"Sloan Cosgrove, Confessions of a Teenage Bear" is a 45- chapter novel in which a certain bearish college football player/ frat boy recalls his many sexual adventures and encounters.
All of fratbear's stories are available at: http://fratbear.tripod.com/
"Sloan Cosgrove, Confessions of a Teenage Bear" by fratbear (fratbear@excite.com)
Chapter 4: Surfing
For days, I had a hard time believing that I'd participated in my first circle jerk, with my football teammates, no less. And although we didn't talk about the experience we'd shared that afternoon, we were all suddenly a little bit closer. Our circle of friendship became more tightly-knit.
My dad was right again. I finally had a group of friends I could hang out with, chat about the Dallas Cowboys, hitch rides around town. Of course, we never talked about whether or not any of us were gay. We were just buddies.
On my fifteenth birthday, my dad got me a computer. We spent all day setting it up in my room, and another day figuring out how to connect to the Internet. I'd been using computers at school since the fifth grade, but with one in the privacy of my own room, a whole new world was suddenly open to me.
Now I'm not gonna get into a big debate over Internet porn and how easy it is for minors to access it, but I will say this: thank god I could. Within a matter of weeks, I was educated on all types of sex and sexuality. And I'd never even realized the variety of gay men there were out there.
Let's just say that I rarely surfed the net without one hand on my mouse and the other wrapped around my dick. I started jerking off a lot. And I mean really a lot. I could get home from school, toss off all my clothes, and shoot up to three loads before my dad got home. I just had to make sure not to make a mess of the keyboard.
It was also on my computer that I first learned that there was actually a term for guys like me: a bear. And I didn't learn it from any website of some bear organization or anything, either. Nope, my first introduction to bear sexuality was Sheriff Parker.
Now if you're not familiar with the series of Sheriff Parker stories floating around the web and newsgroups, then you probably won't understand what the big deal was. But think of it this way. I was a 6- foot-3, 280 pound giant, and up until then all I could seem to find were pictures of and stories about hairless, skinny, barely pubescent teenage boys fumbling their way to sexual ecstasy with their younger, skinnier brothers at summer camp. Not exactly something I could identify with.
Not until I met "Big Daddy" on the Internet. Sheriff Parker, the hairy 350-pound, cock-sucking, ass-fucking, cum-spurting Southern cop who regularly engaged in orgies with his fellow officers and any other bears he came across.
And for the first time I thought to myself, hey, if somebody took the trouble to write these stories, that means somebody likes to read these stories, which means that somebody must get turned on by these kinds of guys. And you know what? I was one of these kinds of guys. I was a bear.
That realization kept me on cloud nine for days, in between my rampant jerk-off sessions. My dad may have been my real-life hero on day-to-day matters, but when it came to sex, Sheriff Parker became my idol.
By sophomore year at Cicero High, everything was pretty much back to normal. Football was back. Nobody dared to mention the "incident" in the showers the previous year. And our little clan of linemen were all still buddies.
Meanwhile, I was entering the experimental portion of my life. I'd read about all this sex stuff on the Internet, but my opportunities to try them out were limited. There's only so much you can do by yourself.
And I did 'em all. I fucked my pillow until I soaked it with my spunk. I stuck my finger up my ass. It felt kind of weird. I later moved on to lubricating a frozen banana and slowly slipping it up my ass while jerking off. When I did that, I was able to shoot my cum into my mouth.
Though Mark must've swallowed gallons of my cum during the few months we fooled around together, I'd never actually tasted it, or that of any other guy, for that matter. I was a bit wary of it, cum being gooey and messy and all. But when I shot in my own mouth, I found it to be one of the most delicious juices I'd ever tasted. I wanted more. I just didn't know when I'd have a chance to get more.
It was near the end of sophomore year, just before Memorial Day, when I drove out to the big mall that had just opened in Fort Arthur. Dad had bought a new GMC Jimmy and given me his big old reliable pick-up truck on my sixteenth birthday. Since then, I'd been waiting for a chance to take it for a spin. The 50 miles to Fort Arthur seemed like a good outing. And it'd give me a chance to see the world outside of dusty ole Cicero.
For a couple of hours, it was just another lazy Saturday at the mall. I milled about, making my way through the throngs of shoppers, who naturally moved out of my way when they saw me coming towards them (it was just like the school hallways). I bummed around the record store a bit, picked up a couple of CDs. Went over to the bookstore and thumbed through a few magazines.
It was at the Gap, riffling through a stack of extra large Gap boxers, when I first noticed him. He was dressed like a typical married suburbanite, with a polo shirt and a pair of khaki shorts, clutching a Eddie Bauer shopping bag. But there was noticeable discomfort in his expression, as if he was profoundly embarrassed by his manner of dress. This had to do with the fact that he was built like a linebacker, my height but perhaps 30 pounds lighter.
His dark brown beard and hair were starting to gray, and he was going a little soft around the mid-section (one too many beers during Monday Night Football, perhaps), marking him as a man who was about to be dragged kicking and screaming into middle age. From the looks of it, and the gold wedding band on his finger, he probably had a big-haired, big- breasted, ball-bustin' Texan wife and two precocious, screaming kids scurrying around this mall.
I noticed his weary eyes on me as I picked out a pair of boxers. I looked at him, and for a brief instant, he flashed me a sad, questioning smile. He then turned and shuffled away.
I didn't really give him a second thought until I got to the cashier. I glanced back over to the lonely man, still on his way out of the store. He looked back over his shoulder at me, but seeing that I was staring right back at him, he quickly looked away and walked briskly out the store.
Strange, I thought. If I didn't know any better (actually, I didn't, being so inexperienced and all), I would've thought he was checking me out.
When I came out of the Gap, I looked around, faking casualness, scanning the crowds of shoppers. My world-weary friend was nowhere to be seen. My over-active imagination getting the best of me, I thought. Thinking that married middle-aged men were checking me out in the mall. Me and my teenage hormones. I needed to get home and whack off.
Of course, the moment that thought entered my head, I felt my dick starting to harden in my shorts. I covered myself up with my shopping bags as I merged into the crowd.
I was thumbing through racks of Dallas Cowboys jerseys and tee-shirts in a sporting goods store when I saw him again. He was standing a couple of aisles away, pretending to check out the prices on bathing suits. But I could see that he was really stealing glances at me.
I know I should have been creeped out. This dirty old bear had stalked me across to the mall all the way into the sporting goods store. All right, he wasn't really that old, but he had to be at least 20 years older than me.
But despite knowing that there was something really wrong about this situation, my erection pressed painfully against the constraints of my shorts.
The guy smiled at me again. I turned away, maybe a bit too abruptly, and walked out of the section, a football jersey in my hand. I'd always dreamed of getting picked up by a hot, horny bear in a public place, but truth be told, I really wasn't ready for it. My heart was thumping audibly as I searched for a means of escape.
I looked back. The man was peering around a corner at me. I walked away faster, but I realized that he might interpret this as a "follow me" signal, and I slowed down.
I needed to regain my composure. I made a bee-line for a dressing room in a corner of the store and went inside, closing and locking the rickety wooden door behind me.
I sat down on the bench inside and looked down at the football jersey in my hands as I tried to control my anxious breathing. I looked down at the gap at the base of the door, where a pair of Nike-covered feet paused at the door, jiggling the handle, before continuing on. Was that him, or was it just another customer?
I figured I should make it look convincing. I pulled off my tee-shirt, taking a second to check out my stocky frame in the mirror, then pulled on the jersey. Actually, it fit me pretty well. I looked myself over in the mirror, wondering what it'd be like to actually play for the Cowboys.
I was interrupted by the sound of a man coughing right outside the door. I looked down. The Nikes were back. He was waiting for me to let him inside.
I held my breath, stupidly thinking that maybe if he didn't hear me breathing, he'd go away. A million panicked thoughts raced through my head. Could I really have anonymous sex in a fitting room? What if somebody caught us? What about AIDS? I sure didn't have a rubber with me.
Amidst all these thoughts, though, I watched my shaking hand slowly reach for the lock on the door and unlatch it. I pulled the door open a crack, and just as I did, a meaty hand reached in, and the man slipped into the dressing room, pushing me back into a corner. He quickly closed the door and relocked it.
He turned and looked at me. The weariness in his eyes was replaced with a look of hunger and desperation. He dropped his shopping bags on the floor, grabbed me with both hands, and planted a sloppy, wet kiss on my mouth.
We steamed each other's faces with our hot breaths as I felt his tongue invade my mouth. His beard scratched against my skin, a feeling I'd never felt before. My mind was a haze as our burly chests rubbed up against one another.
He finally broke the kiss and stood back to take a good look at me. He stroked my cheek lovingly with the back of his hand as I looked at him with what must have been a really dumb look on my face,
He looked down at my heaving torso, covered in the silver and white football jersey. He ran his fingers across my broad chest, stopping to rub my nipples through the rough, unwashed cloth of the jersey. He then grabbed the tails of the jersey and started pulling it up. I got the hint and raised my arms to let him slide the jersey off and drop it to the floor.
There I stood, half-naked before a complete stranger. I sort of cowered, a bit self-conscious of my bearish body. But my fellow bear looked over my big body with a glow of desire in his eyes. I saw a large lump protruding from his shorts.
He bent over and suddenly started mauling my chest with his hot mouth and thick hands, chewing and lapping at my pecs. I looked down and inhaled the sweet scent of his hair as he explored my flesh with his mouth, his beard and mustache like sandpaper against my sensitive skin.
He moved up my body, clamping his hungry mouth on my neck like a vampire. I stuck my own tongue out and managed to lick off a bead of sweat that was starting to form on his temple. He then slid up and kissed me on the mouth again.
I heard the sound of a zipper being opened. It wasn't mine. Then I felt the man's arm jerking rhythmically between our bodies. I felt the head of his cock poking against my soft belly.
I stepped back from him and looked down at his purple six-inch cock as he pumped it in his right hand. He kept his other hand on my shoulder to support himself as he jerked off in front of me. He gritted his teeth and barely suppressed a primitive grunt.
I stared at the precum glistening on the head of his pounded dick. I wanted desperately to taste it. I opened my mouth a little to show my new friend that I wanted to try to suck him. I started to kneel down, but he quickly placed a hand under my chin and pulled me back to my feet.
I looked at him with my saddest puppy dog eyes, but he just smiled and shook his head. He wiped a dollop of his precum off his cockhead onto his index finger, then raised to up to my mouth. I put my mouth over his finger and sucked off the salty juice, savoring the taste.
He then pushed me aside, clearing off the bench and patting it with his hand. I understood. He wanted me to stand on the bench so that he could blow me.
The prospect of getting my first real blowjob excited me immensely. I stepped up onto the bench, the wood beneath my feet straining under my nearly 300 pounds.
The bear unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts, then yanked them and my boxers down to my ankles. My granite-hard erection sprang up before him. It, too, was coated with clear juice. He looked up at me and smiled appreciatively as he cupped my hanging hairy balls with his hand and massaged them.
I leaned back against the wall to prevent my legs from giving out from under me. I kicked off my shoes and let my shorts drop to the floor.
He took his time, running his finger through the coarse hair at the base of my cock. I looked down at him and hissed the first words uttered between us. "Please suck me."
The man opened his mouth and consumed half the length of my 8-inch dick in its moist heat. As he started sucking hungrily on my meat, a tingling coursed through my groin up into my belly. I clenched my eyes shut and bit my lip to prevent myself from letting out a cry of pleasure. The last thing I needed was for a sporting goods clerk to come knocking on the door.
It was obvious that he was far from capable of fitting my entire dick in his mouth, but for my first blowjob, it was just fine. His jaw muscles worked overtime to form a vacuum over my cock, as his tongue writhed around my cock, along the ridge of my cockhead, sending shivers up my spine.
I clutched his hair in my hands, too enthralled to realize that I was probably hurting him. And I bet that he still didn't mind the pain.
Sweat rolled down my chest and stomach. Despite the powerful air- conditioning in the mall, I was still sweating like a hog.
I saw my sweaty body from the neck down in the mirror across from me. My friend's head was bobbing at my crotch. I could see my big body trembling, my thick treetrunk-sized legs beginning to buckle.
I was getting off on looking at my own naked body. I ran my hands over my sweat-soaked stomach, kneading mounds of flesh in my fingers. The bear growled below me, and my dick vibrated in his mouth.
I felt the pressure building in my balls, even as he continued fondling them in his hand. My breathing became so intense that I was sure that it'd be audible outside the dressing room. I bit my lip even harder to stifle a grunt.
My temperature and pulse rose as the muscles in my groin tensed. I knew what that meant.
I reached up and pressed my palms flat against the ceiling above me, pushing hard to support myself as I thrust my hips out, arching my body towards the man as he continued sucking desperately.
I took a deep breath and held it as fireworks seemed to explode in my head. I felt my cock throb, and the first jet of my hot cum shot down his throat. He gulped it down as a growl finally escaped my throat. My body jerked as I pumped glob after glob of sperm down his ravenous gullet.
Finally, the waves of my orgasm subsided, and I fell back against the wall again, leaving a sweaty imprint in the white paint. I couldn't believe it. I'd just experienced my first blowjob. I breathed heavily as the guy sucked out the last of my cum and pulled my cock out of his mouth. It dropped lazily against my balls, which were dripping with sweat.
He smiled at me as he patted my damp, hairy stomach. I grinned back at him, wiping the sweat from my brow. I then stepped off the bench, my dick flopping around. I saw his cock still sticking out stiffly from his shorts, now practically dripping.
I started to kneel down again to suck it, but again he stopped me with a strong but gentle hand. He took my hand in his and guided it down to his erection. I got the hint and wrapped my fingers around his sticky rod. He opened his bearded mouth and smiled as I started massaging his cock in my hand. His precum smeared all over my wrist and palm as I gave this anonymous bear my first handjob.
Still naked, I sat on the bench to get a better grip on his dick. First I pulled his shorts down to his knees. Then, getting a good hold on the shaft, I pumped on it furiously. His breath became jagged as his legs started shaking. His balls slapped against my hand as I jerked him off.
He pulled up his shirt to reveal his hairy gut. I could see his stomach tightening as he neared his climax. He threw back his head and moaned.
I suddenly felt his dick grow stiffer in my hand. It pulsed, and a strand of white-hot cum spurted out and splattered my chest. His whole body quivered as he shot his load on my torso. It rolled down my body and mingled in my pubic hair.
Not all it landed on me, though. I chuckled to myself as I looked down and saw that some of the juice was falling onto the football jersey on the floor between us.
The bear stopped shivering as the last remnants of cum dripped from his cock onto the jersey.
My hand was also sticky with his cum. I looked at it for a moment, then lapped it up with my tongue, finally tasting another man's spunk for the first time.
"Whew," the bear said as he caught his breath. He spoke in a hushed tone. "Thanks, man, You're really hot."
He buttoned up his shorts and stepped away to let me see my naked, sweaty body in the mirror, my chest and stomach splattered with his cum.
"It's my first time," I mumbled.
"Really?" He was genuinely surprised. "How old are you?"
I considered lying for a moment, but I didn't. "Sixteen."
The guy looked a little apprehensive at first, but then he relaxed and smiled. "You're going places," he said as he knelt down and licked his own cum off my torso. His beard tickled, and I tried not to giggle as he cleaned me off.
He gave me one more deep kiss, and I could taste both of our juices in his mouth. Still kneeling, he pulled back and looked me over one last time.
"Be proud," he said, squeezing one of my pecs. "You're a stud."
I smiled back at him. He nodded and stood up, unlocking the door and peering out to make sure the coast was clear. He then slipped out. I reached over, locked the door again, and leaned back against the wall, looking down at my naked body and the cum-splotched Cowboys jersey on the floor.
I picked up the jersey and licked off the cum, knowing that it'd be the last time I tasted this particular flavor.
Of course I bought the jersey. The salesclerk's nose crinkled, perhaps from the pungent smell coming from it, but he didn't give it a second thought as he rang up the purchase.
And yes, I wore it all the way home.
- fratbear fratbear@excite.com http://fratbear.tripod.com/