Bears, page 18
He smiled beneath it and asked, “Why? Freak you out?”
I scrunched up my face and nodded. “Yeah, a little.”
He pulled the beard over his head to reveal a handsome face with a brown goatee surrounding full lips. “How’s that?”
“Much better.” I leaned in and kissed him as he unzipped my jeans and pushed them down. My cock bounced out and he grabbed it in his hairy hand, squeezing it as I groaned down his throat. His hot tongue burst into my mouth and his goatee scratched my lips and tangled with my blond facial hair.
“You’ve got a nice cock, Ron,” he said as he slowly stroked my seven-inch dick. He rubbed a thick finger over the tip, smearing the precum that was already oozing from the slit.
“I like yours too.” I went to my knees, holding the thick shaft tight in my fist as I gauged its length and width. He was about six-and-a-half inches long and three around, a beer can I couldn’t wait to slurp from. I leaned in and opened wide, taking him deep into my throat and tasting his salty sweat as he tipped his head back and moaned.
I took hold of his hairy balls and tugged them tight, earning another moan as I began to suck hard and fast. The fat head of his thick cock filled my mouth and when I pulled back I slathered my tongue across its velvet surface. I sucked him deep and kept a hand around his balls as he gasped and groaned above me, one palm on the back of my head and the other supporting himself on my desk.
“Oh, fuck yeah,” he said, “suck that fat cock down. That’s it, take it all. Oh, yeah.”
After more minutes of sucking, he hooked his hands beneath my armpits and pulled me to my feet. He stood before me, slightly shorter and stockier, then placed a hand on the back of my neck to pull me down for a deep, hot kiss. With his other hand he took hold of both our cocks and began to stroke them. He broke our embrace and moved down over my chest, kissing the dark blond hair covering my torso as he made his way to my pierced left nipple. He grabbed the ring in his teeth and tugged it, his tongue lapping at the hardened nipple beneath.
“Oh, yeah,” I gasped. “That’s right, bite that tit. Get it.”
He moved lower, his tongue leaving a hot, wet track along my body until he knelt before me and swallowed my cock. The heat of his mouth wrapped around my dick and shot straight to my balls, making them clench as my load began to churn faster. I fought it back and reached up to pull on my own nipple, still wet with his saliva. He deep-throated me, his nose pushed into my bush, as his lips clamped tight around the base of my dick and I let out a grunt, closing my eyes and tipping my head back.
“Care to eat Santa’s ass?” he asked, turning his brown eyes up to my blue.
“My pleasure,” I said and he got up on the desk, lying back across it and raising his legs. He grabbed the backs of his thighs with his hands and I knelt on the floor, staring at the pink muscle of his anus surrounded by brown hair. I spread his wide, hairy cheeks and leaned in, dabbing my tongue into the hot, moist cave as it twitched beneath me. He groaned and sighed, encouraging me to dig in deeper until I had my open mouth pressed against his sphincter and my tongue drilled up his hole as far as it could reach. I slurped and sucked at his asshole, coating it with saliva and backing off now and then to slide a finger or two up into him. He groaned and grunted and whispered encouragement as I ate his ass and fingered his hot, eager hole, the muscles inside tightening and releasing around my probing digits.
“Oh, god,” he finally said and raised his head from my blotter. “Just fuck me, please. Ram that big cock in my ass.”
I fished a condom from my backpack, rolling it over my dick and adjusting my stance between his raised legs. He draped his leather boots over my shoulders as I butted the wide head of my cock against his glistening hole and pressed forward. My dick sank halfway into him before his muscles clenched around it. I pulled back slowly, our eyes locked and my hands wrapped around his boots. I moved my hips forward again and plunged into his ass, impaling him completely. We both moaned aloud.
“Oh, fuck yeah!” he exclaimed. “Fuck that hole. Get it in me.”
I began to batter at his hole, my thighs slapping against the cheeks of his ass as my balls swung fast between my legs.
“Oh, god,” he moaned, his red velvet hat coming off as he rolled his head back and forth across the desk. “Oh, yeah. Yeah!”
I started moving my hips faster until my balls clenched and I could feel the cum rising. I pulled out of him and stripped off the condom as I rounded the desk to stand over his face. He opened his mouth as I jerked off above his face, my heavy load splashing across the goatee around his mouth and onto his extended tongue.
I finished stroking myself off and stuffed my dick into his mouth where he sucked it greedily, pulling the last of my load up out of my nuts. His legs still hung in the air as he jacked off and I reached down to slip two fingers into his gaping hole, finding and stroking his prostate. He grunted around my cock and I leaned down over his chest and belly, opening my mouth as his semen spurted up and into my face. The hot, salty taste hit my tongue and I lapped it up from the hairy, rounded surface of his stomach then slurped his softening cock into my mouth to suck it dry as he twitched beneath me, his lips still around my own dick.
After a few minutes I eased up off him and leaned down to plant a deep, gentle kiss on his sticky, salty mouth.
“Merry Christmas,” he said with a smile.
“Merry Christmas,” I replied, then laughed. “What’s your name?”
His smile widened. “Chris.”
I laughed again. “As in Kringle?”
“Sort of,” he said, getting up from the desk and coming around to give me a hug and kiss.
“So, Chris,” I said. “Got plans for tonight?”
“Not a one.”
“Well then, how about another helping of nut nog back at my place?” I suggested. “I’m still pretty hungry.”
“Sounds great to me,” he said, pulling on his red velvet pants. “I can’t wait to roast those chestnuts of yours in my mouth.”
“Santa, how you talk,” I said and we both laughed.
He stepped up and tugged on my nipple ring then kissed me again. “Got any of those lemon bars at home?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” I said. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’m getting impatient for Christmas to come again.”
We finished dressing and headed through the dark store to the gate, where we escaped into the night, a gentle snowfall easing from the soft, fat clouds above.
SUBSTANTIAL TERMS
Dale Chase
He wasn’t my type—too heavy—but I still couldn’t take my eyes off him. I jogged past and after a short distance turned around and took a second pass.
Maybe it was that ordinary look of his, the rest of us pounding the trail in our tanks and tees and high-tech running shoes while he ambled along dressed for shopping or a movie: blue polo shirt, tan slacks, and what appeared to be Hush Puppies. He wasn’t exactly fat; I mean he didn’t have a gut hanging off him, he was just big all over and maybe that’s what caught me. I figured a good six-two to my five-nine and ample, soft, and rounded where I was lean—too lean Derek had said, “angular” his exact term as he departed under less than cordial circumstances. Never mind that we’d jogged together for two years and he was just as thin.
After he left I’d kept running and had met several men on the trail—and elsewhere—but still there seemed a void, a hollow I couldn’t define. Maybe things had been a tad too lean.
I knew I couldn’t pass this guy a third time without being obvious, and for once I didn’t want to be obvious, so I made the second pass count and kept going, content we were now headed in the same direction.
He had a double chin, for chrissakes, and no real definition, yet he had outfitted himself perfectly, his look comfortable, easy. His gait seemed more than physical, as if he had an answer the rest of us didn’t.
His hair was a thick reddish brown, his color fair, and his body seemed in proportion even with the extra weight. I imagined his voice being smooth, soft. And, of course I wondered how he was hung.
I’d never done anything with anyone even remotely heavy. The idea was so far out of the question I’d never considered it, but then I’d never been hit with this kind of attraction either. My experience ranged from buff to lean, never the opposite.
I stopped about a half-mile down the trail and began stretching beneath an old oak, watching for him and growing impatient when he didn’t appear. What was this? I asked myself, but then I saw him, still ambling with that easy pace.
His arms were thick and covered in more of the auburn hair and his belly did crowd his belt but still everything seemed to fit. I looked at his crotch but his slacks were too loose to offer any clue. This left it to my imagination, but I know big guys don’t always have big meat. The biggest I’d ever encountered had been on a five-foot-seven businessman I met at a party. We’d spent half the evening playing with his glorious tool and my asshole will always pucker pleasurably with the memory. This big guy, though, seemed so sure of himself, no swagger but no hesitation either. He acted like he didn’t need to advertise and that made me think in substantial terms.
As he passed he smiled and I knew he was fully aware of my interest. I nodded. Blue eyes, great teeth, pushing forty like me. As I watched him move past, my cock tried to crawl out of my shorts. I hesitated for about thirty seconds, then started after him.
He was easy to catch. “Haven’t seen you out here before,” I said as I fell in beside him and slowed to his walk.
“Just starting,” he replied. “Doctor suggested it. Cholesterol and all that.” He looked over and smiled. “If he means me to look like you, I think I’ll quit now and go have some pie.” His laugh was gentle, inviting.
“I’m Alan,” I said.
“Joe. Good to meet you, Alan.”
We walked along in silence and while I worked at what to say next I realized I didn’t need to say anything and this struck me as so refreshing that I wanted to talk all the more. He seemed to know this and helped me along. “Doc says walking is as good as jogging.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “I’ve had my fill anyway.”
“How far do you usually run?”
“Five miles.”
“Every day?”
“Most.”
He studied my face, which must have seemed absolutely skeletal to him. “Not an ounce of fat,” he said and I agreed, flushing with an odd embarrassment. What in hell is this? I wondered, wishing I could do a freeze-frame and stop things until I figured out what on earth made him so irresistible. “What do you do?” I asked in a voice too forced to be my own.
“I’m a nurse at Mercy Hospital.”
“A nurse?” It came out too loud. He chuckled.
“Surprises everyone, but there are a lot of male nurses now. I think out of a hundred twenty-six RNs at Mercy we number a good thirty-two.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
When he didn’t ask what I did I was grateful because at that moment I’d forgotten everything about myself except the stir in my crotch. The nurse thing had set off an outrageous free association and all I could think of was playing doctor, visualizing him inserting all manner of things into all manner of places. “I’m a financial planner,” I managed after I’d forced aside way too many images.
He gave it a second before responding. “Must be nice to have enough money to need a plan. Me, I just get by.”
We were rounding a final curve, the end of the trail in sight, when I realized I didn’t want him getting away. “End of the trail,” I said playfully.
“I suppose so.”
“Can I ask where you’re headed next? I mean, if you don’t have plans, we could go for coffee.”
“Sounds good. I’m usually working on Saturday but today is the first of a two-week vacation so I’m free as a bird.”
“I should change first,” I noted. “I probably smell awful.”
“Actually you don’t, but it’s up to you.”
“My place is over on Madison.”
We were at the trail’s end now and he stopped and turned to me. “Mine’s closer if you just want a shower.”
The offer was so genuine it had an almost asexual quality and the oddest part was that this hit me harder than anything. He gave me an easy smile and I said fine and we walked on out of the park.
Standing at a curb waiting for the light to change, I found myself viewing us as others might, fat and thin, big and little, yet I found my role entirely comfortable. When the light changed he nudged my elbow. “Wool gathering?” he asked halfway across.
I hadn’t heard that expression since childhood when my grandmother tried to get my attention. “So to speak,” I replied, wanting to tell him what was happening to me even though I still didn’t know exactly what it was. Attraction, yes, that was obvious, but the context remained almost troubling. I looked over at him and felt a pang of shame. “I don’t get down this way,” I offered as we turned onto a tree-lined street.
“Well, if you live on Madison I can understand. All those high-rises. What floor are you on?”
“Eighteen.”
He chuckled. “Me, I’ve got to have a garden and I can’t be up in the air like that. I need a foundation. Sort of old-fashioned, I guess.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
His street was Beech, an example of what predated the condos on Madison: wood-frame bungalows from the twenties surrounded with mature trees, healthy lawns, fences, wide porches.
“It’s nice,” I said. “Been here long?”
“Eighteen years,” he replied as we stopped at a tidy white bungalow with a dark red concrete porch. “It belonged to my aunt. She willed it to me and I’ve been here ever since.”
He moved up the narrow path that cut between two squares of lawn. On the porch were white wicker chairs and a small round table. He opened the door, stepped aside, and motioned me in.
The house was as far opposite my condo as his body was mine, rich woods and thick fabrics, overstuffed and easy, where mine was white and chrome, lean and careful. I thought of that now—careful—because his place was so lived in, so welcoming. An artful clutter pulled me in further, made me want to draw the place up around me. “This is wonderful,” I said as Joe moved past.
“I like it,” he said from the hall. “Shower’s through here.”
When he handed me a towel he lingered for a second but didn’t stay. Before I got into the shower I opened the door he had closed behind him. I wanted him to know he was welcome to join me.
I washed quietly, soaped the erection that had blossomed, then rinsed myself clean. I stood in the spray longer than necessary, anticipating company, but when he didn’t appear I toweled off and went to find him.
He was lying in a massive mahogany four-poster, propped up on pillows and wearing a blue terrycloth robe. His hands lay across his middle. I stood in the doorway ramrod stiff and he untied his robe but went no further.
“When you said you were a nurse all I could think of was playing doctor,” I told him. He smiled and I moved to the bed. “I mean, a nurse has to do all that stuff, right? Sponge baths, bedpans, shots.”
“Everything from back rubs to enemas.” He reached up, took my dick in hand, and traced the knob with his thumb. As his thick fingers handled my prong, I found myself as turned on by what lay beneath the robe as by his hand on my cock. I was dying to see how his flesh manifested itself, if there was simply an extra layer or if it presented itself in rolls and bulges with deep creases in between. And where in all of this was his prick? The look on his face said he was aroused but no tent appeared in the terrycloth. As his hand slid down my shaft and began a gentle pull, I climbed onto the bed and kneeled beside him. He continued to work me and seemed to understand my need to explore what lay beneath the nubby blue fabric.
I didn’t want a peep show so I pulled the robe open in one fell swoop, draping both sides back to reveal his naked body. I then took my time discovering him. Running my hands from shoulder to thighs, I found a cushion beneath the pale skin, most of which was covered in a generous auburn hair that did not quite hide the mounds of flesh at his nipples. I lingered over these, kneading gently, then moved on. His shoulders were rounded and the collarbones so prominent on me were completely hidden on him.
The hair on his chest funneled down onto a belly that relaxed out to the sides. I gathered a handful and squeezed, rolling his fat between fingers and palm, then flattened my hand to continue exploration where the hair thickened below. I ran my fingers down through fine textured pubes and then I was at the cock I so desperately wanted.
The surprise was that it was still soft. For an awful moment I considered that I was in bed with someone incapable of the most basic act, but he quickly reassured me. “Don’t worry,” he said, “it’s a kind of Zen thing.” And the flaccid prick twitched slightly in agreement and began to fill. When it was halfway up I leaned over and took it into my mouth and found it wonderfully pliable, pulsing slightly with something akin to a heartbeat.
The cock turned out to be as substantial as the man and I sucked and pulled until it reached full girth, then sat back to admire the magnificent rod. I put my hand around it and squeezed and he moaned softly. “Beautiful,” I said. I didn’t work it as I usually would but simply held on, watching the tip begin to ooze. I ran my other hand up his chest into that silky forest while he toyed with my dick and I found as much pleasure in the whole of him as I did his generous meat. And then I did something totally out of character. Giving in to impulse, I climbed onto him and stretched out prone, trapping our cocks between our stomachs, and there I began to ride him in what became a glorious whole-body experience.
He didn’t move—he didn’t have to—but the look in his eyes told me everything and I drew my tongue along his lips, then into his mouth. He welcomed me with an easy suck and I felt my come begin to rise.
Mouths locked together, cocks sheathed in our mutual flesh, I rode his body with every inch of mine, thighs pressed to his, chest swimming atop those fleshy tits. His dick felt like a log under me, my own rubbing against it. He seemed to envelop me entirely and as my eyes blazed with an imminent eruption, he let go of my tongue and offered up a long exhale as his cock spurted into the crevice between us. Seconds later my own did the same. Pulsing out an exquisite climax, I clutched his shoulders, still riding his body, and when I was empty, going soft, I remained atop him because I couldn’t get enough of our connection. He started to soften but even in repose remained impressive.
