The following fictional story deals with sex among males. If you are offended by such material, are too young, or reside in an area where it is not allowed, cease reading now and depart. Though not observed in this story, care enough about yourself and humankind always to practice safe sex.
The author retains all rights. No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the author's consent.
Patrick Young ClayCub51@Yahoo.com
CLAY -- Chapter Two "Midnight Mauling"
Clay hung up the phone. Claire had returned safely to the luxury of her suite in the Dakota. Her first New York meeting had gone well, she had said. He rolled over clutching the big pillow between his legs, humping once, and allowed the arms of Morpheus to claim him.
Moments, perhaps hours, passed, when suddenly Clay bolted into consciousness. "UNGH!" Clay rolled to his left and groaned when his balls didn't roll with him.
"What the--" he spit out, his right ball taken in a hot, twisting, chewing, demanding, relentless mauling, paralyzing him in nuance and a jolt of fear. He reached toward the wet vise capturing him, and felt -- the soft fuzz of a short haircut in the way. "--FUCK?" he shrieked as teeth -- REAL teeth -- kept him in position, and not a comfortable one. A thick finger prodded his asshole, intense, persistent. Clay locked every muscle of his body in defiance.
"Lemme in, goddammit," a strange bass voice growled between his legs, the tongue hot, slick, unrelenting. The finger twisted upward with a "Lemme in, lover. You know how good your Daddy loves you, Warren. Lemme in, ya hot fuck!" Hot lips molested the base of Clay's cock to sudden hardness, fingers clawing at his pucker urgently. "Daddy's home, Warren. I gotta have you, man, let your Daddy IN!"
"NO!" Clay wailed as two fingers breached his ass. Two very large, very wet, very determined fingers, inside his clenching chute. They twisted undaunted in their intention to open, woo, demand entrance. "NO!" A third finger joined the assault, prostate found by the longest digit, which cued an electric keening from the Clay's throat, the ecstasy unmistakable, if unsolicited.
"C'mon, Warren, lemme in. Daddy's home, ya little fuck, whatsa matter, you don't know your Daddyman anymore?"
The bedside lamp clicked on. Two men gawked at each other, one enraged, one incredulous. "Where's Warren?" the big bear roared.
"WHO's Warren, you sick fuck?" the golden cub roared back defensively at the bearded face still slobbering at the base of the formidable appendage rising between Clay's legs.
"Well, the last time I used this key, I ate him in this room, in this bed, and you feel just like him, cub. What'd you do to him, mothafucka?" snarled the grizzly, suddenly menacing.
Clay slid his hand under the mattress to retrieve the .38 Special his father had willed him. He remembered Charlie's words: "Son, I know you don't believe in guns, but by God I've taught you how to use and respect 'em and when I'm gone, this one goes to you. One day you'll have need of it." Today was that day. Clay laid the barrel alongside his cock, flipped off the safety, cocked the hammer. Cold steel is instantaneously sobering. All movement froze. "If I kill you right now I'd never spend a minute in jail, you crazy piece of shit. This is MY home, MY bed, and I DON'T know you or why you've got your mouth on my balls. So you want me to fire this thing, or you want to talk to me?"
The man was a massive silver-brown bear, yet he looked like a choirboy with the barrel of Charlie's .38 up his nostril. He blinked twice and his icy-gray eyes focused clearly. Brilliant white teeth flashed in a wry smirk within the full curly beard, eyebrows raised in humility. "I think I fucked this one up, cubby. Warren sure wouldn't shove a gun up his Daddy's nose. You sure ain't who I thought was in this bed." A pause, ragged panting, nostrils flaring.
"Keep going," Clay barked, chest heaving, not a muscle unclenched.
The big man chuckled, "But you'll do nicely. And you'll fire, all right!" And he swallowed Clay's hard cock down to his pubes, the crown clutched inside a well- practiced throat, swallowing hungrily. Clay could only throb and groan as his dickhead experienced the most incredible sensation of his life, down the gullet of this strange, big, hairy mass of manmuscle. The bear gurgled around the thick pole, fingers thrusting again against a responding prostate, prompting Clay to relinquish the gun from the man's face, releasing the cocked hammer and resetting the safety. He left the pistol resting on his thigh, as the satyr devoured his manhood to the root and beyond. An intense rhythmic growl plead the bear's case to ransom his life with the blowjob of a lifetime. He was winning his salvation.
Long, thorough slurps and steady finger thrusts deep inside took Clay to bliss in nothing flat. He put the gun on the bedside table and wound a hand into the gnarled beard of his assaulter, the other caressing the closely-buzzed head. "Yeah, that's it, cubbo, be sweet to Daddy. I just wanna love ya," rumbled the husky bass.
The fingers stretching his hole stabbed again, the middle one sweetly bludgeoning Clay's swelling internal chestnut. `Claire sure don't know how to do THAT!' flashed across his mind, then dissolved into the suctioning insistence milking his slit. "OHHH!" blurted past his lips as his internal trigger went off, a flood of cum prompted from inside the depths of his violated pucker, into the mouth of the great bear consuming his body.
Urgent suckling claimed Clay's eruption. Two sudden handfuls of beard kept the mouth devouring his spasming tube of hard flesh on target. "OHHH, Daddy!" Clay submitted to the draining of his nectar, his entire body quivering, glazed in a sweaty sheen. "OHHH, do it!" He blasted again into the unrelenting throat milking his seed from the balls now pulled up so tightly. "OHHH, take me!" Clay rode the rocket blazing behind his eyelids, "OHHH, Daddy!" again, and "OHHH, fuck!" again, and "OHHH, God!" again, then collapsed into oblivion.
A low growl vibrated his soul from between his twitching thighs. "Hmmm, SWEET, cubby!" the voice rumbled. Tongue rasped against meatus, relentless, it's too sensitive, NO PLEASE STOP, "OHHH, DADDY!" eliciting a final clench, one more shot of spunk. The big man growled into Clay's crotch, "A man's gotta get his feeding, right? Wherever we find you. Yummmmm--" A strong, deliberate slurp pulled a final surge from the whimpering golden stud buried in the bearded face. The musclebear eased his fingers from the clutching sphincter and licked each one clean, smacking obscenely. "Yeah, better'n my sweet little Warren, maybe. I'll have to get you both side by side to be sure, though. Whatcha say, cub? Think Daddy can getcha back up for that?" He licked the turgid flesh from base to tip again, and sprang upwards, landing on top of his conquest with a resounding "OOMPH!" from them both, driving his bearded face into Clay's slack mouth, sucking, probing, drinking noisily. A thick cowled bludgeon slammed between their heaving hairy abs, and erupted, mightily, hotly, over and over and over. The grunts and thrusts gradually slowed, the room fading into stillness.
Slowly Clay's hands traveled upwards over the massive back, combing through dark brown silk swirling in profusion. He dove back against the thick beard, offering his thick tongue, grinding his softening cock into the sticky pool between their hirsute fronts. "Oh, Daddy Bear--" he sighed, utterly spent. Strong arms gathered him closer. With a surge of moxie, Clay rolled them over together, straddling the silver bear's loins and massaged the daddyspunk into the big hairy muscles swelling beneath his hands.
Suddenly it occurred to Clay: `I'm -- bigger'n him!'
The masterly flesh he was kneading came into clear focus. `God, he's magnificent, and gorgeous! So powerful, awesome! But he's not that -- big,' was the assessment. Reality gradually dominated perception, and the great musclebear morphed into the compact, taut proportions of the small, perfect gymnast body of his master nonetheless. A spark of realization flashed in the icy blue eyes staring up at Clay. "Whassa matter, cubby? You gotta problem with your Daddy?"
"No, sir," he breathed, lowering his green eyes in submission, then riveting them again into the depths of clear blue steel, centered, claimed, acknowledged, pleasured. He dove back into the bearded face, searching with his tongue for the hot mouth, finding it, filling it. A revelation of whose power drove the moment overwhelmed Clay. He looked up, tears of bliss shimmering, then buried his face in the thick silver sworls blanketing the broad chest of his maestro with a whimpered surrender.
"Show me, Daddy?" he pleaded.
A strong hand caressed the back of Clay's head, stroking the blond curls. The other hand found his asscheek, and kneaded. "Yeah, cubby, c'mere. Your Daddy Bear loves you, loves loving you up. C'mon, baby, lemme know you love your Daddyman."
TO BE CONTINUED--
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