Date: Sat, 17 Oct 2009 22:35:25 -0700
From: Oregon Bear <oregonbear9@gmail.com>
Subject: Early Morning Dream

       It had been a long day in the city, and the last business meeting
didn't get over til 9.  I'd driven home over the twisty mountain road, a
two hour drive in the best of weather. But, the fall rains had set in and I
had to wait a bit at the summit, so a small slide could be cleared.  All I
wanted was to get home.
	He was sound asleep when I crept into the bedroom. I'd left my
half-soaked shoes by the door to the garage, and slipped out of my suit and
white shirt in the bathroom.  My tie was still on the seat in the car, next
to my briefcase.  At least there were some new sales contracts in there, so
I could assure the boss on Monday that I was still pulling my weight in the
company.
	The dim light from the alarm clock was the only light in the
bedroom, but I could still make out the thick, furry chest of Mike, rising
and falling slowly, as he snored a bit, one arm flopped up on the pillow,
exposing the thick fur of his armpit, and making a nice silhouette of his
thick chest, wide nipples, and the nice trail of fur that ran down the
center of his rippled abs into the crumpled sheet at his waist, and the
promise of his thick cock and full, hairy balls.
       His face was dark, in the shadow of his beefy arm, but I could see
the outline of his thick goatee and 'stache.  His cheeks and jaws would be
stubbly, in the morning, and I loved to run my fingers along his face in
the morning, as we woke up together.  And, then my fingers would run
through his beard and down to the fur of his chest, finding his nipples,
toying with them, until they were hard, stiff.
       Just like his cock.  Just before I'd take him deep into my mouth,
wet and slippery, until he finally spurted thick ropes of cum against my
tongue, until a wet string of his seed would slip out, and fall silently
onto the fur of his hard belly, his breath still hard and ragged, sweat
pooling against his spent balls.
	We'd been together a couple of years now, and I was the happiest
man in the valley.  Mike had been everything I wanted in a man: kind,
thoughtful, supportive.  He was the most incredible lover I could imagine,
but right now, all I wanted was some shuteye, and Mike was already deep
into dreamland.  I knew he'd missed me, and there was a shot glass of my
favorite Scotch on the bathroom counter.  He was always thinking of me, and
as I emptied the shot glass, I thought of how he'd warm me from the inside
in so many other ways.  My cock twitched a bit at the thought of our last
session of lovemaking, right before I left on my trip.
	But I was too tired to even enjoy a good fantasy now, and a minute
later, I lay next to Mike, slipping fast into dreamland.  I dreamed of him
that night.  We were on a beach, and it was warm, almost hot.  He was
gently sucking on my balls and slowly stroking my cock with his fingers.  I
was hard, hard and big, and nearly ready to shoot my cum.  The warm sun was
hot on my balls and my chest, and I could feel his breath on the fur at the
base of my cock, his goatee rubbing softly along the underside of my cock.
	The dream seemed so real.  My heart raced and I could hear myself
moan, and cry out his name, just before I exploded.
	I opened my eyes, no longer dreaming, but I might as well been.
Mike's whiskered mouth was tight against my hard, throbbing cock, and his
fingers were playing with my hard, tight balls.  His breath was hot against
the fur of my sweaty crotch, his other hand fondling my nipple.  His eyes
looked deep into mine, and I heard his laugh, muffled by my hard cock deep
in my mouth, and his voice struggled to say "good morning".
	We both laughed, Mike pulling away from me just a bit to catch his
breath and go deep into his laugh.
	"Don't talk with your mouth full, Mike," I chuckled.  "And, you
better finish what you started there or I'll be nailing your ass to the
bed."
	Mike laughed again, and moved his hands back around my balls, and
his mouth back to the tip of my hungry cock.  He was warm, almost hot, as
his tongue and lips took me inside of him again, slipping down and up, down
and up, until I shut my eyes, feeling my cum rise in my eager, full balls.
	He lingered, keeping me on the edge, until my hips bucked, my arms
flailed to the sides, and one hand gripped his bare shoulder, my fingers
grabbing deep into the thick muscles of my lover.  I thrashed from one side
to the other, moaning and calling his name, until I lapsed into wordless
groans and grunts.  No words could express where he was taking me, or how
high we could go.
	Slowly, he pushed one wettened finger along the thin line of skin
under my balls, and then around my hole, again and again.  Fires of lust
rose in my balls and my cock and everywhere deep inside of me, as I moaned
for mercy, for release.  His lips and wet tongue and throat gripped me
deep, pulling me higher.
	As I was about ready to explode, my chest rising off of the
sweat-soaked sheet, his finger slid thick and wet inside of me, deeper and
deeper, pushing against my prostate, pushing me beyond anything I could
control.  And, I came and came, and came again.  Torrents of cum shot from
my cock, draining my balls, white lightning of ecstasy bouncing across my
brain, my groin.  Pools of sweat flooded my armpits, my groin, my chest.
Deep breaths rasped through my mouth, until I finally calmed, finally fell
back, Mike's mouth still wet against me, holding me inside of him, tasting
every drop of all that I had given, all that I had.
	And, he held me close, the heat of his thick, hard chest against
me.  I fell against him, relaxed, satisfied, and loved.  His hard, muscular
arms, built up over years working in the woods cutting timber, tightened
around me, holding me.  His musky odor filled my nostrils, a mixture of
sleep, my drying cum, and the faint smell of sawdust and chain saw gas.
His hard phallus lay against my thigh, and I could feel the tight smooth
skin of his foreskin rub against the hairs of my thigh, the thickness of
his cockhead and the hardness of his shaft against my naked, sweaty skin.
	I could sense his thick balls, tight and full, between his muscular
thighs, and I could almost taste the acrid horny sweat of his hair-covered
sack, and feel the veins and ridge of his cockhead against my tongue.  Yes,
I would do that for him, for my lover, in just a minute or two.  But, it
was good now, to lie against the wrinkled sheets of our bed, his furry
chest above me, touching me.  His strong arms, hard steel pillars, on each
side of me.  I lay there, spent, satiated, soaking up his strength, his
manliness.  It was just us now, together.  Two lovers, naked, sweaty, chest
to chest, his weight held off of me a bit by his massive arms, as he held
himself above me, looking deep into my face.
	We were so good for each other, the logger and the businessman, in
this small town.  We took care of each other, urging each other forward in
our lives, being supportive, being a place for each other where it was safe
to be who we really were.  We'd both had our share of low blows and gut
wrenching relationships.  We'd both been rejected, more than once.
	Yet, when we met, we hit it off right from the start.  We both had
the same sense of wry humor, both liked a little bit of the grape and a
little bit of the barley, but not too much.  We both liked to be creative,
and sought out the beauty of the world and the beauty inside of each other.
Sometimes, we'd talk long into the night, about life and love and who we
were and who we wanted to be.  And, we'd push each other a bit, right when
we needed it, to make sure that we both kept on growing in our own hearts.
	Sometimes, I thought Mike knew me better than I knew myself, and
he'd say the same thing about me.  And, Mike was there with me, all the
way, when my nephew didn't come back from Afghanistan.  He helped me
through that anger, and my rages.  And, he talked me through the tough
times I had when I came out to my dad and my mom.  He was there for me,
during all of that.  And, he was the one who finally got through to my dad,
telling Dad that I was still his son and that Dad was still my dad.
	Mike amazed me then.  He talked to my dad like his best friend, and
got my dad to see that life was really about love and friendship and
family, and that I was still his son.  So, now, Mike and my dad are good
friends.  They even go fishing sometimes, and leave me at home.  And,
sometimes, Dad will come over for a beer, and end up talking to Mike more
than he talks to me.  And, that's just fine with me.  It just makes me
happy all over to see my dad and my lover enjoying a ball game together,
sharing a beer, or going fishing.  And, my dad finally can understand me,
and be proud of me.
	"Hey, dream man.  Where've ya been?" Mike whispers, his arms still
pillared on each side of my chest.  I'd drifted off, thinking about my mom
and my dad and Mike and how we all got along now.
	I grinned.
	"Well, lover.  I was just thinking how happy you make me," I said.
"And, now I better show you how I really feel about you."
	And, I pushed him back, rolling him over, and began to make his
day.