Bears, page 17
“Not quite so, young Olaf.” Sir Donald grinned, his dark eyes sparkling in the candlelight with a devilish mirth. “Those of us who enter the Order must swear to never touch a woman, in the passionate sense. Women are forbidden to us. Not passion.”
The words hung in the air, a long silence followed by the young nobleman’s deep exhalation of held breath.
Olaf attempted a smile, his white teeth catching the flickering light between the fur of his silky beard. His wide cheeks blushed, whether from the heat in the room due to the roaring fire in the hearth and the dozen candles illuminating the chamber, or from the realization of what the Ursine Knight’s words truly imported.
A large calloused palm settled over his head. The slightest urging was all Olaf needed as the fingers of that hand gently pulled forward. Cock lurched and bobbed on the bench in front of Olaf, and with a choked sigh, his face descended of its own will.
Lips caressed the leaking prick head, then tongue came out to swipe tenderly, tentatively. Donald gasped, his heavy body lurching on the bench and his hips rising just enough to slide the sticky knob between the parted lips.
Olaf sucked prick into his mouth, his head bobbing with sudden passion. Donald groaned and leaned back into the foot of his new bed. His hefty thighs came together to clasp the stocky prince between them.
Olaf’s hands were not idle, now that the secret of his desire was revealed. They roamed over Donald’s massive torso, stroking giant pecs and broad shoulders, discovering pointed nubs within the nest of dark curls and gently tugging at them as his mouth galloped up and down the knight’s massive prick.
Donald felt the power of that amazing suck, and the urgency of his own potent balls to empty. But it was too soon and he wanted more out of this prince.
“Strip, Prince. I wish to see you naked as you suck my cock.”
Olaf’s mouth immediately rose off of its prize with a lewd slurp. “Yes, Lord,” he muttered, his eyes downcast as he hastily tore off his own clothing, still on his knees between Donald’s hairy thighs.
The prince was not as powerful as the knight, but still boasted muscle on his shorter frame. His chest hair was a fine down of copper trailing down to his stiff prick, which oozed copious precum. Olaf wriggled out of his boots and drawers while remaining on his knees. When the prince’s rounded asscheeks came into view, also coated with a fine down of copper hair, Donald’s prick lurched and his balls roiled.
Donald laughed out loud as he bent over and reached down to land a playful open-palmed slap on one of the naked prince’s chunky buttcheeks. Olaf gasped, his ass pink where the hand had landed, his lush bottom jiggling.
“Suck your new Lord’s prick, Prince.”
Olaf went back to work with a purpose. He held the large column of flesh in both hands and fed it to himself, his own cock twitching and his fat balls bouncing between the knight’s thighs.
Donald observed the display with keen eyes. The prince’s plump asscheeks quivered as Olaf sucked and bobbed over the knightly manhood. Donald stared at the deep cleft between the massive cheeks, desiring a view of the hole he knew waited there.
“Show your Lord your hole, Prince. I want to see it while you suck cock.”
The words were uttered in a growl, but the tone was not as demanding as it may have sounded. If a growl could be a purr, that was how Olaf heard them.
The prince removed both hands from the base of Donald’s prick and reached back to clasp his own lightly furred buttcheeks. He pulled them wide apart, his fingers clenching the plush muscle as he exposed himself for his Lord’s pleasure.
Donald leaned over, his belly mashing against the silken locks of the prince’s copper hair. He gazed into the parted crack. Giant mounds and a deep divide, coated in coppery down, and between them buried deep, a crinkled hole flushed pink in the center. The hole looked tight, the sphincter clenched and palpitating.
The young prince’s fingers slid deeper into Donald’s crack and pulled it open, revealing ever-pinker inner flesh, glistening and quivering.
Then Olaf went further. He rolled his large hips and squirmed suggestively, pouting his asslips between his fingers. He sucked with loud vigor, humping cock with his mouth while his asshole waited for, and craved, the same attention.
Sir Donald smiled with satisfaction. Olaf was beyond obedient; he was absolutely devoted. There had been a truce between them from the moment they met, neither quite trusting the other. Donald had wondered if the prince might dare to murder him in his sleep, perhaps rightly entertaining thoughts any conquered nobleman might when required to succumb to a conqueror.
But the message was clear. The prince served the knight.
Donald stared at the sweet hole between heaving asscheeks and succumbed to the oral onslaught. As he felt jism rising from his roiling ball sac, he slid a hand down Olaf’s broad back and into the deep crack. One finger found the hole and stroked it as orgasm finally rocked the knight’s soul, and he fed his load to the Danish prince.
Olaf swallowed eagerly, his buttcheeks quaking, his asshole quivering under the knight’s firm strokes. He sucked until not a drop remained to swallow.
“Well done, Prince Olaf. And now is there another way you would please me?” Donald growl-purred as he slid his cock from the wet cavern of the Dane’s mouth.
Olaf bowed deeply, his hands still deep in his own asscrack. “I offer you my hole. For your pleasure.”
Although Donald had just achieved orgasm, his libido was far from sated. The sight of the kneeling prince offering up his hole was enough to stimulate a rising erection. But the Ursine Knight also knew of even more ways to urge his prick into full saddle again.
“Come then, sit that lush ass on my face.”
Donald rose and lifted himself by his massive arms to push back onto the bed behind him. Naked, he sprawled on the fine woollen bedspread and placed his arms behind his head. “Sit on my face, Prince,” he repeated with a wicked grin.
Olaf was swift, leaping onto the bed with an agility that belied his bulky build. For an instant, Donald realized the Dane could be a threat if he intended harm, but then the prince turned around and his huge, luscious butt descended over Donald’s face.
“That’s it. Feed me your ass, Olaf. Rub it over my face like a good servant should.”
Olaf again held open his asscheeks for his new master as he wriggled them suggestively over Donald’s face, then settled down to bury mouth and nose with hairy crack. Donald’s nasty laugh was smothered by warm buttocks.
The knight opened his mouth and licked. Hairy butt flesh pressed against his lips and tongue. He inhaled the smell of musky Danish butthole greedily, tonguing the offered hole with stabs and probes that had Olaf grunting like a gored pig.
Donald sprawled back and relaxed, his mouth and tongue the only truly active parts of his anatomy. He allowed the Dane to back over his face and rub it with his crack, moaning and twitching as his hole was swabbed, pleasured, and probed. As Donald had anticipated, his prick was reinvigorated by the tasty asshole feast, and he settled into it with the realization that soon enough his stiff pole would replace his slithering tongue up the Dane’s pucker.
Olaf wiggled his buttcheeks and groaned. That snaking tongue and those sucking lips were driving him mad. The giant English brute was a man to be reckoned with. Handsome, confident, and unashamed of his sexual lusts, he had truly ensorcelled the young prince.
With the younger man’s snug hole amply moistened and swollen into an eager pout, Donald knew it was time to fuck it. Unfolding his arms with languid ease, he reached out and lifted the beautiful ass off his face.
“Sit on your master’s prick. Fill your hungry hole with a knight’s stiff staff.”
“Yes, Lord. My hole is yours, as you have won it in fair conquest.”
The words were polite, but the voice gasped. Olaf crawled eagerly forward over Donald’s hairy torso to straddle his massive hips. He clasped both of his chunky buttcheeks and pulled apart his ass once again.
Donald had the perfect view of the deep divide and the slippery hole with its engorged anal lips. He reached out and gripped his erection in one calloused fist. The crown rose straight up to aim at the willing slot.
“Submit, Prince Olaf,” Donald commanded.
Olaf moaned, slowly dropping over the slab of prick beneath him. His asshole swallowed the cap, twitching around it possessively as Olaf grunted, then descended steadily to engulf inch after inch until he settled down on Donald’s firm hips.
Donald folded his arms again behind his neck as the Dane impaled himself. Olaf began to hump prick in an obscene and delightful manner, up and down in lusty exuberance.
The prince’s effort had its effect. Not only the sight of that handsome and sturdy young prince riding prick so lewdly, but the sensation of asshole massaging his throbbing prick soon had Donald reaching his second release.
Olaf’s own orgasm triggered that release. The prince’s asshole clamped and convulsed over Donald’s prick while the prince sprayed a copious load of spunk all over the knight’s hairy thighs.
Olaf cleaned them both with warm, wet towels, naked as he serviced his lord. Donald fell into an untroubled sleep shortly afterward.
The following day all was well in his new fief as Danes came from all around the island to offer their allegiance and gifts. The Ursine Knight was considerate enough, but his mind was elsewhere. Every time he laid eyes on stocky young Olaf, his fantasies returned to inviting asscheeks and the snug hole between them.
It was finally past dark and time to retire. Olaf had disappeared after serving supper, and Donald made his way to his bedchamber on his own, wondering where the prince had gone. He soon discovered where.
As he entered his chambers, heat wafted over him. The fire was roaring in the hearth, and candles glowed. And best of all, there was Olaf.
Sir Donald’s shield leaned against the bench at the foot of his bed. The bold image of two bears wrestling embossed the colorful face. On his hands and knees before it, as if in homage to the Ursine Order, Olaf crouched. Naked.
His hefty buttcheeks quivered, anticipating rough caresses. Olaf’s muscular thighs were spread wide, exposing the pink hole between his furry cheeks. Hole wanted prick, and would undoubtedly receive it.
At that moment, Sir Donald realized he had been ensorcelled by that rounded, naked ass, that pulsing, welcoming hole. The Danish prince wiggled hips and thighs with enticing allure, and arched his back.
Yes, the Ursine Knight had been conquered. Not by force of arms, but by the power of an irresistible princely ass!
Who was the conqueror, and who the vanquished, was no longer clear.
Or important.
MAUL SANTA
Jude Gray
It’s the most wonderful time of the year,” Dex said with a tired smile as he finished ringing up another customer. He winked at me as I passed through the thick line of people, a carryout cup of coffee in one hand and a last-minute gift for my nephew in the other. The shoppers, tired and overheated in their down coats, parted reluctantly around me, some grumbling about the time it took to pay for their purchases and get out of my store.
I headed to the back, nodding to the other employees scattered through the store helping customers, and ducked into the back break room, sighing with relief. What an exhausting month December is for retail workers. I sipped my coffee, pinned my name badge back onto my chest, punched back in at the time clock, then took a breath and stepped out on the floor. A woman wearing too much perfume grabbed my arm and dragged me around the racks of clothing as she threw words over her shoulder a mile a minute. Something about a twelve-year-old granddaughter who wanted to dress like a pop star. I chose a few outfits, not altogether tawdry or illegal in most private schools, and then headed up front to the registers.
“Need a break?” I said over Dex’s shoulder. He shrugged.
“Not too much.” He glanced to his left and looked back at me with a raised eyebrow. “But Ethel might.”
I turned to Ethel, a woman in her seventies, all of five feet tall (five and a half if you counted her beehive), with a great sense of humor and the need to try and set me up with almost every man who came into the store. She also made the best lemon bars on earth.
“How ’bout it, Ethel,” I asked. “Need a break from ringing to prowl the floor?”
She smiled up at me and winked. “Sure, Ron. I know you like to be up here in case he comes in again.”
I rolled my eyes and waved her away from the register. “Yeah, yeah. Go on with you, tiny woman. And be careful out there, it’s a madhouse.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Ethel stepped down from the small stool she used when working the register and I moved it aside. “Christmas Eve shoppers are the most desperate people on earth,” she muttered to me, then edged her way through the crowd until a frenzied woman with platinum-blonde, flyaway hair grabbed her by the arm and held a list up to her face.
“She’s right, Ron,” Dex said as I smiled at the next customer and began ringing up purchases. “He was prowling around just outside the door before he went on duty today.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said and turned so that Dex could not see my smile. He and Ethel were talking about a hot bear who had followed me back to the store one evening after my dinner break. He had a beard and brown eyes, and wore a red velvet suit and leather boots. I had been stalked by the mall Santa, and Dex and Ethel loved to razz me about him. Truth was, I had not spoken a single word to him all season, didn’t know what he looked like beneath his white beard and red suit, but frequently caught sight of him lingering outside the store doorway on his way to the large throne in the middle of the mall. I did know he was great with children, though, down on one knee handing out candy and hugs, all the while glancing into the store to try and catch my eye.
“I bet you’re going to get something better than a lump of coal in your stocking this year,” Dex whispered between customers. We both laughed.
Toward the end of the night, while I watched the credit card slips pile up in the back office, I caught a flash of red from the corner of my eye, and looked up as Santa strolled into the store. The exhausted customers standing in line broke into grins and waved, calling out their wishes for Christmas, which included paid up credit cards, retired mortgages, and new sports cars. Santa took their good-natured shouts in with a laugh and a wave, and began browsing through the racks. The throng around him parted and I frowned, standing on my toes to see what was going on. A beehive hairdo was making its Aqua-Netted way through the crowd, approaching Santa. I rolled my eyes as Ethel broke through the last of the shoppers and touched the man on his arm. He turned to look down and I saw his eyes crinkle with the size of his smile. Ethel had that effect on people.
“Back to us here at the registers, Ron,” Dex whispered in my ear. “Think about Santa’s North Pole while you ring, we close in thirty minutes and these people need to get home.”
I nodded absently to Dex and returned my attention to the register, ringing up my next customer.
Forty-five minutes later I escorted the final buyer through the security gate and closed it firmly before letting out my breath. Another Christmas Eve done, my ninth at this store as manager, and each year it seemed to get more and more difficult to keep up the holiday spirit. I made my way through the disheveled store and entered the back room to a chorus of “Deck the Halls” sung woefully out of tune by Dex and Ethel, the two remaining staff members. They handed me a glass of zinfandel from a bottle Ethel had purchased earlier at the convenience store across the mall. Nothing said Christmas like toasting with zinfandel and good friends.
After two glasses of wine, I escorted Dex and Ethel to the gate, sent them off to their families, and locked it behind them. They walked tiredly through the darkened mall, arms around each other, eyes bright from zinfandel as they sang carols. Ethel turned around and blew me a kiss. “Merry Christmas, Ron!” I smiled and waved, then turned to make my way to the back room, where I dropped into a chair and let out my breath.
“Guess I’m not the only one busy on Christmas Eve,” a deep voice said from my office. I jumped to my feet, poking my head in the door to find the mall Santa sitting behind my desk. He wore his hat and beard but had removed his red velvet suit to reveal a chest covered with dark brown hair. I swept my eyes down the thick fur covering his pecs and rounded belly, and a slow erection made its way down my thigh.
“Santa,” I said with a grin. “Aren’t you a little early?”
He shrugged beefy, hairy shoulders and turned his large hands palms up over my desk. “Gotta start somewhere.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Did Ethel put you up to this?”
He winked, his brown eyes twinkling. “Let’s just say a little elf told me you usually spend Christmas alone. She also tempted me with lemon bars.”
“Uh-huh. And what about you, Santa? No one waiting at home for you?
“Nope, Santa’s on his own this year.” He stood and moved around the desk, leaning back against it and folding his thick, hairy arms over his furry chest. I took a breath and smiled. Santa was nude and hotter than I had imagined. Brown hair covered his body, riding the swell of his belly to thicken around his stout cock, continuing down along his thick thighs and calves, to disappear into the fur-lined tops of his black leather boots. A heavy set of balls dangled between his thighs, pink beneath a layer of dark hair.
“Santa, I never imagined you were this hot,” I croaked, my throat suddenly dry.
“There’s a lot about Santa you don’t know, Ron,” he said, reaching down to pull on his cock. “Like how I enjoy having my ass eaten by a man with a goatee.”
“Really? Well, it’s the least I could do after everything you’ve left under my tree all these years,” I said, and stepped toward him. He reached to unbuckle my belt and loosen my jeans, all the while looking into my eyes, his full white beard obscuring most of his mouth. I stroked his artificial whiskers and asked, “Can you lose the beard?”
