"Sloan Cosgrove 2, Confessions of a Middle-Aged Bear" is the sequel to "Sloan Cosgrove, Confessions of a Teenage Bear," a novel originally published online in 2001 and currently available at:
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/college/sloan-cosgrove/
Feel free to email me at thefratbear@yahoo.com if you'd like to connect or ask a question. I can even send you a copy of the original "Sloan Cosgrove, Confessions of a Teenage Bear" in handy PDF format. Please note that my old fratbear(at)excite.com email address no longer works.
You can also follow me on Twitter: http://twitter.com/thefratbear
"Sloan Cosgrove 2, Confessions of a Middle-Aged Bear"
by fratbear (thefratbear@yahoo.com)
Chapter 25: Take A Picture
September 2003
"You mind if I take your picture?"
I looked up from my book, squinting from the bright sunlight, and saw a young, stocky, dark-haired cub standing over me, clutching a professional-looking camera.
I was reclined in a rented beach chair on the sands of Santa Monica Beach under the blazing hot sun. A little-known fact to many who haven't lived in Los Angeles is that the city is actually hottest not during the height of summer, but during late-August through mid-October. Every day this week was going to be in the upper-90s at my apartment in Hollywood, so on this Thursday I decided to hop on a bus and head to the beach, where it was "only" going to be 83 degrees.
Well-protected by repeated applications of spray-on sunscreen, I'd been sitting in my swim trunks for a couple of hours, making good progress on my book, a bestselling historical fiction crime novel that I'd heard Kirk was going to adapt for a major studio. After a few visits to the beach with Gabe, who proudly strutted about in his Speedos, I had become comfortable putting my own body on display in broad daylight.
I was so engrossed in the novel that I didn't even notice the photographer cub approaching me with his camera. If I hadn't been so absorbed in my book, I would've been ogling him from a mile away. That was just how cute he looked.
He was maybe the same age as me, and he looked like he could've been one of my frat brothers back in Texas. He had a handsome, round face framed by a mop of brown hair, thick, expressive eyebrows, and a short but scruffy beard. He kind of looked like a caveman. He had dark, sleepy eyes that made him look perpetually exhausted and perplexed when he wasn't smiling.
And then there was his body, big, thick, and round all over. He was clad in a dark blue tank top that stretched over his big barrel chest and full belly and showed off the fuzz that was probably covering his entire chest and stomach. They also exposed his big, round shoulders, massive but not muscular upper arms, and thick, furry forearms. He looked strong even though he didn't look like he worked out or played any sports. He must've just been naturally big like this.
During the previous few months, I'd been back to The Men's Club every couple of weeks, ending up in a cum-soaked orgy during almost every visit. It satisfied my desire for cock, but I also longed for the thrill of being cruised in public. The moment I saw him, I hoped that this cute cub was going to provide me with that thrill.
"Excuse me?" I was unsure if I'd heard him correctly.
"I want to take your photo," he repeated. "Do you mind?"
"Uh, yeah." I was a little thrown off by the request. "You want me to be doing anything?"
"You can just read your book."
"Okay," I said, looking back down at my book and pretending to read. Even over the loud sounds of the crashing waves and screeching seagulls, I heard his camera shutter click a couple of times.
"Thanks," he said, and I looked back up at him.
"You a professional photographer?" I asked.
"Yeah." He extended a hand to me, which I shook. "Dylan."
"Sloan."
Dylan stopped shaking my hand and held it, turning it over in his hand and taking a good look at it.
"You hold it any longer and people are gonna think you're proposing," I joked.
He smirked, looking super adorable in the process. "No, it's just you've got beautiful hands."
"I can honestly say no one's ever said that to me before," I replied, wondering what his game was.
"I'm currently working on a photographic series about men's bodies. I'm hoping to find a gallery that might show it."
He let go of my hand, and I held it up to take a good look at it myself. I wasn't sure I saw what he was seeing. "Didn't know you could make a living doing that," I said.
Dylan chuckled. "Yeah, well, I also shoot weddings, concerts, and other events. That's what pays the bills. But my main passion is art photography."
"That's cool." I nodded, suddenly wishing I was passionate about something like that. Something I could make a career out of.
"I'd love to get you into a studio and take some black-and-whites of your hands," Dylan said, handing me a business card. "I think with the right lighting, they'll look almost like sculptures. I can even pay you as a model."
I thought for a moment. I'd never had anyone ask me to do anything like this in my life. "When would you want to do this?"
"Any time that's convenient for you," he answered.
"And you just want to take photos of my hands."
"And any other parts that look beautiful in black-and-white."
I smiled, getting the sense that he was flirting with me. "Well, do you want to do it right now? I wasn't planning to stay out in the sun for much longer, anyway."
Dylan's face brightened. "Yeah, sure. My studio's in Venice. We can walk there."
"Let's do it, then." I sat up and started to pack up my stuff in a backpack. "You mind if I shower at your place? I'm kind of all gross with sunscreen and sand."
Dylan grinned. "You can do anything you want."
Dylan's studio turned out to also be his apartment, located in an old one-story brick warehouse a couple of blocks from the beach that had been partitioned into artist studios and living spaces. The walk there from Santa Monica Beach took more than half an hour, and during that whole time I lumbered along the sidewalk still dressed only in my swim trunks with a beach towel draped over my shoulders.
The long walk did allow Dylan and me to have a nice conversation and learn more about one another. Dylan went to college in Florida, and as I'd guessed by looking at him, he'd been a frat boy like me. And like me, he'd managed to have tons of sex with some of his frat brothers, even ones who identified as straight. He was a shutterbug in college, working as a photographer for the school paper and being hired by frats and sororities to take photos of their parties and events.
Figuring that there were tons of opportunities to photograph events in Los Angeles, he'd moved here after college, and he immediately landed a gig to photograph concerts for a local alternative weekly. It didn't pay a lot, but it allowed him to build up a portfolio of artistic photography in his spare time.
Even though we spent a good chunk of the walk exchanging torrid stories of our hottest gay sex adventures, and we were clearly hungry for one another, we didn't touch once, seemingly determined to keep things completely professional. When Dylan let me into his studio and directed me to his adjoining apartment and bathroom where I could get cleaned up in the shower, it was all perfectly innocent, even when I dropped my swim trunks to the floor, letting Dylan see me in all my naked glory.
"These are beautiful," I remarked as I looked over the photographs displayed on shelves lining a wall of the makeshift photography studio.
"Thanks," Dylan replied modestly as he adjusted lights that were positioned around a small table on a white rug. A black backdrop hung on a wall behind it, and his camera sat on a tripod very close to one side of the table. He'd obviously used this set-up a lot for his art photography.
Having showered and dried off in Dylan's apartment, I didn't bother to dress. I strolled naked back into the studio, where I found him setting up for the photo shoot. While I waited, I passed the time looking over samples of his photography. Most of the photographs were in black-and-white, obviously inspired by Mapplethorpe. There were still life photos of plants and flowers as well as of everyday objects, like shoes, toys, and kitschy knick-knacks and souvenirs staged and photographed to look like works of art.
And then there were his photographic studies of the male body. Tasteful black-and-white photographs of thick hands, broad backs, curled arms, furry bellies... they were sensual without being outright erotic. And no nudes. Nothing that could be construed as pornographic.
"Okay, I'm ready," Dylan said, standing over the small table with his hands on his hips, admiring his staging.
"You don't mind that I'm naked, do you?" I asked as I walked over to him.
Dylan chuckled. "Not at all. Most of my models are nude when they pose for me. I won't photograph anything you don't want me to photograph."
"I'm an open book. You can ask me anything, and you can photograph anything." I sat cross-legged on the rug in front of the small table across from the camera. "How do you want me?"
"That's good," Dylan replied, kneeling and taking my hands in his. He flipped them over so that my palms were facing up and placed one on top of the other so that they overlapped, my fingers splaying out in all directions. "Okay, we'll start with this."
For the next several minutes, Dylan repositioned my hands in various positions and photographed them. He had me clasp them together, then had me interlace my fingers so it looked like I was praying. In between each position, he took a moment to contemplate the next hand position, always with an adorable, quizzical look on his face.
"You mind flexing your arm?" Dylan asked when it seemed like we'd exhausted every position for my hands.
"Sure," I answered, "though I have to warn you that there's not a lot of muscle to flex. I'm afraid is mostly fat."
Dylan grinned. "That's okay. It's still fucking sexy."
I bent my left arm, flexing my bicep as much as I could. Dylan went to his camera, looked through the viewfinder, and snapped a couple of photographs.
"That's great," he murmured. "Okay, hold that position." He took his camera off his tripod and moved in closer to me, snapping a few close-ups of my forearm and bicep.
When he lowered his camera and moved back, he saw that my cock was fully hard. Even though he was still fully clothed, just watching his adorable, chunky body moving around as he worked had seriously turned me on. Dylan grinned at the sight, and I took my arm off the table and leaned back to present my erection to him proudly.
"Oh, I think I'll need to take some shots of that," he said. "If you don't mind."
I smiled as I laid down on the rug. "I was hoping you'd say that."
Dylan set down his camera and pulled off his tank top to reveal his husky, fuzzy chest and pleasingly soft belly. He was an adorable fuzzball of a guy, looking every bit like the former fratboy that he was.
"Damn, you're cute," I remarked.
"Thanks, dude," Dylan replied, genuinely flattered, as he sat on the rug next to me. "You've got an incredible body. And an even more incredible cock."
I enjoyed being in such a vulnerable position in front of Dylan, lying naked on the rug with my dick hard as a rock while he looked over my body, trying to figure out how to photograph it. He reached out and wrapped the thick fingers of his right hand around my shaft. He then began to rub the shaft while staring at it with his dark, intense eyes.
"Such a beautiful cock," he murmured as he continued massaging the shaft. I moaned as it pulsed, and a bead of precum seeped from the tip and dripped over my cock head. "That's it." Dylan reached over and took my hand and moved it to my groin, positioning it so that my thumb and index finger were gripping the base of my cock, holding it so that my erection stood straight up from my body. "Yes, that's perfect."
He nodded, picked up his camera, and looked through the viewfinder, moving in for a close-up of my dripping, erect penis. He wanted to photograph it perfectly in profile. With a couple of clicks, he seemed to get what he wanted.
"Beautiful," he said as he lowered his camera, reached over with his left hand, and wrapped his fingers around my shaft again. He then began to jerk me off, causing my body to squirm uncontrollably. "I want you to cum for me," Dylan whispered as he pumped my cock with his fist. "I want to photograph your sperm spurting out of you."
"Yes, Dylan," I moaned, "I want to shoot for you so much." Having my body worshipped like this by such a beautiful, young cub made me feel sexy as hell. The whole situation aroused me to no end. By this point, Dylan's hand and my whole shaft were sticky with precum.
"Let me know when you're gonna cum," Dylan said, the fingers on his other hand gripping his camera, ready to raise it.
"Oh my god, Dylan," I groaned, "I'm gonna cum. I'm about to blow."
Dylan stopped masturbating me and moved my hand back to the base of my cock to hold it straight up again. He then raised his camera and focused it on the tip of my cock, which was twitching.
"Okay, do it now," he commanded.
Just being ordered to cum caused an orgasmic wave to roll through my body. I arched my body and cried out, and a thick, white fountain erupted from my cock. I heard Dylan's camera shutter clicking several times in rapid succession as jet after jet of jizz blasted out of my cock head and splattered back down, dripping down my shaft onto my hand below.
"Oh god," I whimpered as my climax subsided. "That felt so fucking good."
Dylan set down his camera. "I think I got some amazing shots. Thanks."
Even though I'd just cum, or perhaps because I'd just cum, I was eager to make Dylan blow his load, as well. I reached over with my jizz-coated hand and unbuttoned his cargo shorts. He seemed surprised, even though we'd spent the past couple of hours flirting, and he'd just giving me a handjob.
He didn't protest at all. In fact, as soon as I unzipped his shorts, he stood and quickly removed his shorts and underwear. As I guessed, his body was fuzzy all over, and though his already fully stiff cock was only average sized, it looked irresistibly delicious.
I was still lying on the rug watching him strip down, so once he was naked, Dylan knelt back down on his knees right next to my head. I turned my head to take his hard cock into my mouth, and he began to fuck my mouth with gentle, rhythmic thrusts.
Dylan moaned as he plunged his dick into my mouth, and I applied suction on his shaft as I swirled my tongue around it. "Oh fuck, dude," he groaned, clearly in heaven. "You're gonna make me cum so hard."
I enjoyed the sight of his hefty, fuzzy belly bouncing as he humped my face. He was a cuddly young cub who was destined to grow into a cuddly bear. I reached around his thrusting hips and ran my hand over his thick, fuzzy ass, enjoying the feel of its soft roundness. Sweat began dripping down his belly, which pressed against my face as he continued fucking my mouth.
He suddenly pulled his cock out of my mouth. "Can I fuck you?" he asked, breathing heavily.
I grinned. "Absolutely," I replied. "Pump your load into me."
As I laid back down on the rug, Dylan moved between my legs and lifted them up onto his broad shoulders. He pressed his slick, erect cock against my asshole and slid into me with ease. I watched an expression of sheer pleasure spread across his face as he plunged into my ass and started fucking me vigorously.
Having heard his stories of fucking his frat brothers back in college, I suddenly felt like I was back at the Delt House, getting fucked by one of my own burly frat brothers. Dylan's sweaty body looked incredibly sexy as he plowed my ass, and his face looked like he was utterly lost in pleasure. I knew that he was serious when he had said he was going to cum hard.
He ran his meaty hands over my own chubby belly and then squeezed my thick pecs. He was appreciating my body as much as I appreciated his. I found myself wondering whether he'd ever taken any photographs of his own body. I'd pay good money for a photo of his broad, sweaty chest or his big, fuzzy belly, both of which were shaking and heaving over me as he fucked my ass.
"I'm gonna cum," he groaned, nodding his head. "You're gonna make me cum."
"Yeah, man," I grunted back. "Shoot your load in me."
His face contorted as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Oh god!" he growled through gritted teeth, and then he let out a cry as he shoved his cock all the way into me.
Dylan's body stiffened and then shook, and I felt his hot jizz blasting out of his cock into my waiting ass, warming my guts. He spurted jet after forceful jet of cum into me, coating the wall of my ass with his sperm. He opened his mouth and wailed as his orgasm swept through his body.
Finally, his body went limp, and his sweaty torso sank forward onto me as he tried to regain his breath. He had his forehead pressed against my own sweaty chest.
I placed my hands on the sides of his head and raised it so that I could look at his adorable and grateful face, with his scruffy beard, tousled hair, and thick eyebrows. He smiled, his dazed eyes making him look even sleepier.
"Thanks," he said. "But I think you're gonna need another shower before you go."
I was toweling off from my second shower of the day at Dylan's apartment when he strolled into the bathroom, holding up a business card. To my delight, he was still naked, with cum still drying on his cock. He was probably planning to shower as soon as I was done.
"What's this?" I asked, taking the card and seeing the name "UNLIMITED EMPLOYMENT" written on it.
"It's a temp agency," he explained. "When I first moved to L.A., I had a hard time finding work, too. I ended up giving this agency a try, and within a couple of weeks they found me my first job. I thought they might be able to find you something."
I was actually touched by the gesture. "Thanks, man," I said. "I really mean it."
"When you call them, ask for Amir and tell him that I referred you." Dylan then smiled bashfully. "Also, let me have your number so I can let you know when the photos are ready. And in case you feel like having some more fun together."
I smiled back. "You can count on it."
I leaned into him, and we finally kissed for the first time.