Date: Wed,  2 Jan 2008 13:22:26 -0500 (EST)
From: fratbear <fratbear@excite.com>
Subject: Sloan Cosgrove, Chapter 13 of 45

"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://www.geocities.com/fratcub/

******

"Sloan Cosgrove, Confessions of a Teenage Bear"
by fratbear (fratbear@excite.com)


Chapter 13: Senior Week

"You think we'll get laid this weekend?" Tucker asked Tony and me as we
loaded up my pick-up with suitcases, sleeping bags, bags of Doritos, and
cases of beer. Bobby and Frank helped Zack pile more suitcases into the
trunk of his gas-guzzling, baby shit-green 1983 Buick Century. The mood was
a bit somber, since we knew that this would probably be the last time the
whole gang would be together for this sort of adventure.

I doubt many people share the sentiment, but I was pretty bummed to see my
high school years come to a close. Sure, I'd had my share of the usual teen
angst about my sexuality, the physical changes to my body, and my fears of
what lay ahead. But then again, the end of high school meant the end of my
Friday nights at the Dairy Queen, hanging out with my buddies. It meant the
end of the best friendships I'd ever known.

A few weeks before graduation, I had finally received an acceptance letter
from Southern Texas University. Not my first choice for higher education,
but the school had offered me a full football scholarship, something that
none of my fellow teammates at Cicero High had been offered. Apparently,
one of STU's scouts had seen me play the previous fall and had jotted my
name in his "consider" column. And let's face it, STU ain't exactly Notre
Dame, so the "considers" soon became the "contenders."

It wasn't a hard decision for me to accept their offer, but it meant that
I'd be leaving my old life behind. Tucker was going back to his old
stomping grounds in Arkansas for college. Zack and Tony were headed off to
Austin. Bobby was going to agricultural school, and Frank didn't even have
plans for college, deciding instead to work at his father's meat-packing
plant.

Now more than ever, our senior week jaunt to Galveston after graduation
became crucial to our lineman clique. It was gonna be our one final blast
before we all split up to venture into the real world.

"So, are we gonna get laid or what?" Tucker repeated his question. Neither
Tony nor I had bothered answering him the first time.

"Hell, yeah," Tony finally sighed. "But I don't want to jinx it. Besides,
we'll always have Sloan here in case we can't get some."

"Fuck you," I snarled with a grin, punching him playfully in the gut.

"You already did," he shot back. "Remember?" Sadly, that was probably going
to be the most clever thing that Tony would ever say in his entire life.

"Hey," Zack called out to us. "Quit jerkin' off and get ready to move out."

***

The motel in Galveston was called the Royale, but there was nothing
remotely royal about it. We probably shouldn't have let hapless, dim-witted
Tony handle the lodging selection and reservations, but the rest of us were
just too lazy to do it ourselves. I guess we should have been grateful that
the dumb lug didn't book us at a place where you paid by the half hour. And
luckily, the place was located right across the street from a prime stretch
of beach.

It was one of those hot, muggy southeastern Texas coastal days, the kind
that are so frequent during the transition between spring and summer. Since
we were checking in right around mid-afternoon, the first thing we did was
change into our bathing suits and head off onto the sun-baked beach armed
with towels, footballs, and a cooler of beer.

Things sure felt a lot different than the last time I had been to the
beach. Whereas previous outings had been consumed by self-conscious
thoughts about my oversized frame, now I strolled across the hot sands
without the slightest care about whether people were disturbed by the sight
of my hefty body packed into a pair of swim trunks. Hey, at least I wasn't
wearing Speedos.

As we searched for a place to set up camp, my eyes were automatically drawn
to the glistening, well-oiled figure of a stocky muscle bear lying nearby
on a fluorescent yellow towel, his pale skin slowly tanning as it absorbed
the sun's rays. As we passed him, he slowly turned and raised his head to
get a better look at us. A pair of mirrored sunglasses prevented me from
determining which of us he was focusing on, and from the distance I
couldn't tell his age. I looked over his densely furred chest and stomach,
then at the lump in his baggy trunks, baggy enough so I couldn't tell
whether he was aroused.

None of the other guys noticed him, and even my own attention was
distracted by the bottle of beer that Zack thrust into my hand as we staked
out a piece of the beach.

We spent the afternoon tossing the football, chugging beers, and wading out
into the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico. By five o'clock, I was reeking
of polluted salt water and in serious need of a restroom break.

The public restroom was one of those concrete buildings you often find at
the beach, and as I entered, there was the distinct sound of water running
in an adjacent shower room. I noticed a familiar pair of baggy trunks and a
towel sitting on a bench in the changing area, and as I passed by the
shower room, I glanced in, seeing that the sunbathing muscle bear from
earlier was now rinsing the sand and sunscreen from his newly-tanned skin.

He looked right at me and smiled warmly, and I knew that he'd caught me
sneaking a peek at his naked, husky frame. I quickly looked away and
proceeded to a urinal, trying to get the image of the muscle bear's body
out of my mind, lest I get a painful erection while draining myself.

But I couldn't get the image out of my mind. The absence of his sunglasses
had revealed a pair of friendly gray eyes, a fresh clean-shaven face, and a
mop of dusty brown hair that pegged him as either a high school student or
a recent graduate. But while his face was that of an innocent schoolboy,
his body was that of a man. He must've been at least half a foot shorter
than me, but his chest was probably just as thick as my own. His furry
stomach was thick and round, but without a hint of flab. This was someone
who must've worked hard to build the body he had.

If it wasn't evident with his powerful torso, then it was obvious with his
arms. This stocky bear had the thickest arms I'd ever seen. With those
arms, he probably would've been able to lift... well... ME.

It was no use, because by the time I flushed the urinal, my cock had
already hardened into a solid pole. I stuffed it back into my trunks,
creating a tent in the fabric that wouldn't go down.

I turned to find the muscle bear standing at the entrance to the showers,
toweling off his stout, dripping wet body. I had been so focused on trying
to prevent my hard-on that I hadn't even noticed that the shower had been
shut off.

"Do I know you?" he asked me, and I couldn't tell whether he was being
friendly or wary.

My eyes were drawn to his soft penis dangling between his legs. I could've
been imaging things, but for a moment I could've sworn I saw them pulse,
the first sign of an impending erection.

There was no way he could've missed the protrusion at the front of my
trunks, but I decided to answer as if nothing was odd about the
situation. "I don't think so." And it was the truth, because I definitely
would've remembered meeting someone like him.

"You're not a powerlifter?" he asked.

"A power-what?" I asked, although I vaguely knew about the sport of
powerlifting.

"I thought I might've seen you at one of the tournaments."

"Naw, I don't lift," I answered.

"Well, you look like you should," he said, grinning. "I've been doing it my
whole life."

I nodded, finally realizing that he was interested in making a new
friend. "Yeah, you got pretty impressive arms."

He flexed his biceps, which inflated to near inhuman sizes. "Takes a lot of
work. I have a hard time believing that your arms came naturally."

"Well," I finally admitted, "I do have to work out every now and
then. Football, y'know."

He dried his groin with the towel. By the time he was finished, I could see
that his dick had begun to swell. "Name's Griff, by the way. Griff Fuchs."

"I'm Sloan," I replied, wondering what to say next. As it turns out, Griff
was ready to break the ice.

"I see I'm not the only one who's feeling horny," he remarked
mischievously, pointing out my bulge. "Don't worry, it's senior week. We're
supposed to be a bunch of horny teenagers."

"You just graduated, too?" I asked.

He nodded. "I'm from Houston. Well, a suburb, anyway."

"My buddies and I came down from Cicero. You've probably never heard of
it."

"No, I haven't," Griff replied, then asked tentatively, "So, you're here
with friends?"

"Yeah," I said, scratching my belly, feeling more at ease, "but they're all
gonna be getting drunk and finding chicks to screw."

"And you're not into that."

"Well, I like getting drunk." I don't know if I was trying to be clever or
coy, but Griff seemed to be getting off on it.

After a moment, he wagged his head in the direction of the showers. "Hey,
you want to get cleaned off?"

I gulped and nodded. "Sure."

He turned to lead me to the showers, and I saw that his lower back was
lightly-haired while his upper back was almost completely smooth. His ass
and legs were like the rest of his body... thick, hairy, and tight.

I kept my trunks on as I rinsed my body under the warm water. Griff stood
off to the side, watching me with great interest. His hand wandered down to
his now fully-erect cock, which stuck out six inches in front of
him. Smiling and nodding to me, he enveloped his shaft with his hand and
started pulling on it steadily.

I knew I had to take advantage of the moment, so I turned off the shower,
walked up to Griff, and dropped to my knees, plunging his penis into my
waiting mouth.

"Damn," he grunted in amazement as I sucked hungrily, tasting some of the
saltiness of the sea still on his rod. "I didn't think I'd be doing this
when I got up this morning."

Griff leaned up against a wall to support himself, and to keep an ear open
for anyone who might wander into the restroom.

I hadn't sucked anyone off since my impromptu birthday party in the locker
room, and I was enjoying the feeling of Griff's silky shaft slipping across
my tongue and lips. He groaned and clenched my hair in his hands, thrusting
his hips, desperately fucking my face.

The first thing I realized was that Griff liked his sex rough. With his
fingers dug into my scalp, he pounded his dick in and out of my mouth with
such vigor that I was afraid he was gonna break my nose with his firm,
round belly. I could smell an unusual, sweet scent on his skin, a blend of
coconut-scented sunscreen, floral-scented bath soap, and manmusk-scented
sweat. I found myself thinking that if I could package this wonderful scent
in a bottle, I could make a killing.

My hands had a firm grip on the back of Griff's amazingly beefy,
heavily-furred thighs, clinging to them as he pounded my face like a
jackhammer, his balls smacking against my chin with each powerful
thrust. The two of us were lost in our own little world, unaware of
anything outside the shower room, not caring that at any moment some
unsuspecting beach-goer could walk in and witness something that was
probably illegal in the state of Texas.

This blowjob was going to be a quickie, and Griff and I both knew
it. Within a scant two minutes, he was moaning up a hell of a storm, until
he suddenly started gasping for air and clutching my hair tightly.

With a whimper and a cry, he rammed his cock to the hilt and started
spurting bursts of hot sperm right down my throat. I choked it down,
letting the warmth fill my belly. His cock pulsed again and again, pumping
more juice into my mouth until I lost track of how much of it he was
churning out. He probably hadn't shot a load in a couple of days, and I was
reaping the benefits in the form of a veritable meal of hot cum.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Griff gasped with a big, ecstatic grin on his face as
he fucked my mouth for a few more seconds, then stopped, his body shivering
from the experience. I sucked on his cockhead, making sure that I wasn't
letting a single drop go to waste.

Licking my lips, I finally let his dripping dick slipped out of my
mouth. Griff looked down at me, shaking his head. "That was incredible," he
moaned. "And completely crazy."

"Yeah," I said as I stood up, "I guess we might've gotten caught."

"But we didn't." He grinned and reached out to caress my stiff cock through
the fabric of my trunks. "Wow, this thing must be huge."

"Eight-and-a-half inches," I replied proudly.

"So, Sloan, where can a guy go around here to get fucked by
eight-and-a-half inches?"

Precisely what I had been hoping to hear.


- fratbear
fratbear@excite.com
http://www.geocities.com/fratcub/