Date: Mon, 5 Jul 2010 12:12:21 -0400
From: oldtimer25@gmail.com
Subject: Fighting Bears

Fighting Bears
by Ike


I love bears. I have since I first started sleeping with men. Gay men
debate what it means to be a "bear". For me, it mainly has to do with a
highly masculine attitude, more than with hair. I admit that, on the whole,
what turns me on the most is a very hairy, muscular man , preferably with
facial hair. A heavy mustache and a three day growth of beard really gets
my balls boiling. But if the ideal looking man is not very masculine, I am
not interested. On the other hand, I have been with very hot hairless
"bears", men who just oozed a strong masculine confidence. Blue collar
workers are an added bonus, as far as I am concerned. Muscles earned by
hard work are different then gym built muscles; and I have found that a gay
guy who works hard with his hands often has had to fight hard, sealing that
masculine aura in strong. Cock size is not important to me, but maturity is
- I have no use for a man under thirty. To me, a bear is "a REAL FUCKING
MAN"!  If a man ain't a bear, I might let him service me if there's no real
man around. But I try to spend all my time with fucking BEARS! Even my
straight men friends can be called bears.

Don't get me wrong, I'm no bottom. When asked, I define myself as a big
hairy bear top. Although I really love to fuck a hairy ass or a furry face,
my favorite encounters are when I meet a man, and we maneuver for position,
or, even better, wrestle or fight for who's top. I have had a few
relationships with bears where every time we got together, we started this
from scratch. Not knowing in advance who is going to do what to who is a
big turn on to me. If I end up with a fat cock pounding my ass, I don't
mind it a bit, as long as we struggled real hard to find out who`s really
"top bear" that night. Chances are the last time we got together, my big
dick ripped the same stud a new asshole.

Rugged sex has been a turn on to me for a long time. Not BDSM: just two or
more muscular, masculine men straining against each other to bring the best
out of each other`s hot, sweaty bodies. Punch me in my muscular pecs to get
my nipples stiff - not hard punches, but enough to let me know I`m being
handled by a tough man. And you better be able to put up with my
punches. If you're is going to be with me more than one night, you better
learn to really chew my tits, and you better be able to take my rough
treatment of yours. I'm not into spanking, but I dig a few hard swats on
our asses while we warm up. And like I said, wrestling is one of my
favorite ways to start sex with a bear.

This all has to do with how I discovered I was gay, in my mid
twenties. Until that night twenty years ago, I considered myself
straight. Yeah, sure, as a kid I participated in lots of "circle
jerks". But by high school I was dating a lot of girls, and at the end of
my freshman year I finally met a girl who would give me a hand job. Soon,
we were fucking regularly, and I even talked her into giving me head about
once a month, while I ate her pussy. I had been the first guy in my class
to sprout body hair in junior high school. By time I was in high school I
was pretty hairy. When I got to college at 17, very few of the men I would
see in the locker room had as much hair as me. The fact that I was checking
out other guy's bodies should have given me a clue, but all I knew was that
I had a very active sex life with a lot of women.

Frankly, I was in college only to avoid the draft for the Vietnam War. I
was a good student, but I wasn't interested in any particular academic
area. My family was totally blue collar. I was the first one to go to
college, but I actually preferred to be around "our kind of folks." I found
the spoiled rich bitch kids at school pretentious and condescending
phonies. I was more interested in fucking pussy, smoking reefer and
drinking huge amounts of beer in a cheap working class bar I discovered a
few blocks from campus. Participating in an occasional barroom brawl there
added real spice to my life. During my sophomore year, the war ended, so I
dropped out of school. I moved in with one of my girlfriends. I had trouble
finding a job at first, but she worked in a big department store, and found
out they had an opening in the furniture warehouse for a stockman. I took
the job and discovered that I liked it. I enjoyed the hard physical
labor. Although I had been in pretty good shape to begin with, lifting all
that furniture soon began to build me a really hot physique. Women loved my
new, bigger muscles, and to be honest, I loved my new body too. I loved the
easy masculine camaraderie that existed in this all male environment, where
even the clerical workers were men. I made some good friends.

My best friends were the two biggest men in the warehouse. One was my
partner, and nominal boss, Mike, a swarthy Turkish-American who was twelve
years older than me. He was at least 6'6", a big, muscular man who walked
with an easy, masculine swagger which I tried to imitate. He had black hair
and eyes, a thick mustache, and always needed a shave by three PM. I grew a
mustache, but it was never as thick as Mike's, and he would make friendly
jokes about it. We spent most of the day alone together. Summer came: We
began to work without shirts in the broiling hot warehouse, which was not
air-conditioned. I discovered that Mike was the hairiest fucking man I had
ever seen, with heavy black hair all over his body - his back and
shoulders, too. Since the men's room had one of those old fashioned trough
pissers, I had seen Mike's cock plenty of times, occasionally half hard. He
was the best hung man I had ever seen, and he liked to fish his massive
balls out when he pissed. Not quite 20 years old, I was immature enough to
idol worship Mike, and I began to do the same thing whenever I pissed.

My other new buddy was Mike's best friend, Sam. They were both divorced and
shared an apartment. He was about a year older than Mike. He was about
6'4", a red head with a trim mustache and gray eyes. He was even more
muscular than Mike, and had been a decorated Marine during the Korean
War. He wore his bright red hair very short, military style. Sam had a
quiet masculine authority that I hoped to develop as I matured. Sam always
wore his shirt unbuttoned to his waist, so I could see that he had a darker
red pelt not quite as heavy as my brown one. I was the "shrimp of the
gang", at 6'1", and they always playfully called me "The Kid" and
"Rookie". That summer, Sam began to wear muscle shirts that revealed a
"USMC - Semper Fi" tattoo on his left arm. I thought it looked real
cool. Both men had a son and a daughter each. The three of us ate lunch
together every day. They were nice, and the most masculine men I had ever
met, and the fact that they had accepted me made me feel good. I now had
two idols to imitate. I wanted to be a REAL fucking MAN, just like Mike and
Sam.

I needed a friendly he-man type stud to imitate and to accept me as a real
man. I was the youngest of six brothers. All five of my asshole brothers
were just like my dad and his brothers - hairless, very tall, muscular,
burly and stupid. I was much shorter, lithe instead of bulky, and smarter
than them all. All of them had been stars on the football team in high
school, before they each dropped out to go to work at the factory with Dad
and my uncles, and eventually got drafted. It was the same factory my
granddad and his father had worked at. They were all too stupid to learn to
use a fucking condom: eventually each knocked up a girl and was forced by
the men in her family to "do the right thing". When I skipped a grade in
elementary school, my brothers, my dad and my uncles all made fun of
me. The fact that I was a straight A student; the fact that I was the
shortest man in the family; the fact that I wasn't bulky enough to make the
fucking football team; the fact that I got a full academic scholarship to
an out of town college; the fact that I was avoiding the draft - these were
all ammunition used to "prove" that I wasn't a REAL man.

The only really hairy guy in the family, I was better than my brothers at
drinking and seducing women, which saved me from being called a "girl" or a
"faggot". In high school I became a very good fighter, able to hold my own
even with my brothers. I relished the times one of them would start a fight
with me and I could beat the shit out of him. None of them could understand
that a man could be real strong without being a hulking ape, and that speed
and brains were more important in a fight. They hated me for escaping from
the fucking factory; they called me "soft". I hated them because they were
cruel and lazy.

My becoming really close with these two men started one rainy Friday when
things were unusually quiet. By late in the afternoon, we had finished all
our work. Mike and I were sitting in front of an open window, smoking
cigarettes and bullshitting when Sam joined us. He pulled out a fat joint
and lit it up, passing it to me. By time we left work, we were high and
having a great time. They invited me to join them for a beer at the corner
bar. By the time I staggered home in the wee hours of the morning, I felt
really close to these two men, because I had drank both of the big men
under the fucking table! They were so drunk, I had to look in Mike's wallet
to find ID so I could give the cab driver their address, and to get money
to pay the driver in advance to make sure they got in the door of their
apartment.

After that, I had a standing invitation to go drinking with them a couple
of nights a week in this tough bar they liked. Since the woman I was living
with worked evenings, I was happy to have something to do other than watch
the idiot box. I loved to hang out with my two role models for what I had
come to think of as "real men", and I do love to drink beer. Unfortunately,
I love sex more. About once or twice a month I would pick up women at the
bar to take to my girlfriend's apartment for sex, setting the alarm clock
for 1/2 hour before she got off duty. This went on for over two years. I
gave detailed accounts of the sex to Mike and Sam the next day at lunch,
and they started calling me "The Cock-man" and "Little Stud". Eventually,
following the little head between my legs got me into trouble. A beautiful
woman began to hang out at "our" bar, and I invited her back to the
apartment to fuck, since my girlfriend wouldn't be home for at least three
hours. I had the stereo blasting while I pounded into her pussy, and I
didn't hear my girlfriend come home early, having fallen and twisted her
ankle badly. In less than an hour, I was on the sidewalk with all my
possessions around me.

I found a cab and went to the Y. The next day at lunch, my two buddies
asked me about my latest sexual conquest. I confessed to the disaster, and
they fell off their chairs laughing. "It had to fucking happen some day,
Cock-man," cackled Mike."

"Serves you right for fucking around on your woman," crowed Sam.

I had heard warehouse gossip that both their divorces were the result of
their being caught in the sack. I got angry. "From what I hear, you
assholes both got the heave-ho by your wives for being with the wrong
person in bed. So get off my fucking case!"

They got quiet and looked at each other, than nodded. "You want the whole
story, Kid?" asked Mike.

"Hell, yes."

"OK. It's Friday. You'll come over to our place for dinner, and we will
tell you the whole story."

"It's a fucking date!" I had only been to their place a few times for poker
games, and never actually saw any of it but the living room and the can.

That night, I stopped in a convenience store to buy four six-packs to go
with dinner and our talk. They left me sitting in the living room as they
prepared dinner. We sat down and ate, drinking the beer I had bought. We
cleaned up, then went back to the table, smoked some dope and drank boiler
makers. After about two hours of this, I insisted they finally tell me the
stories of their divorces.

Mike said "It's the same story. Our wives found the two of us fucking each
other in the basement."

I stared at my two heroes. "You guys are fucking faggots???"

Sam grabbed my shirt and pulled me so that his face was up against
mine. "Never call us faggots again, ass wipe" he barked in good Marine
style. "We only fuck with real men, not fucking pansy faggot queers. Men
like us- strong, capable and masculine."

"How did you two get started doing this shit?"

Sam started: "I got held down and gang raped my first month in the Marines
as `punishment' for reporting a fellow recruit for a minor infraction. The
rough treatment was more of a turn on than the best whore I ever fucked. I
had tough sex with other Marines, and some other service men, on a regular
basis after that. That kind of manly sex is more common that you would
think in the service, but the limp-wristed civilian faggot always turned me
off. When I got out, I tried to forget about it, and married my high school
girlfriend to prove to myself I was all man, knocking her up on our
honeymoon. I was loyal to my wife, although I missed the rough, rugged sex
Marines can share. I met Mike at the warehouse and we became buddies. Our
wives liked each other and became friends, so we four spent a lot of time
together. One night, we were alone in Mike's basement, repairing a broken
chair. Our wives had taken the kids to a movie as a treat. We were more
than a little drunk, and I found myself telling Mike about my Marine
experiences with rugged men."

Mike continued: "I told Sam about some shit that happened when I was in the
Army. The men in my outfit had a long standing tradition of holding nights
of fight matches. The loser of each match got fucked in the ass or mouth by
the winner in front of the whole outfit. I was one of the best fighters in
the unit, and got 'drafted' for matches regularly by the "sarge". Sometimes
I won, sometimes I lost, but either way the load I shot was more intense
than any I had ever shot with a woman. I also couldn't stand civilian
fairies. Like Sam, I discovered that there were plenty of masculine service
men who enjoyed hard pounding sex with another tough stud. I had married my
wife before I was drafted. If I hadn't, I might have explored my attraction
to rugged men when I got out. After I got home, I forgot about it until
that night in the basement."

"My story turned Sam on a lot, and he suggest we fight to see who got
fucked right then. We made a big space in the basement, and stripped. We
both had rock solid woodies, and we shoved Vaseline in each other's asses,
like we did in the Army. We fought for a long time, and Sam finally knocked
me down. He pounced on me, rolled me over, and fucked the shit out of
me. We both loved it. After Sam shot his load up my ass, I got him in a
wrestling hold and slipped my cock in his ass. He howled in anger, but shot
another load as I came in his ass. We heard a gasp, and looked up. Our
wives had just come home from the movies, heard the noise and had come down
to see what was going on. There was no explaining away my cock in Sam's
ass, or the long string of cum trailing from his cock across the floor. By
time we had gotten dressed and upstairs, our wives had taken the kids and
left. They all moved to Sam's wife's house, which she had inherited from
her grandmother. They both filed for divorce the next week, but spared our
kids the true story. We didn't contest the divorce. Our wives and kids all
live together now, and we can only see our kids once a month."

I stared at them with my mouth open in shock, standing up. "You perverts!
That's fucking sick!"

"Don't judge it till you've experienced it, Kid."

"What the fuck do you mean by that, Mike?"

"You have a choice. Fight one of us for sex, or we will hold you down and
rape your mouth and ass."

"You are out of your fucking, faggot minds!" Sam sucker-punched me in the
head, and I fell to the floor.

"I warned you, punk! Call us faggots again and I'll break your fucking
neck!"

Mike sneered, "What's the matter, Kid? Afraid you're not man enough to take
one of us old farts on? You a faggot chicken, BOY?" I was too drunk to
realize I was being manipulated into doing what they wanted, but to have
these two fairy perverts call ME a "faggot chicken" made my blood boil. I
tried to think. I didn't want to be raped by these two fruits. If I fought
one of then, I had a chance to win, get my rocks off and get the hell out
of there.

I wasn't afraid to fight. I came from a rough blue collar neighborhood
where we used our fists a lot and fought to wipe the ground with the
mother-fucker if at all possible. In my teen years I had put a couple of
guys in the hospital with my fists (including two of my older brothers),
and had spent a few nights in jail after some of those barroom brawls. I
had never had a reason to mention any of this to these guys. I also never
thought to mention the fact that in high school I had been on the wrestling
team, or that I had spent a semester on the boxing team in college. Sam had
been trained to kill with his bare hands in the Marines, so I decided my
chance were better with Mike, even though he was the bigger guy. I was a
lot younger than these guys, so I was probably faster.

"OK, you mother-fuckers. I'll beat the crap out of Mike, fuck his hairy ass
and get as far away from you two freaks as I can!" We went into a small
room with was no furniture. The floor was covered with a giant wrestling
mat, with benches built along three walls with space to hang clothes above
them. We stripped. I gulped, imagining Mike's massive cock ripping me a new
asshole, but I was too angry to back down. Sam announced that since I
didn't know the routine, he would grease both our asses. He took a big jar
of Vaseline from the shelf, sat on a bench, and had Mike stand in front of
him. Mike grabbed his ankles; Sam began to stuff the grease in his ass. I
sat naked on a bench, eyes closed, psyching myself up for the fight.

Sam called to me. Mike was greased, and his big cock was hard and drooling
pre-cum. I was happy to see that unlike me, Mike's prick was only slightly
bigger when hard. (I`m one of those guys whose cock grows a lot from soft
to hard.). Hard, he only had about two or three inches on me, and my 9 1/2"
erection would be almost as fat as Mike's. I took a deep breath and walked
over to Sam, grabbing my ankles like Mike had done. He slowly inserted one
heavily greased finger in my tight ass, like a doctor during a physical. He
moved it around, I was surprised that it felt sort of nice. He pulled it
out, and inserted two greased fingers. At first that hurt, but after a
short time of his moving it around, I discovered I liked it. I knew some
guys who liked their girlfriends to shove a finger in their ass when they
were getting a blow job; now I understood why. He worked more grease in,
and managed to get in a third big finger. It only took a few seconds for
the pain of that new invasion to turn to pleasure. I was surprised to
realize that I was getting hard. Sam worked in more grease, and then
slapped my ass hard. "You're ready, punk. Go out there and do your best!
Remember, the only rule is no shots to your opponent's balls. Do that, and
you lose to both of us."

Mike and I stood across the room from each other, slowly beating our hard
cocks. He gave a low whistle when he saw my hard dick. As we got near each
other, Mike punched me in my pecs a few times. I was surprised to find that
my nipples were getting hard, so I did the same to him. I fell into a
wrestlers stance, and Mike grinned, doing the same. We maneuvered for
position. I decided to strike fast to surprise Mike, and I lunged for
him. Our bodies slapped against each other, and the fight was on. It wasn't
a wresting match - we punched each other in the guts and the face. At one
point, I kicked Mike in the ass, more for psychological reasons than
strategic ones. Soon, I felt blood in my mouth, and Mike's right eye was
getting swollen shut from my punches. Mike kicked me in the guts, showing
me it was really a no hold barred fight. I let loose like I used to on the
streets back home. I began to deliver a series of hard body blows to Mike's
guts. After a few minutes of that, he fell to his knees. I kicked him in
the guts twice and he fell down. I jumped on him, and began to use his face
as a punching bag. "Uncle! You fucking win, Kid!" We had fought for a half
hour, and I was totally turned on.

Mike smiled up at me. "You're one fucking good fighter, Kid! That was real
hot. Now, ready to fuck my ass?"

"Fucking A! I've never been hornier in my fucking life!"

 "How do you want it, Kid?"

"Huh?"

"Me on my belly, doggy style, or me on my back with my legs over my head?
Personally, I prefer to look at the man I`m fucking."

"Sounds good to me! Spread 'em, Mike!"

He grabbed his legs and spread his ass wide. We were both covered in
sweat. "Hey, Kid. Don't treat my ass like a fucking pussy. I expect it
rough and hard!"

I grabbed my cock and aimed it at his hairy asshole. I rammed in balls deep
on my first stroke. He grimaced from the pain, and I felt like the king of
the world. I had never had my dick in such a hot, tight hole. I started off
slow, to prolong the pleasure, but Mike was yelling at me "Harder! Faster!
Fuck my balls off, Kid!" Soon I was pounding into that tight ass harder and
faster than I had ever fucked a pussy. "Kid, I'm going to shoot my load,
you hot fucking bastard! You're making me cum without touching my cock! Aw,
FUCK!!!!!" Suddenly, cum shot like a geyser up between our bodies,
splattering my face and our hairy bodies..

If I thought his ass was tight before, the spasms in his guts as he shot
his load were a miracle. I kept ramming my cock into him as he
spasmed. "Fuck, Mike. Your ass is so hot! I can't hold it back. Get ready
to take real man's load in your fucking ass, you horny mother fucker!
Shit!!! ARRGH!!" I shot the biggest load of my life in my buddy's guts. I
was so hot and shooting so much, I thought I was cumming blood after a
while. I fell on him and we lay there, trying to catch our breaths.

"So, Kid, how was it?"

"I take back everything I said, Sam. I never had a hotter time in my life."

"Good. Take a nice hot shower, then come in the living room, have a drink
and rest."

"Sounds good, but why?"

"Because I challenge you to a fight in two hours time."

"Fucking A, man! Your hairy ass is MINE, Sam!"

Two hours later, I was back in that room, Mike doing the ass greasing. Sam
was the "shrimp of the gang" as far as pricks went. Hard, his uncut cock
was only about 7", and sort of skinny. We fought hard for over twenty
minutes. My left eye swelled shut; blood flowed from Sam's nose. I was
tired, and lost. It didn't matter to me. I was hard and horny, and ready to
take my punishment. Since it as the first time I was taking a dick up my
ass, Sam suggested that he lay on his back and ease my ass onto his hard
on.

"No, I want my first time to be as tough as you guys got it your first
times. If you could take it then, I can take it now!. How do you want it,
Sam."

"Doggy style, punk boy!" I got on all fours and he eased his cock into my
ass. He fucked me slowly for a dozen strokes, and I found myself really
getting into it.

"Hey, asshole, what do you think that is, a fucking pussy? Fuck me like a
real man, you son of a bitch!" He rammed into me hard and fast, and my
balls began to heat up like they were filled with lava. "Oh, yeah,
Sam. Fuck me like you really mean it, man! Ugh! HARDER, MOTHER FUCKER!
Ugh!"

Mike walked over with his big hard on, grabbed my head and forced his cock
into my mouth. I took the head and about 2 inches in my mouth. I liked the
taste, and tried to do the things on his cock I liked women to do to me
with their mouths. He obviously enjoyed it, because in five or six minutes,
I had a mouth full of cum. Without thinking, I swallowed, loving the taste.

"Kid, you have the tightest fucking ass I've ever fucked. Get ready to take
a load of my seed in your ass, Kid." The hot flood in my guts felt
great. When Sam pulled out, I shoved him down, ramming my cock into his
mouth. He gave me the best blow job I had ever had, taking me all down his
throat, and in a few minutes I shot another load.

I ended up sleeping the spare room that night. The next morning, I watched
my two giant buddies grease each other's asses and then fight for over 20
minutes. Sam lost, and I almost nutted watching Mike pound his giant prod
into Sam's hairy ass. They shot their loads at the same time. I challenged
Sam, and three hours later, I was fucking his ass, having actually knocked
the Marine out! (I have to admit, it was a lucky punch.) Mike told me their
rule was to climb on and fuck the unconscious man, so I did. Sam came to
with my cock pounding in his guts, and pushed his way to his knees so Mike
could fuck his face.

Mike challenged me, and I lost. He also wanted to go easy on me, but my
masculine pride insisted he give it to me as hard as he got it. When his
fat giant speared into me, I was sure I was going to split in two. He
pounded away, and I gritted my teeth not to scream in pain, convinced that
he was causing me internal damage. But suddenly, his cock prodding my
prostrate turned the pain into a hot glow, and I began to push back to get
more of his cock further in my ass. For the first time in my life, I came
with out a hand or mouth or pussy on my cock, just the delicious pressure
of a big cock rubbing my ass nut raw.

The guys told me that I was the wildest fighter they had been with in many
years, and that had excited them to fight harder than usual. None of their
usual partners would go so all out, treating it like a real street fight,
no hold barred. Our faces were totally fucked up as a result. Monday
morning, we had to lie and say that we were in a bar room brawl to explain
our black eyes and split lips.

I wasn't an instant convert. The guys invited me to move the spare bedroom
from the Y. I did, with the understanding that I was still screwing
women. This lasted a few more months. I remember the last night I had a
woman in the apartment. As I was trying to fuck her, Sam and Mike were
fighting in the next room. All I wanted was an excuse to get out of bed and
go watch them, or better yet, fight, too. The only reason I was able to cum
with her was the sounds Sam made while Mike rammed his big dong into his
hole.

I found myself looking at men as possible sex partners more often than
women. About once a week, we three fought and fucked. To prevent further
damage to our faces, we bought some boxer's sparing masks and very
lightweight gloves. Then came the night I didn't feel like fighting, just
fucking. At my urging, we climbed into their king sized bed and explored
each other's bodies for an entire night. That was the night I learned to
swallow all of Mike's giant dong. The next morning I started to admit that
I was "bi".

After I moved in, I discovered that most of the guys I had met at those
poker games were into the same sort of rugged sex games we were into. A few
at a time, they would come to the apartment and we would spend the night
having fights, watching the resulting hot sex. They were all happy with the
introduction of the protective equipment, since they had always been tagged
as "trouble makers" or "drunken brawlers" by outsiders because of their
frequent black eyes and swollen faces.

One guy, Steve, really turned me on, although I never got the chance to
fight him. Although he was very muscular, masculine and hairy, he was
smaller than me and a novice fighter. I kept thinking about him, hoping I'd
have a chance to challenge the smaller guy to a fucking fight, which was
against the informal rules of the club - you were supposed to only
challenge a guy your size or bigger, or one everyone recognized as a
superior fighter, or at least your equal. When I realized how much I wanted
to have sex with him, I finally accepted that I was gay. For the first time
since I had moved in with Sam and Mike, I organized a poker game, limiting
the guest list to my roommates, 2 guys I knew were lovers, and Steve. At my
request, both couples were unusually affectionate to each other during the
game.

Steve and I would stare at each other every timeone of the couples started
kissing. During the course of the evening, I was pleased to discover that
Steve was turned on by me, too, so I invited him to spend the night. We
ended up spending the weekend fucking and sucking each other without ever
having fought, but our sex was so vigorous that we both ended up with lots
of bruises by Sunday night.

That was twenty years ago. I went back to college, and today I am the Vice
President of operations for the whole chain. Mike and Sam are retired,
still living and fighting and fucking together. Their friendly little
'fight club' continues to grow - over 300 members in 20 branches in 12
cities. When I bought my house, I picked one with a large attic which I
converted to a big fighting gym, complete with a regulation boxing ring.

I keep in shape, and keep fighting with bears, looking for the one stud I
can settle down with. I thought that I have come close a few years ago with
a red bear 15 years younger than me who I met at the gym. He asked me if I
had ever wrestled, and I told him about my sex life. It turned him on
immensely, although he was straight. Later that night, I lost to him. He
told me he had never been as turned on by a woman as he was when he forced
his 8 hard inches into my ass, and that until that night he had always felt
he had to hold back when fucking so he wouldn't hurt the woman. Really
letting go and fucking as hard as he could was a revelation to him. The
next time we fought I won. He loved the rough fucking I gave him as much as
he had loved fucking him. The next few times we fought, he lost. Finally I
realized that he wasn't trying very hard to win, having decided he liked a
cock pounding his ass. Although we continued to fuck, I was disappointed
that he wasn`t the real challenge that I crave.

So, I keep hunting.

Wanna wrestle, bear?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Copyright 2005 "Ike"

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