.
Sir Donald was taller than most, and with his gleaming helmet, even taller. He towered over the paltry welcoming committee, a scant dozen mangy servants led by the bowing mayor of their main village a few miles inland.
The Englishman was not arrogant, considering his rough and violent lifestyle and his habit of victory in tournament and on the battlefield. He removed his helmet and spoke with consideration to those awaiting him.
Under those gloomy skies, he was led to his castle. At first sight there was not much to recommend it. A pile of stone set on the lone hillock in the area. Dull gray under gray heavens. But once he’d been led inside, a roaring fire in a broad hearth offered Sir Donald the first warm welcome of his arrival.
And there was more. Donald stood gazing at the fireplace and the crackling flames from the entrance, two sturdy doors swung wide to open onto a dining hall and the well-fed hearth. A gleaming oak table that could seat at least a score dominated the left wall. The table and chairs were finely made and well polished. A good sign.
On the right side of the chamber stood one man. At first sight of him, Donald was captivated.
Not particularly tall, but extremely sturdy, with a mane of thick copper hair, a soft beard to match, and eyes of misty green, the young man stared directly at his new master with apparent curiosity and no fear whatsoever.
“Welcome, Sir Donald Smithaxe of the Ursine Knights,” the voice echoed in the chamber, robust but of a higher pitch than Donald’s own baritone. The man bowed with a flourish, his hand coming out toward Sir Donald. “I am Prince Olaf Knudd of Bear Island. I am the nephew of the Danish knight whom you vanquished. I am your servant.”
Donald’s prick had stirred at first sight of the stranger, and now it reared up like a warhorse about to strike. Throbbing under his woolen drawers, his erection mirrored his own sudden lust for this self-proclaimed prince.
The man was young, probably in his early twenties, to Donald’s late thirties. There was a gap of experience between them that beckoned to be bridged. Yet the efficient young prince quickly demonstrated his skills, ordering up a fine afternoon meal of hare and roasted vegetables, as well as fine Danish mead to wash it down, with sweet cakes afterward.
The Dane spoke when spoken to, but otherwise maintained a respectable silence as he hovered nearby to attend to Sir Donald’s requests. Donald perused the young prince’s form as the Dane bent over to stir the fire and add wood: thick thighs under woolen drawers, and a chunky, inviting pair of buttocks with a deep divide. Donald’s prick rose again.
Twice Olaf had touched Donald, first to remove the knight’s helmet and breastplate, then a mere brush of a hand over Donald’s furry forearm as the food was served by Olaf himself.
Both times, Donald felt a heated energy wafting over him, emanating from the Dane’s stocky body like the flames of some inner fire. Donald was not one to believe in heathen magic, but in that foreign place, with that attentive and bewitching young prince at his beck and call, Donald could well imagine some kind of spell ensorcelling him.
“I would retire, Olaf. The journey across the North Sea was rough and tedious. Show me to my bedchambers.”
Donald’s own men had been exhausted and seasick, quickly abed once they had seen how this young prince would serve their master adequately. Donald was the last to seek rest, and it seemed even though it was not quite dark outside, the castle was quiet as a slumbering tomb.
Donald’s room was not particularly different from any other, although it was larger and contained another hearth. A fire had been banked and still smoldered. Olaf attended to it as efficiently as he had all else.
The large oak bed boasted a canopy of blood-red wool, and before it a sturdy oak bench with simple pillows allowed the knight to sit and begin removing his boots and clothing. He took his time, observing Olaf’s stocky buttocks as the prince squatted before the ashes and urged them into crackling flames.
Donald smiled. Olaf was like the fire, ash begging to be urged into heated flame. The knight actually laughed out loud at his observation, and Olaf turned at the sound to come forward.
“I will help you, sir, if you allow it.”
So polite. Olaf had lit candles and the glow illuminated them both clearly. Donald’s prick was rising quickly under his trousers, and he knew it would soon appear if he allowed Olaf to remain in the chamber while he finished undressing.
“I would allow it, Prince Olaf.”
Donald’s voice was a deep rumble, but his eyes were wide and bright. He was already smiling and now he grinned and winked. “Be not afraid of what you discover once I am disrobed.”
Olaf smiled back, but out of deference made no reply. Competent hands removed Donald’s upper garments to reveal a broad expanse of furred muscle, numerous scars half-hidden in the soft black coat. Olaf’s fingers lingered over the swell of giant biceps before dropping down to unfasten the large leather belt with its ornamented buckle, the image of two bears rearing as they battled.
The buckle slid off, the drawers were unfastened and hands slid down to open them up and push them lower. Olaf stood in front of Donald, and bent over as he attended to this duty. Donald raised his powerful buttocks to allow the woollen drawers to slide off.
His prick, fat and rampant, bobbed into the open between his burly thighs. A pair of massive balls dangled below to sit on the wooden bench.
Olaf was face to face with the bold erection. He knelt between the knight’s thighs and pulled off the drawers and boots with his eyes moving back and forth between his work and the big prick rearing in his face. Finally, he took a deep breath and spoke.
“It has been told to me that the Order of the Ursine Knights enforces a vow of chastity on its adherents.”
