Date: Sat,  8 Mar 2008 22:05:54 -0500 (EST)
From: fratbear <fratbear@excite.com>
Subject: Sloan Cosgrove, Chapter 40 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 40: Deep Tissue

"You can take off your robe and lie down under the blanket. I'll be back in
a minute," Art said as he stepped out of the dark room and closed the door
behind him, leaving me alone with the massage table and the gentle sounds
of trickling water and a new-age harp solo wafting from a speaker near the
ceiling.

I'd been at the Phoenix Spa for a day now, and my masseur Art was about to
give me the first Swedish massage of my life. I was looking forward to
having someone relieve twenty years of tension in my muscles. I had booked
a ninety minute massage, and I wondered if I could just lie there for that
long without falling asleep.

When Art introduced himself to me in the waiting area, I knew that I
wouldn't fall asleep for fear of missing one minute of his attention. He
was a big, soft teddy bear of a guy with large, powerful-looking hands. He
was probably in his thirties, but he had a soft, babyish face. The only
clues that he might be a little older than he looked were a pair of
thick-framed glasses and a thin attempt at a mustache. From the looks of
it, I doubted that he was capable of growing a beard. I knew he'd probably
been doing this job for years, but when he smiled nervously, he couldn't
help but look like it was his first time.

I did as he told me, taking off the terry-cloth robe the spa had provided
for me and sliding naked under the thin blanket lying across the massage
table. I pulled the blanket up to my waist, noticing that it was so thin
that my cock, though not erect, was clearly outlined in the cloth. I stared
at the ceiling, which was tiled in seashell patterns.

True to his word, Art returned to the room after exactly one minute,
washing his hands in a nearby sink and toweling them off. "So, is this your
first professional massage?" he asked as he stepped up to the table. I
nodded in response, and he smiled. "All right, I'll start off with medium
pressure. Let me know if you want me to go deeper and harder."

The mention of those very words made my dick twitch, and I hoped he didn't
notice. Think unsexy thoughts, I thought to myself, remembering an episode
of "The Simpsons" where Homer was trying not to think about a seductive
co-worker. Just like in the episode, though, I couldn't help thinking about
Art and his nervous smile, especially when he started to massage my
shoulders and chest with his strong, but tender hands.

As much as I tried to stop it, my cock began to swell under the thin
blanket, and if the outline of it wasn't evident before, it sure as hell
was now. I didn't look down, but I was certain it was practically forming a
tent.

Art didn't seem to react, going to work on my arms and hands, stretching
them out and shaking them to loosen up the muscles. He'd probably seen this
type of thing happen a hundred times. Let's face it, men are a horny
bunch. It doesn't take much for us to pitch a tent. Still, that doesn't
lessen the embarrassment of it.

When he was done, he started working on my stomach and sides, kneading them
with his fingers while managing not to tickle me. That took real skill. It
probably took even more skill to ignore my throbbing erection, which was
getting so hard that it was painful.

Art stopped massaging my belly and whispered to me. "You want me to work
these muscles, too?" He had his hand resting on the bulge I was creating in
the blanket.

I gulped before I answered. "Please," I simply uttered.

That was the magic word. Art pulled off the blanket and tossed it aside,
revealing my entire body to him. He took my stiff pole in his hands and
started caressing it in both hands, running his fingers up and down the
length of it in rhythmic motions. I'd never felt anything like it.

The sensations were so powerful that I started squirming on the table,
moaning uncontrollably. Art only intensified his fondling, letting his
fingers glide over the super-sensitive head of my cock with every
stroke. Although I couldn't see, I was sure my cock was leaking precum like
crazy.

While continuing to masturbate me with one hand, Art moved his other hand
down, caressing my balls with his thumb and index finger while massaging my
asshole with the rest of his hand. As the muscles in my ass relaxed, he
slipped his middle finger into my body.

I was practically gasping for air. Art was giving me sensations I didn't
know were possible. He was staring at my chest and belly as they tightened,
a sure sign that I was about to blow my wad.

So while still massaging my cock and balls while probing my ass with his
finger, Art leaned over and swallowed the end of my rod, his tongue doing a
ballet around the rim of my cockhead. This man was a package of pure
sensual pleasure. I gritted my teeth and curled my toes as I couldn't hold
it back, anymore.

With a grunt and a convulsion, I blasted my load of cum into Art's skillful
mouth, which formed a tight seal around my shaft so that he wouldn't lose a
single drop. He plunged his finger repeatedly into my contracting asshole,
causing each wave of my orgasm to seem more intense than the one before it.

I let out a long sigh as my body stopped shaking. Instead of stopping, Art
continued to suck and massage my cock, only gradually slowing down his
motions until finally, after what must've been five minutes of letting me
come down, he was finished.

He took his mouth off my softened dick and slipped his finger out of my
ass. "Well," he said, "you still have forty-five minutes on the clock."

I took a deep breath. "Well, do you do really deep massages?"

Art smiled, and all signs of nervousness had disappeared. "You mean like
inside your body?"

I grinned back. "Exactly."

He patted my stomach. "Roll over, big guy."

I turned myself over onto my stomach and looked over at Art as he stripped
off his shirt and shorts, revealing a soft, furry body that I wouldn't have
minded cuddling for a while. But we didn't have time for that. I watched
Art as he pumped some lotion into his hand and spread it over his
fully-hard cock, which must've been almost eight inches long. With hands
like his, I wondered if he'd ever need to actually have sex with anyone
else.

Art spread my legs and climbed up onto the massage table with me. I closed
my eyes and let out a deep sigh as I felt his long dick sliding into me
effortlessly. Art lay his warm body on top of mine, his furry body feeling
like a bear rug on my back. I felt his barely-noticeable, hot breath on my
neck as he began to slowly thrust his cock into my ass.

It was the most relaxed, gentle fuck I'd ever had in my life. Art was in no
hurry to reach his climax. Instead, he was making sure that I felt every
move of his body, every inch of his shaft as he entered me again and again.

His strong hands slid down my arms until his fingers became entwined in
mine. Even as he fucked me, he was kneading my hands, relaxing them until
they felt almost numb. He kissed my neck and back lightly as he pumped my
ass with a sweet, steady rhythm.

I couldn't do anything but lie there under his weight and take in the waves
of pleasure that surged through my body with each measured plunge of his
shaft. His cock slid easily and out of me, and I noticed that his pulse
remained even and unchanged as he fucked me. His chest was pressed right
against my back, and I felt his strong heartbeat. It was as if he was
exerting nothing, expending zero energy. As if fucking came to him as
easily as breathing.

I moaned and whimpered pitifully, unable to control my emotions as Art kept
penetrating me for over half an hour. I'd never had anybody fuck me for so
long without cumming. I wondered if I'd even know when he was reaching his
climax.

Tears were welling up in my eyes, not from pain, but from the intense
pleasure. It was almost magical, the way Art seemed to know when I'd hit
that plateau, because within seconds, I heard his soft voice as he let out
his first moan. "Yeah..." he groaned softly.

I felt his cock throbbing in my ass as he came inside me with an almost
total lack of fanfare. Just a long, slow breath as he continued to pump my
ass with his pulsating shaft. He kept fucking me as he shot his sperm into
my ass, until I was certain his orgasm was over. But he kept thrusting into
me for a few minutes longer.

When he was done, he sighed and plunged his still-erect cock all the way
into me, then just lay on top of me as we both took deep breaths in unison,
as if we were one being.

I was so exhausted that I could only manage to whimper two words. "Thank
you."

Art kissed my neck again. "I have an opening tomorrow if you're interested
in another session. Perhaps I can fit you in for a facial."

I just smiled, the silence being the only answer he needed.

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