This is the sixth chapter of `Bear Hunter'. A new chapter will come out every week. Any comments or questions can be directed to the author at nothlit(at)hotmail(dot)com

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people or events is entirely coincidental.

Bear Hunter
Chapter 6

    We couldn't leave the house at all that day despite Matt's burning eagerness to go after the bear. What began as a light afternoon rain grew quickly in intensity and soon it was a full-blown storm out there again, with lightning flashes and booming thunder than shook the glass in the windows every time it sounded.
    "Damn it," Matt said, peering out the window for the millionth time. There wasn't much to be seen—just gray mist and rain. Lots of it.
    "Take it easy, Matt," I said, lounging on one of the carved chairs by the fireplace. I'd lit it, and it was nice and warm near it.
    "It was here," he grumbled under his breath. "It was here and I let it get away. I can't believe it. Why the hell did I grab a shotgun? I've got two rifles on that rack. Either one would have done the job but no, I had to go and grab a fucking shotgun. I don't even think I hit the bear, and it was practically in my face. How could I be so stupid?"
    He banged his fist against the wall and the nearby window shook a little. A flash of lightning froze his face in white light for an instant as he looked out the window, trying to see into the distance by sheer force of will. I was struck by how attractive Matt was. Just my type, too, and very strong. The more time I spent with him, the more I liked him. Part of me was surprised to realize that I sincerely wanted to help him deal with this bear he hated so much. I owed it to him, sure, but it was more than that. I wanted to hunt with him; there was no reason for me to stay otherwise. I welcomed the chance to prove I'd meant every word I'd said about being sorry for before. In a way, I was glad the bear had shown up.
    Matt obviously wasn't, though.
    "The bear's not going to come back in this rain," I told him.
    He looked away from the window. "I know, I know. I just can't believe I let him go, just like that. It was so stupid!"
    "Hey. Calm down. You really hate this bear, huh?"
    "It's weird."
    "What's weird?" he asked, sitting on the chair opposite mine, close to the fire.
    "The way you're losing it over the bear. All the time I had you tied up, you didn't lose your cool, not once. You got angry, sure, but you kept it in check. I had you down for a controlled, think first and act later sort of guy."
    "This is different," Matt said. "I already told you what that bear did. You of all people should understand. That guy that shot your grandfather is dead by your hand. I just want revenge on that flea-ridden son of a bitch."
    "How can you even tell that's the bear that killed your father? You weren't there when he was attacked, not from what you told me. And when the bear was here you only saw it for five seconds at the most. It was already raining a bit. How can you tell? All bears look the same to me. I can't even be sure if one is female or male."
    "I know," Matt said simply. He rubbed his jaw absently, on the spot I'd hit him a couple of days back. I wondered if it still hurt him. If it did, he didn't let on. "I'm sure it was that bear. I know them all by name."
    "Ben. That's that stupid bear's name. Ben. A big male, five years old this winter. I'd know him anywhere. I've known him since he was a cub."
    Matt took a deep breath. "I guess I should explain. My parents were biologists. They met in college and then my father brought my mother back here. They worked on local wildlife preservation efforts, population monitoring, all that crap. My father studied black bears, and the effects of licensed hunting on their overall population. He'd give seminars in any town that would have him, explaining how to hunt to ensure you only got the males, how to spot a sow with cubs, what to do if the animal you killed was tagged and so on. At first he'd tried to outlaw bear hunting altogether, but just when he'd rallied enough local support to start a formal petition my mother died. He lost interest after that.
    "He still studied the bears—that's all he did, actually. He would spend days out in the woods and I wouldn't know about him for a week, only to find him at home one day, filthy and self-absorbed, having some beers on the porch. Those were hard times for both of us, I guess. Without my mother, my father and I just drifted further and further apart, even though we still lived in the same house. I came to hate the bears and all they represented. When I was younger, my father used to take me out with him sometimes and teach me what he knew: how to track them, what their names were, the spots he'd occasionally bait so they'd show up for observation. After my mother's passing he didn't even mention the possibility that I should go with him, not once. He just disappeared and wouldn't even speak to me when he came home. I guess that's how he dealt with his grief, but that wasn't the father I knew. He didn't care anymore. When his government grant ran out, he didn't bother renewing it. I paid the bills and worked for both of us, which was only fair I guess, but he didn't acknowledge it, not once. It was like he just lived for the time he spent out in the wilderness. Eventually, I stopped talking to him too."
    "I thought your father was a hunter," I said, gesturing to the guns.
    Matt grinned sadly. "Huh. My grandfather was the hunter. He practically had a fit the first time my father told him killing animals was wrong, or so he used to say when I was a kid. Around these parts, most men hunt. My father was the oddball for wanting to protect animals, not kill them. He tried to convince me not to hunt either, but I guess I turned out like my grandfather. I used to go out hunting maybe once every season with the guys back in town, before they found out I..."
    "Nothing. That's not important. I haven't hunted in a while now, but now that I know that stupid animal was here, I'm going to kill it. I thought he was back north, at the other end of his territory. Lucky he came back. As soon as the rain lets up, I'm going after him."
    "You're positive that's the right bear?"
    "Yeah. I already told you. You know how I know it was Ben that killed my father?"
    "When they found my father's body, he had a tag in his hand. They gave it to me along with the rest of his belongings. It was a new RFID tag, and the hand scanner showed me Ben's ID. My dad had been trying to re-tag him when the bear turned on him. The stupid, thankless beast."
    "Bears are unpredictable," I said.
    "I don't care!" Matt snapped. "Do you know what it was like, watching those... those bears take my father away from me after my mother died? He liked their company better than mine! But that wasn't enough for them. They had to take him away for good. Do you know how many times I've overheard snide remarks back in town that the man who'd tried all his life to save those creatures got killed by one of them? `Serves him right' is the general opinion. And at first I didn't agree, but now I'm not so sure. I do know something for certain, though: that bear will die. I know how to track it, I know how to kill it. I don't care if it isn't hunting season, I don't care who knows. I'll find him. You got that?"
    I nodded. Matt was flushed with anger, and he'd been pacing without noticing, hands balled up into fists. If that bear had shown up right then and there, he'd have probably gone right at him unarmed, trying to take him with his bare hands. I tried to put myself in Matt's place and wondered if I'd want to do the same thing—kill the son of a bitch that my father had spent his life trying to save. I probably would. Matt and I were a lot alike in that way.
    "Like I said," I told him, my voice calm and deep, "I'll help you. You could use an extra pair of eyes out there, I'll wager. A black bear might be smaller than a grizzly, but it's still a hell of a dangerous animal. Particularly if you're trying to kill it."
    Matt looked at me, still mad, but he nodded. Then he went back to the window and paced back and forth by it, waiting for the rain to end.
    As it turned out, it got dark and it was still raining. Even Matt had to give up on his plan to go after the animal that day, and we sat down to a cold dinner of more tuna and mayo. I'd had to make it; Matt was too worked up to do anything even remotely resembling cooking.
    It looked like he ate his meal without really tasting it, lost in his own thoughts. I didn't press him for more details—he'd already told me more than enough. I respected his silence and instead busied myself cleaning up after the meal was over, and setting aside some supplies for the hunt. I didn't know how long we'd be out, or how far away the bear would go, so I packed for about three days' time and stashed the food in a large backpack I found, ready to be carried off when we set out tomorrow. I had a look at the ammo box and the hunting rifles. The weapons were in excellent shape, and there was enough ammo for a small army in that box. I packed some ammo too, and left everything by the gun rack. Every once in a while I caught Matt following me with his eyes, but he didn't say anything. When it was time to go to sleep, he just stood up and went upstairs.
    I followed after a while, taking some time to put out the fire. I sensed Matt needed space, so I gave it to him. I'd even decided to sleep downstairs when I heard him call me.
    "Hey, Sven."
    "What's up?" I asked, climbing the stairs.
    When I got to the second floor, Matt was in the hallway with a pillow and a large blanket in his hands.
    "Here. You can sleep on the couch if you like."
    I took them. "Thanks."
    "The rain will probably let up by morning."
    A loud roll of thunder seemed to disagree.
    I carried the stuff to the couch by the TV and took off my jeans and shoes. I made myself as comfortable as I could and closed my eyes, trying to go to sleep. From nearby I could hear Matt moving around in his room, even though his light was off. It was a long time before he settled down to sleep. I think I fell asleep before he did, with the loud sound of raindrops falling on the roof.

    I woke up to more rain and a light grey, diffused light from the morning sun. My neck hurt from the position I'd slept in. Yawning, I strode off to the bathroom to relieve myself. I wondered how late it was. I went downstairs to the kitchen while Matt woke up and looked around until I found a carton of apple juice that had been hidden by an empty cereal box. The juice had expired two weeks ago, but I figured it was cold enough in Alaska for stuff to keep past the expiration date and I opened up the carton and drank it. The juice didn't taste funny, so I drank about half of the carton before looking around for something to eat.
    I heard Matt coming downstairs soon after, which was good because all I'd been able to find that looked edible was a box of strange pancake mix with complicated preparation instructions.
    "Hey," Matt said.
    "I'm starving," he commented.
    "Me too." I held the pancake box up. "There's this if you're hungry."
    He looked around the pantry. "And the canned stuff?"
    "I put it in the backpack for when we leave."
    "Oh. Right."
    He grabbed the pancake box and immediately poured some of the white floury mixture in a bowl.
    "No milk, so water it is," he said.
    Twenty minutes later, he'd made a sizeable pile of pancakes which he set in the center of the table.
    "Here's some syrup," I said, dusting off a small jar that looked old.
    "Good. Let's eat."
    We ate in silence. Matt turned around every three bites or so to look out the window. The rain was letting up, in fact, but not soon enough for him.
    "Stupid rain," he grumbled, his mouth full. "There'll be no tracks at all. And the bear will hide somewhere so he won't get wet and probably not come out all day. Worst hunting conditions ever."
    "We'll find it," I said, finishing up my portion. "You said you're good at tracking."
    "I am. You're right, Sven. With a little patience, we'll get that son of a bitch."
    "Damn right."
    After we finished eating, there was nothing to do but stare out the window waiting for the rain to end, which we did for a while.
    "This is boring," Matt said eventually.
    "You want to do something else?" he asked me.
    "Like what?"
    "I haven't worked out ever since you came. You mind spotting for me?"
    "You got a gym here?"
    "Sure. In the basement."
    "The basement?"
    Matt grinned. "This way."
    Matt led me to the main room of the house, to a spot next to the fireplace which was covered by a worn-out rug. I had previously seen the rug, but I hadn't paid much attention to it. Now Matt walked right up to it, and lifted the rug. He exposed a small trapdoor that had a tiny handle which was held in place by a small lock.
    "There?" I asked him.
    He grinned, taking out a key from his pocket. "Yeah. My grandfather was, among other things, convinced that the world would end in a nuclear war. He had a bomb shelter built underneath the house in the seventies, but I turned it into a gym when he died. Come on, I'll show you."
    He unlocked the trap door and lifted it, exposing a rectangular hole that was barely big enough for one man to fit. Matt went down first, clicking on a switch on his way down, which lit up the way pretty well. After he had gone down, I followed him more slowly, placing my feet on the rungs of a wooden ladder that led all the way down. I jumped the last couple steps and turned around.
    "Whoa," I said, looking around. "I can't believe such a place is right underneath the house!"
    "Took me a while to equip it with all the stuff, and don't even ask me how I got the bigger machines in here, because it wasn't pretty. I'm happy with the result, though. Back when my father was still alive, this was my private retreat."
    The room looked like it had been taken right out of a sports club in any big city. Two of the walls were lined with mirrors, one at the far end of the room and the other one to the right. The wall opposite that one was lined with exercise machines that ranged from a simple bench for bench presses to one of those multi-exercise machines that have lots of pulleys and levers, with a variety of accessories to customize your grip. In the middle of the room, there was a wide open space and, in the back, there was a rack with lots of dumbbells of different weights, two heavy-looking barbells, and lots of weight discs ranging from five pounds to twenty-five pound ones. There was even a stationary bike set right by the ladder, and two big speakers from the sound system that Matt must have installed. The entire floor was polished wood, and the lights gave a nice warm glow to the entire place. All in all, it was a pretty sweet den.
    "I'm guessing it was pretty expensive to get all this," I said, walking around and looking everywhere appreciatively.
    "A bit," Matt admitted. "But not as much as you may think. I had to use all of the money my grandfather had left me, but it was worth it. I spend a lot of time in here."
    "It sure looks like it," I blurted, glancing at Matt involuntarily. When I realized what I had said, I hurriedly looked away.
    "Anyway, I thought you might want to work out for a bit while we wait for the rain to end. I could sure use a bit of exercise. Helps me relax. After all the time I spend in that chair..."
    "I could use some working out, too," I said. "It's been a while since I last went to a gym. Ever since those bastards showed up at our farm, I haven't really had time."
    "I thought those muscles were only from heavy farm work," Matt said, looking at me in a way that made my dick stir.
    I grinned. "Nah. There was this gym I usually went to, downtown. A kind of beat-down place, but you could get a decent workout in there. I used to compete with some of the other guys about how much we could bench press. None of them even came close to matching my record."
    "Oh yeah? How much can you press?"
    "I once did 320."
    Matt raised his eyebrows. "You have to be fucking joking."
    "It's not that much. I have this trucker friend who had a brother who had tried to get into weightlifting for real and he said his brother could press 500 or more."
    "Shit," Matt said. "The most I've been able to do is 260. One time."
    "That's pretty good," I told him sincerely. "Most of the guys at the gym wouldn't be able to press more than their own body weight. I just like bench presses a lot, so I practiced it more than any other exercise."
    "Yeah, I can tell," Matt said, looking at me that way again.
    "Right. Um, so are we going to just stand around talking, or are we going to actually get some work done?"
    For an answer, Matt headed to where his stereo was and turned it on. He stuck a small USB drive into a port and hit play. Upbeat, instrumental music filled the room.
    "You can put your clothes over there," Matt told me, taking off his shirt. "Most of the time I only wear a pair of shorts in here, since I hate having to wash my clothes very often."
    "These are the only clothes I have, so I'll take you up on your offer."
    I took off my shirt and my jeans and put them in a plastic bin which stood by the stereo. I left my shoes over there too, so I was only wearing the underwear Matt had lent me yesterday. When I turned around, Matt had already taken most of his clothes off, and he was only wearing a pair of red shorts and his socks. His ripped body looked even better under the lights overhead. His skin was smooth and pale, and when he walked to the dumbbell rack and started doing some light biceps curls with a couple of five-pound weights, I could see every muscle in his arms contract and bend along with the movement. I felt a strong rush of desire for him, and the memory of how he had fucked me yesterday only made it stronger. I'd never let anyone top me before, and it had been great, but now I wanted to be the one fucking that round, firm ass.
    I did want to work out, though, so I did some light stretches in time with the music and grabbed a couple of dumbbells to warm up the muscles in my arms, my shoulders and neck. I wanted to start up with the bench press, so I went right over there while Matt was doing some pull-ups on a bar set high, by the far end of the room, with his back to me. I stopped a moment to watch him perform each movement with slow, controlled motions. His back was sculpted like a bodybuilder's, a perfect V-shape, just like I had noticed before. His shoulders were big and powerful-looking, set wide apart, and ripped. They were easily the most developed part of his physique. I looked at them contract and relax in perfect synchrony to the rest of his movements until I realized I was staring. Then I lay down on the bench, grabbed the barbell that was already set there and began to lift it, pushing up and down. At first I did a few reps without any weights on the barbell, to give my chest muscles time to stretch and warm up. It had been a while since the last time I had had a proper workout, so I was careful to take it slow so I wouldn't injure myself doing something stupid like trying to press four hundred pounds right away.
    I worked at the bench for a while, gradually increasing the weight and alternating with a few other exercises for my biceps and my lats. I caught Matt's gaze every now and then, but mostly we were each doing our own thing. It was great. I felt just like I'd felt back at home at the gym, where I could just let my mind wander while I worked out. I'd used to go at the end of the day, after I had finished most of my chores. For me, it was a way to unwind. I felt the same thing happening here. As I worked out, all the stress and tension of the past few days began to melt away. I also discovered it was getting easier being in the same room with Matt; it didn't feel awkward anymore. I actually enjoyed the company.
    I set the barbell to 150 pounds and lay down. I was getting pumped now, enjoying the rush of blood to my muscles and the warm sensation of being in constant activity. I grabbed the barbell firmly, and pushed. I managed to do ten reps before stopping. Then I dropped the barbell back down and took a breather.
    "You need someone to spot for you?" Matt asked, approaching.
    I looked up at him from my supine position on the bench and nodded. "Yeah. I was about to ask."
    "Okay. Just give the word."
    Matt walked over to the bench and stood by the spot where my head was. He set himself in a position where it would be easy to grab the barbell if I couldn't lift anymore. Looking up at him, I noticed his crotch was just a couple inches from my face. I tried to think about something else as I grabbed the barbell to do my second set. It wasn't easy, but I managed.
    I managed to finish the set with eight reps and then stood up to get a couple more 25-pound weights. Matt helped me with one of them, and we sent them on either side of the barbell.
    "Watch out," I told him. I'm going to try for three reps."
    "You got it."
    I grabbed the barbell and lifted it. I felt the strain in my muscles now, and I pushed it up slowly, focusing on keeping the movement smooth. I brought the weight back down to my chest, huffing with effort, and then pushed back up. I got the weight all the way up and began to bring it back down. My chest muscles were burning, but it was a good sensation. A good kind of pain. I completed a second rep, and I lifted the weight all the way up for the third. I paused at the top, breathing hard. Then I resumed the motion. When I was bringing it back down, though, my strength began to fail me. It had been a long while without working out. Matt noticed, and he helped me bring the barbell to its resting position.
    "You weren't kidding about the weight," Matt said. I heard the respect in his voice. "That was what, 200 pounds?"
    I stood up from the bench and nodded. "Yeah. Sucks I could only do 200, though. I  don't want to risk an injury."
    Matt looked at me, taking in my nearly-naked body, pumped from the exercise. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and saw that I wasn't doing too bad for a guy who'd spent the last three months sleeping wherever he could, eating whatever he could find. In fact, all that stress had trimmed away some of the fat I'd had, leaving me with a nice six-pack, hard-looking and lightly covered by ginger body hair.
    "How much do you weigh, Sven?"
    I shrugged. "Not sure. Last time I weighed myself, though, I was about 200 pounds, more or less."
    "Whoa. If I'd weighed that much when I was in the wrestling team back in high school, I would've kicked ass. I was only just starting to work out back then though, so I got my ass handed to me quite a few times."
    "You were on the wrestling team?"
    "Yeah. That's why I was able to take it down when we fought at the beach."
    "The way I remember it, I took you down, Matt," I said, grinning.
    "Just because you had that fucking gun of yours. I had you in the bag."
    "Oh yeah? You wanna bet?"
    Matt raised an eyebrow. "What you mean?"
    I walked to the center of the room, grabbed a big blue mat that was hidden behind the barbells, and spread it on the floor. "Let's go again. See who really comes out on top."
    Matt considered it for a bit, but I could tell he liked the idea. It was no surprise when he nodded. "All right, Sven. But I'm warning you. I'm not going easy on you. Might even get back at you a bit for before."
    I stood at one end of the mat, legs spread apart, upper body slightly bent, ready. "You're welcome to try. Come on."
    Matt walked over and assumed an unfamiliar position which I supposed was his version of getting ready. He and I locked eyes, and the music became an indistinct buzz in the background. I was alert, and felt my instincts kick in. The second Matt twitched to the side, I reacted. Matt saw it, and backed off. He looking for an opening, but I wasn't about to give him one.
    I had the reach on him, and the weight. If I could grab him and pin him down it would be over. The problem was that Matt was very fast, as I remembered all too clearly from our fight at the beach. I had to be on my toes for this one. I couldn't afford to lose.
    I made a fake lunge for him, but Matt saw right through it and sidestepped effortlessly, grabbing my arm and pulling suddenly, yanking me out of balance. He used his momentum against me, using my own body weight to help him slam me onto the mat. I hit, but managed to roll away before Matt had the chance to jump on top of me. I jumped back onto my feet and edged away from him, eyeing him warily. I wasn't going to make the same mistake again; better switch tactics. I had to wait until he came for me. Then I'd seize my chance.
    I waited, walking slowly sideways while Matt did the same in the opposite direction, mirroring my movements. I waited, and waited, until he lost his patience and tried to tackle me. I almost had time to grin. He'd walked right into that one.
    Back in high school, I'd played a lot of football. Because of my size, I usually ended up tackling other guys senseless on the field. Once, this enormous guy had tried to tackle me instead. I'd let him get close, just like Matt was doing now, and at the last second I'd switched my position so he would hit me sideways. It hadn't ended up well for that guy, and Matt was about to find out why.
    Matt barged into me, his hands grasping for my waist, but I shifted my position like I'd done that time and his hands couldn't get a grip. I stuck my foot out, grabbed him in turn, and pushed him forward so he fell flat on his face on the mat. He grunted when he hit, and to his credit he tried to roll away like I had. I was too close for that, though. I dropped right on top of him, straddled his legs, and grabbed both his arms with my hands. Then I began to pull.
    "Fuck!" Matt yelled, fighting against my grip.
    I grinned, although he couldn't see me, and pulled backwards, lifting his upper body off the floor. I made sure I wasn't actually hurting him, but I still pulled hard enough to make him grunt in pain.
    "Give up," I whispered into his ear. "You can't get out of this one."
    His only answer was another grunt, and suddenly all his resistance ceased. It caught me off guard, and I lost my grip on one of his arms. Matt didn't waste any time. He shook out of my grip, turned around, and tried to get me in a headlock. He actually managed to get his arm around my neck, grabbing his wrist with his other arm and tried to tighten the grip. I managed to get one of my arms inside the lock, though, and I pushed backwards with all my strength, trying to pry his arms apart. Matt resisted, and for a while we were matched in strength. We were locked tight in a violent embrace, grunting with the effort of fighting against the other man's strength. I was sweating, and Matt was too. It made our skin slippery, but also cool to the touch. As I struggled against Matt's headlock, his skin grinding against mine, my legs fighting for purchase, tangled with his legs, I couldn't help getting a raging hard-on. I caught a whiff of Matt's man-smell, faint but arousing. We were both panting, red in the face from the force we had to apply just to stand our ground, but little by little Matt's grip began to give way. He was faster and more experienced than me in one-on-one fighting, but I was stronger. And it was beginning to show.
    I broke Matt's headlock suddenly, and pinned his arms behind his back again. Our bare chests were touching, and this when Matt struggled, his smooth jaw grazed my beard. I felt something hard pressing against my belly, and I realized with a start that Matt had a hard-on just like I did. It was about then that he must have felt my own big cock pressing against his leg, and the surprise showed in his face. He didn't stop resisting, though. He struggled and pushed and tried to break free, but it was too late. I had him.
    Time for the real fun.
    I threw him back on his face and used one of my hands to pin him to the mat, pushing down so he couldn't move. My hand slipped for a bit on the sweat on his back, but I regained my grip and forced Matt to lie still while I used my free hand to yank off his shorts. The fabric tore a little, but I managed to pull them down to his knees, exposing his smooth, firm ass. It was then Matt silently accepted his defeat. He stopped struggling, and he didn't resist when I brought my hand down to caress his butt, slipping my fingers into his hairy crack.
    "I've wanted to do this for a very long time," I said, as I found his hole. His ass was slick with sweat, but I didn't mind. It actually helped, as I pushed in slowly, driving my finger up Matt's ass.
    Matt grunted, and I managed to get the tip of my finger up there. Then I took it out, changed position so I was kneeling in between Matt's spread legs as he lay facedown on the mat, and grabbed his cheeks with both hands. I squeezed them, feeling the smooth roundness of his butt and kneading the firm muscle underneath with my fingers. I spread his butt cheeks so I could have a look at his asshole, and the sight of that hairy ass made my dick throb with desire. I wanted a taste of that. So I dove right in.
    Matt tensed up when he felt my beard brush against his butt, but I kept his cheeks spread wide and stuck out my tongue, heading right for his asshole. As soon as Matt felt the touch of my warm, wet tongue, he sighed in pleasure and relaxed. I rimmed his hole hungrily, running my tongue up and down Matt's man hole, tasting and breathing in his musky, manly taste. I placed the tip of my tongue right over his puckered asshole and pushed in. Matt groaned, and relaxed enough for me to manage to get in ever so slightly. I then resumed working his hole thoroughly, making him nice and slick with my spit. When I saw he had relaxed enough, I backed away and pushed into his hole with my middle finger. This time, my finger went in easily, all the way inside him.
    "You like that?" I asked him, moving my finger in small, slow circles in his hole.
    "Yeah," Matt whispered. "That feels great."
    I grinned, and took my finger out only to shove it inside him again. Matt loosened up pretty quickly, and soon I was able to stick two fingers inside him no problem. I flipped him over so I could see his face. Matt's dick was rock-hard, begging for me to grab it. I was going to, but not just yet. I was getting hornier and hornier by the second, and I wanted to fuck him. Right then and there.
    "You got a condom?" I asked Matt. I didn't have any on me.
    He nodded, and pointed to his jeans lying on the floor. I went over there quickly, my dick hard between my legs, and when I found it I came back, seeing Matt lying on his back before me, legs spread wide and offering his hole for me to fuck it. I tore open the condom's package and slid it over my dick. I knelt between Matt's legs and hurriedly lubed up my cock with spit. Then I aimed it right at Matt's asshole and I shoved it inside him, hard.
    Matt took it like a man. As I began to fuck him, sliding my big dick in an out of his hole, he closed his eyes and grabbed his ankles with his hands, letting me have my way with him. The sight of that strong man giving himself to me like that since was incredibly arousing, and I began to pound him hard, mercilessly, my hips slapping his butt every time I thrust into him. It felt incredible to be inside his warm, tight hole. The pleasure running through my body blocked out all other thought.
    I bent over Matt, grabbing the back of his head with one hand and lifting it as I bent down to place my lips over his. He responded to my kiss eagerly, hungrily, and I touched his tongue with mine, kissing him deep even as I was impaling him with my big, hard shaft.
    "Yeah," Matt whispered as I fucked him, then kissed me again. "Man, you're big."
    The sound of his voice only made me go harder, and I was rewarded with the moans of pleasure that Matt let out involuntarily when he began to feel what a real assfucking felt like. He liked it, that much was obvious, and when I grabbed him by the waist and pulled him to me, he got the idea right away, and let himself be pulled on top of me as I lay down on my back on the sweat-slick mat with him on top of me, straddling my dick.
    Matt planted his feet on either side of me and began to lift his ass up and down, fucking himself with my cock. His own hard dick and balls were hanging over my stomach, inches away from my face, and I reached out to grab his cock as he began riding my dick hard, his eyes closed, his hungry ass taking in every inch of me.
    "Oh, man," he said, panting, going up and down, slowly at first, then picking up speed. "Oh yeah."
    The sight of his intense pleasure drove me closer and closer to the edge, faster than I expected. I began to jack off his dick hard, tugging on his meat and feeling it get even harder in my hand. Matt loved it. He rode my dick like a wild man, impaling himself with it, moaning with pleasure.
    Eventually, Matt closed his eyes and stopped riding my dick, keeping his hips a few inches off the ground, inviting me to fuck him in turn. I didn't need him to tell me twice. I began thrusting up inside him hard, and fast, and Matt began to groan, moving his hips slightly, giving himself entirely to me. He threw his head back, completely lost in the moment, engulfed in the sensations I was giving him. I went faster seeing that, and harder, panting now, too, and as my hand flew over Matt's dick I suddenly saw him tense up, feeling both in my hand and around my dick the sudden, wild orgasm that rocked Matt from the inside.
    "Shit, I'm coming!" he cried out.
    He came. He spurted his load all over my chest, the hot, warm ropes of jizz landing everywhere. I couldn't hold my own orgasm at bay any longer. With a loud, guttural groan, I slipped out of Matt's hole, yanked off the condom, and managed to give my dick two hard tugs before exploding in a mind-numbing orgasm, shooting my cum with incredible force, my hips bucking as each wave of pleasure rocked me.
    It was over quickly, but it was an incredibly intense orgasm. I don't know if I cried out, but I must have. It had felt too damn good and left me drained, satisfied. When I opened my eyes again, it was to see Matt looking down at me, a grin on his face. A bit of my cum had landed on his leg, and as I watched he dabbed it off with his finger and then brought that finger up to his lips. He sucked on it, tasting my cum. I grinned, and pulled him to me. I embraced him, hard, lying there on that mat on the floor. I held his hard, muscled body tight against mine, and he returned the embrace with a strength and intensity that surprised me.
    "You're a fucking beast," he said softly into my ear.
    "Yeah. I guess I am."
    We lay like that in silence for a while, close to each other, but after the emotional rush began to fade away, I began to feel self-conscious about the way I was holding Matt and I let go. He seemed to sense the awkwardness, and he pulled away, standing up to find a towel and clean himself up. When he was done, he climbed the ladder up to the first floor. I followed a little bit afterwards, collecting my clothes as I went, and climbed up to the main level of the house after him. He went upstairs to the bathroom, and I followed. I waited for him to take a shower, and then I took one, too. Matt and I didn't speak to each other. I guess we both realized what we were doing—it wasn't just sex anymore, at least for me. Not after that. I felt weird about Matt. It had been one thing to want to fuck him, and enjoy the moment since she was so hot, but now things were changing, and I didn't even understand how. All I knew was that I suddenly didn't know what to say to him, and Matt's silence made me second-guess my actions. Maybe he wanted me to leave. Maybe I'd have to forget I'd ever known him. Normally that wouldn't bother me; after all, I'd been with many different guys in my time, and it always ended up more or less like that. I dumped them even before they had a chance to tell me their names. I never saw them again, and they never called back. It had worked fine for me all this time, but now it was... different.
    When I was done showering, I went downstairs to find Matt packing the stuff we'd need to go out hunting.
    "The weather is finally letting us leave," he said casually, throwing a heavy backpack at me. "Come on, Sven. We got a bear to kill."
    I grinned, feeling an unexpected rush of warmth at Matt's words. I had half-expected him to ask me to leave. I was surprised to realize how relieved I was that he hadn't done that.
    I shouldered the backpack, and took one of the rifles Matt gave me. He took the other one, and led the way out of the house. When we stepped out, I saw that most of the clouds had been blown away by the wind, and we had a clear day ahead of us. Perfect hunting weather. Matt's looked back to make sure I was following, and he nodded, smiling at me. I tried to ignore the little kick I felt in the pit of my stomach and his smile, and I followed him into the forest.

The next chapter will come out next Tuesday!
If you like this story, make sure to check out my other Nifty story, `Learning with a Man' at: