"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/
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"Sloan Cosgrove 2, Confessions of a Middle-Aged Bear"
by fratbear (thefratbear@yahoo.com)
Chapter 36: Pride
August 2006
"You're cute," I said to the short, stocky bear with the mustache and thick stubble who had joined me in the cramped, dark video booth that was playing a European gay porn flick on a flickering TV screen.
"Thanks, you, too," he said with a distinct Southern drawl. "You're American, too?"
"Yeah," I replied, "from L.A. I'm Sloan. You here for Pride?"
"Yeah, all the way from Alabama. I'm Mike."
"It's my first time outside of the States," I said almost apologetically.
"So of course you end up hooking up with an American, anyway." Mike and I both laughed at the irony.
I leaned down slightly so that we could kiss as we ran our hands over each other's fully clothed bodies. As we made out, I thought that he did remind me of another Mike, the bear I met during my first visit to a sex club back in Los Angeles. Only this Mike was from the Deep South, and we were groping each other in the basement of a sex shop in Amsterdam, of all places. I had just flown halfway around the world to make out with a guy whom I could've grown up with.
I didn't have much time to contemplate this, though, because soon we were both unzipping each other's cargo shorts, the uniform of the American summer tourist in the Netherlands. We reached into each other's shorts, pulled out our already stiff cocks, and started furiously masturbating one another as we moaned and kissed hungrily.
The small video booth started to get hot and humid from our heavy breathing, and we were both sweating even though we were dressed in light summer clothing. We pulled apart so that we could look down at our cocks in our hands.
Mike's erect dick was short and stout, just like him, but it was maybe the hardest penis I'd ever felt. It was like my fingers were wrapped around a granite rod.
"Oh god," Mike groaned as I pumped on his shaft. He squeezed his eyes shut and threw back his head. "I'm gonna cum."
As he let out a deep sigh, his cock began throbbing in my hand and shot powerful jets of hot, white jizz that splattered across my forearm. Mike's body shook as he grunted and continued pumping out more of his juices, making a mess of my hand and arm, not to mention the floor of the video booth.
Even as he was in the throes of a powerful orgasm, Mike continued to jerk off my cock. My admittedly large cock looked downright massive in his short, fat fingers, which slid back and forth across my shaft.
I was overwhelmed by the sight of this stocky Southern bear lost in ecstasy, and just as he spurted a few last drops of sperm into my hand, my own body heaved, and my cock shot a blast of cum that flew past Mike's arm and splattered onto his shorts.
"Oh fuck, sorry," I groaned even as I was still shooting thick ropes of white fluid that streaked across Mike's forearm and splashed onto the walls and floor.
As my orgasm subsided, we grinned as we caught our breaths and looked down at the mess of semen we'd made. The walls of the video booth were literally dripping with our cum.
"That was a five-day load." Mike said, chuckling. "I hope they have a good clean-up crew here."
"Especially this weekend," I replied, raising my hand and licking off some of Mike's load. "Yeah, three-day load for me. This is my first time at one of these places. What's the etiquette about cleaning up cum?"
"Aw, they'll take care of it. We can clean ourselves off in the restroom." Mike then looked at his watch. "You gonna watch the Canal Parade?"
"Yeah," I replied. "My hotel's on the Prinsengracht. You want come watch from my room and have some more fun?"
"Sure," Mike answered, his cute face brightening at the prospect of spending more time with me.
We exited the video booth into the dark hallway of the video arcade and sex club. After we washed the cum off our hands and arms in the restroom, we climbed the stairs back into the light of Amsterdam's largest and most popular gay boutique, where you could buy everything from fetish porn DVDs and vintage gay porn magazines to leather harnesses, sex swings, whips, and stylish trenchcoats. I'd been to sex shops back home in West Hollywood, but none as large and downright luxurious as this one, and none with a sex club in the basement.
It was late Saturday morning on the first weekend of August, Amsterdam's annual Gay Pride Weekend, and the street outside the boutique, the Damrak, already one of the city's most popular tourist strips, was packed with tourists, gay and straight.
I'd been hearing for years that Amsterdam was the gay capital of Europe, so earlier in the year, when I realized that I was financially secure enough to finally take a vacation, I decided to make Amsterdam the destination of my first-ever trip outside of the United States, a two-week adventure that would also include a few days in Paris and London via high-speed TGV and Eurostar train journeys before flying home.
Three other things sealed my decision to go to Amsterdam: Reggie told me that everyone there spoke English; the timing of my trip coincided with Pride Weekend and their world-famous Canal Parade; and I found an incredible deal on a hotel room overlooking the Prinsengracht canal, where the parade would take place.
I arrived in Amsterdam on Thursday, slept off the jet lag that night, and then spent Friday being a typical tourist, exploring the famous Red Light districts of Amsterdam, Zeedijk and Warmoesstraat, as well as the Reguliersdwarsstraat, a popular gay tourist strip. And of course I visited a "coffee shop," where I purchased a cheap pipe and lighter and smoked hash for the first time. I spent the rest of the night wandering around the streets and canals of the city in a dazed, euphoric stupor.
I was going to be in Amsterdam until the following Wednesday, so I was planning to save all the usual cultural stuff, the museums and historic sites, until after Pride Weekend, which I was devoting to gay stuff. That included exploring the city's numerous gay sex shops and boutiques.
That's how I ended up in the boutique on the Damrak, which wasn't even a gay area, though it was home to several gay businesses. I was initially drawn into the store by the window display of fetish gear and stylish fashion wear for gay men, and when I went into the store, I was surprised to find that it resembled a department store more than the adult bookstores and porno shops back home.
And that's when I saw the sign behind the counter that just said "CLUB" with some prices in Euros listed underneath and an arrow pointing towards a stairwell in the back of the store.
"What's that?" I asked the clerk behind the counter, pointing to the sign.
"Sex club downstairs," he replied. From his surprised tone, it sounded like he didn't get asked this a lot.
I was astounded to learn this. Nothing on the outside of the store indicated that there was a sex club inside. And of course my DK guidebook made no mention of it.
"Would you like to try?" the clerk asked. "Only twelve Euros."
That was cheaper than the sex clubs and bathhouses back in Los Angeles, so I decided to give it a try. And that's how I ended up in the video booth with Mike, the cute mustached bear from Alabama.
By the time Mike and I returned to my hotel on the Prinsengracht, the canal was lined with people waiting for the Canal Parade. Even more than the gay pride parades back home, Canal Pride was popular not just with gays but also with straights, kids, and entire families.
The Canal Parade was exactly what it sounds like, a gay pride parade with floats and everything, but here the floats literally floated, built atop Amsterdam's famous canal boats that would then float down the Prinsengracht canal. Many of the canal boats were populated by half-naked (and sometimes almost completely naked) gays dancing, celebrating, and generally having a festive time.
And my hotel room, a fourth-floor corner suite with pink and red décor that looked like it hadn't been altered since the 19th Century, just happened to have windows with views of the Prinsengracht in both directions.
After quick showers in my hotel room, Mike and I tumbled onto the large bed and spent a good half an hour just making out and exploring each other's bodies with our hands and mouths. Mike had a beautiful, stocky body, with thick muscles cushioned by layers of soft fat. He looked like he might have been a weightlifter who had just stopped working out years earlier, now in his thirties and content with being a thick-bodied bear covered in dark brown fur.
It'd been ages since I'd been able to cuddle with someone for a while; almost all of my sexual encounters over the past few years had been sudden, fleeting, and intense. It was nice to just lie in bed with an adorable bear. I ran my tongue all over Mike's furry body, stopping to worship his cock for several minutes before flipping him over onto this stomach and flicking his furry asshole with my tongue.
I was busy tonguing his ass at around 1:00 in the afternoon when the sounds of the crowd outside the open windows of my hotel room suddenly grew louder, mixed with the approaching sound of throbbing disco and dance music. The parade of floats on the canal were finally nearing the hotel.
"Let's go watch," Mike said, rolling over and getting out of bed. He walked over to the large, hinged window in the corner of the hotel room, opened it wide, and leaned out. He beckoned me over. "Come over here. No one can tell we're naked."
It was true, the wall beneath the window hid the lower half of our bodies from the view of the people on the streets and canal below. I joined Mike, and we both got down on our knees so that we could rest our arms on the windowsill and watch the canal boats floating past, dozens of gays partying on each one. Clouds of confetti and streamers exploded from cannons on the floats and hung in the air over the canal.
While we watched, I reached down and began to finger Mike's asshole. He closed his eyes and moaned as I pushed a finger into him and fucked him with it for a couple of minutes.
"Can I fuck you?" I whispered into his ear.
"Please," he growled in response.
As he rested his head on his folded arms on the windowsill, watching the jubilant crowds enjoying the parade, I pressed my lubed, erect cock against his asshole, already relaxed by my finger, and pushed it into him. He let out a guttural groan as I filled his ass with my shaft and began sliding in and out of him. We were both on our knees as we fucked, and I was able to look over his shoulder at the Canal Parade below.
I held Mike's shoulders as I plowed into him with steady thrusts, and I was certain that anyone looking up and seeing us would immediately be able to tell that we were passionately fucking, especially with the look of sexual pleasure on Mike's face. Fortunately, no one was looking in our direction, not with all of the excitement happening on the canal. And with the loud music pumping from the floats and the celebratory screams and shouts from the crowd, no one could hear the loud cries of joy and ecstasy that poured from our mouths.
I pumped my shaft into his ass harder and faster as I felt my second orgasm of the day building in my balls. "I'm gonna cum," I grunted into Mike's ear.
"Yeah, shoot it in me!" he cried out.
I opened my mouth wide and roared as my cock began to pulse, blasting jet after jet of my sperm into Mike's body. I continued to fuck him fervently even as I was cumming, slowing my thrusts only when I'd ejaculated my last bit of semen into him.
"Oh god," Mike moaned, enjoying the feeling of his guts filling with my hot jizz. "That's so fucking hot."
He had reached down and was now jerking his own stiff cock with his fist. I watched the thick muscles in his back flexing, and his ass muscles were squeezing my cock as he neared his climax.
"I'm gonna cum," he whispered.
I pulled my cock out of his ass and squeezed his shoulder. "Cum on my face," I urged him.
Mike stood up and turned to face me. Still on my knees, I tilted my head back and opened my mouth wide. I watched with glee as Mike jerked off right over my face, and I could see the expression on his face changing as he reached his orgasm.
Mike snarled as white ropes of cum shot out of his cock and coated my face. I moved down so that some of the blasts flew right into my waiting mouth. His sweaty, furry body shook as he came, seemingly looming over me even though he was a full half a foot shorter than me.
As his orgasm came to an end, I engulfed the end of his cock with my mouth and sucked out the rest of his sperm. His legs were trembling, and when he couldn't take it, anymore, he pulled out of my mouth and sank to his knees again.
"You're a mess." He chuckled, looking at the sticky mess of white fluid splattered across my face, already drying in my beard.
"You want to clean me up?"
Mike had a mischievous glint in his eye as he grinned and started licking up his own sperm off my face. When he was done, we kissed hungrily until a loud cheer erupted from the crowd outside.
"You think they're cheering for us?" Mike asked.
We laughed, then went back to the window to watch the rest of the parade.