Date: Tue, 18 Sep 2001 11:39:58 -0700 (PDT)
From: fratbear <fratbear@excite.com>
Subject: "Sloan Cosgrove, Chapter 4 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://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/