"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 49: Festival
April 2012
"You're right," I remarked to Dylan as I slouched against the railing under the blazing hot sun and stared at the band setting up on the stage just a few feet away from us, "he is cute."
I was referring to the lead singer of The Dear Hunter, the band that was preparing to perform on the Outdoor Stage, the smaller of the two open-air stages at the Coachella Music and Arts Festival. It was almost 2:00 on a Friday afternoon, and temperatures had soared to over 100 degrees Fahrenheit. They were predicting that Saturday would be even hotter, breaking the record for the hottest day ever at the Coachella festival.
Dylan was in the photographer's/security pit between the railing and the stage, prepping his digital camera to shoot photos during the first three songs of the band's set. We were both dressed for the heat, in tee-shirts and cargo shorts, with brimmed fisherman's hats to shield us from the intense sun.
Dylan was the one who had first told me about The Dear Hunter, an indie prog rock band from Rhode Island that had been around for about seven years and had already released four albums. He knew that they were going to be at the festival and thought that I'd enjoy their music, and I did like what I heard, a combination of bombastic rock, soaring melodies, and almost jam band-like instrumental interludes.
But he also knew that I'd also enjoy watching the band and its charismatic singer Casey, a stout, chubby, brutish-looking bear of a man with shaggy, almost black hair and an unruly beard who also had a voice that could go from a delicate whisper to an intimidating scream in seconds. He was dressed in jeans and a tight purple tee-shirt that hugged his thick torso as he set up his guitar and tested his microphone.
"Check out the drummer, too," Dylan said to me as he took a few photos of the band as they set up. "It's his brother."
Sure enough, the drummer Nick was an even more brutish looking bear than his lead singer brother, with intense, glaring eyes and a long beard. I knew this was going to be a fun band to watch.
Despite appearances, Dylan and I were both at Coachella for work. Obviously, Dylan was there to photograph the festival. It was his fifth time at Coachella, and for years he'd been trying to convince me to go with him. Despite my love of concerts and live music, I could never motivate myself to take the time off work and book a trip to the festival, even with Dylan as my guide.
That all changed when Bare Power, the energy drink company that I'd taken on as a client at HartBPM a little more than a year earlier, told me that they wanted to target their product to a younger and hipper demographic. Coachella was about to announce their 2012 lineup, and I saw the opportunity to launch a new campaign at the festival.
I came up with the idea to have young brand ambassadors fan out across the festival to hand out free Bare Power merch and ice-cold energy drinks. HartBPM would not only pay these young people, but they'd also buy them festival passes and pay for their hotel rooms or festival campground passes. They would spend the day marketing for us, but once the sun went down, they were free to enjoy the bands and the festival.
Once I proposed the idea, it took three months of negotiations with the Coachella promoters to become a festival sponsor and to get permission for my promotional stunt. The festival took place over two weekends, with an identical line-up on both weekends. During negotiations, the festival told us that weekend two was less in demand and would cost us less to sponsor, so I decided to target that weekend. Since we'd never done such a campaign at HartBPM, it made sense to treat it more as a test.
Of course, I would go to the festival to supervise. Dylan was thrilled to hear that I was going, and we immediately agreed to carpool together to the festival and share a hotel room with a single king-sized bed. Even though Dylan was my best gay friend in L.A. and my most reliable fuck buddy, this would the first time we'd ever taken any kind of vacation together.
Dylan and I drove out to Coachella in my Prius on Thursday evening and checked into our hotel. It happened to be my 33rd birthday, so we had a nice dinner together before retiring to our room, where of course we had a nice romp in our bed. We knew we wanted to get up early and have a huge breakfast before leaving for day one of the festival on Friday.
After parking and making the long trek to the gates of the festival, we met up with our team of a dozen young, enthusiastic brand ambassadors at a special entrance that was also reserved for VIPs. We'd already had training sessions back in L.A., so all I really needed to do before setting them loose on the festival grounds was to pump them up with a little pep talk and remind them to have fun.
Fortunately for me, my work was pretty much done for the day, and I was free to enjoy the festival, which is how I ended up at the Outdoor Stage with Dylan to see The Dear Hunter for the first time, swooning over the lead singer and the drummer as they prepared, though I could have been swooning because of the heat.
Or maybe it was because of the hulking, bearded, middle-aged musclebear wearing khakis and a dark blue polo shirt emblazoned with the word "SECURITY," the shirt straining against his thick muscles, brawny chest, and big, round belly. He was chatting to two other smaller security guards, apparently telling them where they should stand during the upcoming set.
"Who the fuck is THAT?" I whispered to Dylan.
Dylan smiled. "Oh, that's just Paul, the head of security for this stage. Nice guy, despite appearances." He saw me practically drooling as I stared at the lumbering behemoth of man. "And yes, he's gay."
"You know this first-hand?" I asked.
Dylan grinned proudly. "Better believe it."
We both looked over at Paul. As if he sensed that we were gossiping about him, he looked over at us with what looked like a mean glare. However, when he recognized Dylan, a surprisingly warm smile appeared on his face, and he gave us a little wave.
"Tell you what," Dylan said, waving back. "Meet me after the set over there by the stage, and I'll introduce you."
As if on cue, the sustained sounds of droning guitars began blaring over the speakers as the band launched into the first song of their set, and Dylan joined the rest of the photographers at the front of the stage to start snapping photos.
"Nice to meet you, Sloan," Paul the security giant said in a deep voice, crushing my hand in his gigantic hand as he shook it. "Dylan's told me a lot about you."
"I don't know whether to be flattered or scared," I replied, glancing over at Dylan.
We were in Paul's air-conditioned security trailer behind the Outdoor Stage. The Dear Hunter's 45-minute mid-afternoon set had been thrilling, but I had spent most of it daydreaming about what was going to happen after it ended. No one could tell that I had a solid erection that was straining to burst out of my cargo shorts during the duration of the set, fueled by thoughts of Paul and what he was packing in those khaki pants.
As Dylan had suggested, I met him at the side of the stage after the end of the set. He flashed his ID badge at the young, nervous security guard standing next to a gate in the security barrier, and a minute later, Dylan and I found ourselves standing in Paul's trailer, where he was busy looking over a map of the festival grounds.
"Dylan tells me it's your first Coachella," Paul said.
"First big festival of any kind, actually," I replied.
"Of course, his first time happens to be the hottest ever," Dylan chimed in.
Paul chuckled. "Well, happy to provide you a bit of relief."
He was referring to the air conditioning, of course, but he reached out with his giant hand and took off my hat, then grabbed my tee-shirt and pulled it off me, exposing my torso, already sweaty from standing under the blazing sun.
"Hope you don't mind if we get right to it," he explained. "I've got to get back to work, and I'm sure you've got more bands you want to catch." He smiled as he ran his rough hand over my chest, and I thought I might just cum in my shorts right then and there.
"I could enjoy this air conditioning a little longer," I said as I reached down and pulled Paul's polo shirt up and over his head.
Paul's body was massively thick, like that of a mythical ogre, packed with muscles from years of lifting weights, but also fat from years of eating. He wasn't as hairy as I'd been expecting, with only a light dusting of fur on his chest.
As soon as he was freed from his shirt, Paul pulled me to him and kissed me hard on the mouth as we wrapped our arms around each other. Our chests and bellies pressed together as we kissed eagerly.
And then I felt bare, furry skin press against my back and hot breath on the back of my neck. I realized that Dylan had stripped off his tee-shirt and was now kissing my neck and back as he reached around me and unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts. He pushed my shorts and boxers down and grasped my stiff cock in his hand, massaging it as he continued kissing my back, his beard scratching against my skin.
He then managed to undo his own shorts and drop them to the floor, and soon I felt the head of his hard erection prodding against my ass. I moaned as Paul and I continued to make out like high schoolers in the back seat of a car. I reached between our bodies and unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his khakis, and pushed them down.
Paul's erect cock almost fell right into my hand, and I eagerly wrapped my fingers around it and began pumping the shaft with my fist. It was surprisingly average in size for someone with such a huge body, but it felt like it fit perfectly in my hand. Paul groaned as I masturbated him while our tongues explored each other's mouths.
And then I felt Dylan's cock head pressing against my asshole. He had lubed himself up while I had been jerking off Paul, and sure enough, Dylan pushed his cock into me and slid all the way into my body. I squeezed my eyes shut and groaned as he began fucking me as we all stood there in the security trailer.
When I opened my eyes, I saw Paul staring back at me, getting off on the look of bliss in my eyes as Dylan pounded me. I finally broke our kiss and pushed Paul back, allowing him to step out of his pants so that he stood naked before me, his rock-hard cock pointing right at me, red and swollen and dripping with precum.
As Dylan gripped my sides and continued fucking me, I leaned forward and swallowed Paul's engorged cock, sucking on it hungrily as he let out a primal growl. He began to thrust his hips, fucking my mouth. Dylan reached around and began jerking me off as he and Paul fucked me from both ends.
"Hey Paul," Dylan finally said, sweat pouring down his fuzzy chest. "You really should have a piece of this ass." I felt him pulling his cock out of me.
"Don't mind if I do," Paul replied happily as he pulled out of my mouth and walked around me. With barely a moment of preparation, he shoved his erect pole into my ass and began pounding my ass with even more fervor than Dylan.
Dylan fell to his knees and took my cock in his mouth, and I felt his tongue swirling around my shaft and the ridge of my cock head, expertly stimulating it as he applied just the right amount of suction on it to make me howl with joyous lust as Paul continued to slam his rod into me repeatedly.
I felt Paul's hot breath on my neck as he pulled my body against his and growled in my ear. "I hear you have experience getting double-fucked."
"Yeah," I grunted back.
Wrapping his arms around me, Paul pulled me down to the floor, forcing Dylan to stop blowing me. Dylan didn't mind, though, because he quickly understood what Paul had in mind. With his cock still buried deep in my ass, Paul laid down on the floor on his back with me lying on my back atop his massive body. Paul spread both of our legs apart.
"Dylan," Paul growled, "you know what to do."
Dylan looked down at me with a mischievous grin as he kneeled down between our spread legs, grabbed my ankles, and lifted them up. I bent my legs up to give him access to my asshole, which was already stuffed with Paul's stiff shaft.
"Come on, Dylan," I moaned. "I want to feel both of you in me."
"Fuck..." was all Dylan could respond with as he guided his cock to my asshole and managed to push it into me.
I moaned in both pain and pleasure as I felt the muscles of my ass stretching to let Dylan's cock into my body. Paul cried out as he felt Dylan's shaft sliding against his until both of their cocks were buried completely in my ass.
"You okay?" Dylan asked as he looked into my eyes, which were tearing up from the intense sensation.
"I'm good," I replied. "Fuck me, Dylan. I want both of you to fill my ass with your cum."
Dylan grinned and began to hump his big hips, fucking me while also stimulating Paul's shaft. I felt Paul's body shivering and trembling beneath me as grunts and sighs escaped his mouth. Dylan leaned forward and kissed me hard on the mouth as he began fucking me furiously, almost like a jackrabbit.
"Oh god, oh fuck," Paul groaned as all of our bodies dripped with sweat despite the powerful air conditioning. We were a heaving, drenched mass of bare flesh, even though Dylan was the only one who was really moving.
Dylan got back up into an upright position, pushing my legs back so that he could fuck my ass even deeper and with more force. I cried out from pure ecstasy.
And then Dylan grabbed my bouncing, hard dick and began to pump it in rhythm with his fucking. I felt my precum begin to flow out of my cock over his fist as he jerked me off.
"Oh god, Dylan," I howled, "you're gonna make me cum."
"Yeah, Sloan," Dylan grunted. "Shoot for me."
Choked cries escaped from my mouth as waves of pleasure rolled through my body. My swollen cock pulsed as it erupted with ropes of white jizz that splattered across my belly. Dylan had a big smile on his face as he chuckled at the sight of my cum blasting out of me. But then his mouth formed into a big "O" as a rapturous look filled his face. I realized that he was reacting to the sensation my ass contracting around his thrusting cock as I came.
Paul was a bit more vociferous with his reaction. "Holy fucking shit!" he roared as the muscles of my ass squeezed both of their cocks. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna blow!"
I watched as Dylan's mouth twisted into a snarl, and he let out a grunt as I felt both shafts begin to throb in my ass, spewing thick blasts of hot spunk into my guts. Paul and Dylan both groaned and growled, their bodies shaking as they coated my insides with their sperm. I enjoyed watching Dylan's face lost in the throes of his orgasm as his thick, fuzzy body writhed and trembled.
Both Dylan and Paul gasped as they finished shooting their loads into my bowels, and we all finally stopped moving. I just lay there on my back on top of Paul's hulking body, trying to regain my breath with my belly splattered with my cum, two cocks still embedded in me, and semen dripping out of my ass.
Finally, Paul was the first to speak. "You're right, this IS the hottest Coachella ever."