Date: Fri, 22 Feb 2008 12:47:11 -0500 (EST)
From: fratbear <fratbear@excite.com>
Subject: Sloan Cosgrove, Chapter 35 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 35: New Class

They say time flies when you're having fun, and I'm not one to argue with
that. Sophomore year was zipping by at a good clip, and before I knew it,
spring had sprung, and it was time for a new stock of freshmen to rush the
Delt House.

In a move that I saw as a bit of perverse irony, I was named one of the
fraternity's two pledge educators for the fresh meat. My public display of
abuse of my own pledge educator Lorne the previous year was clearly fresh
in everybody's mind. I think they thought I'd be one of the toughest
educators they'd ever had.

They should've known better, though, having had a year to get used to my
laid-back, lazy demeanor. In fact, I was planning to surprise my freshman
charges with how laid-back and easy-going the pledge period and Hell Week
were going to be.

This, however, didn't mean that I'd leave out the embarrassment and
humiliation that are the hallmarks of pledging a fraternity. It didn't
help, though, that I couldn't have asked for a nicer, well-mannered, and--
most importantly for me-- cutest group of barely post-adolescent bears and
cubs. Again, the other Delts must have designed this to be a form of
special, good-natured torture for me.

Two of the pledges I was assigned to educate immediately caught my
attentive eye. The first was Nick Baxter, whom I already knew from the
football team. He was a freshman recruit who hadn't gotten to play in a
single game his first season, who then suffered an injury during practice
that pretty much ended his football career. He was a nice guy, with a
doughy frame that wasn't very muscular but not very fat, either. What
appealed to me most were his killer looks, his gray puppy-dog eyes and
shortly-cropped hair that was so consistently mussed that it seemed
deliberate. Plus, Nick had a goatee that added to his perfect features
rather than disguised any flaws.

My second eye-catching pledge couldn't have been more different than Nick,
except that he also had a goatee. Billy Grissom was a pudgy good ole boy
from Alabama with big round eyes and a crew-cut that was probably a bad
idea in light of his thinning hair and just-on-the-verge-of receding
hairline. The funny thing about Billy was that whenever he went out in
public, he'd always be dressed to the nines. I'm talking about dress
slacks, dress shirt, and even occasionally a tie. It was as if he were
trying to disguise his redneck upbringing, and it usually worked, until he
opened his mouth and let loose with his thick-as-molasses Southern
drawl. He looked like he might've been hiding a burly, bearish body under
his yuppie threads, but I had no way to tell.

Although Nick and Billy were the focus of my attention, this isn't to say
that the other four pledges were complete losses. Shaun was short, squat,
muscular wrestler whose proclivity for muscle shirts earned him a few
plusses in my book. Fozzie was only slightly stocky, but he was the only
pledge with a full beard. Bruce was a rugby player, and you already know
how I feel about rugby ballers. And Jed was a quiet, enigmatic nerd trapped
in a bear's body.

During the pledge period, I managed to get to know each of the guys fairly
well. I think they came to think of me as a buddy, telling me stories about
growing up in their hometowns, or in the case of Nick, going into great
detail about how he lost his virginity, even though he was now worried that
his bearish figure was responsible for his recent lack of sex. Or Jed
confessing to me that he was still a virgin. The pledges would spill these
intimate details to me despite the fact that they knew that the Olympics of
humiliation known as Hell Week was fast approaching, and that I would be
presiding over their humiliation.

So I decided to start Hell Week with the most humiliating but essential
activity, just to get it out of the way. It was the same way that Lorne had
kicked off the week last year. And so when I stepped into my room, I found
my pledges standing nervously around the milk crate I'd plunked down on the
floor. From the way they shut up the moment I arrived, I could tell that
they'd been engaged in the same kind of anxious speculation that my fellow
pledges and I had done the previous year.

"Okay, plebes," I bellowed as I took the infamous shot glass out of my desk
drawer and set it down on the milk crate. "You're gonna do something that I
had to do last year. That every member of this fraternity has had to do for
decades, and I don't want to hear a single grumble from any of you, okay?"

"What do we have to do?" Billy asked in his Southern twang, even now decked
out in his finest Gap khakis and Van Heusen dress shirt.

"Well, folks," I replied, "I'm not gonna sugar-coat it, so I'll just tell
you what's expected. You boys are gonna jerk off into this here shot
glass." Before they could react too strongly, I plowed through my
speech. "And you might as well get over the discomfort I'm sure you're all
feeling, 'cause I had to go through this last year, and I got no
sympathy. The last one to shoot his load has to clean toilets for the
remainder of the week, so I suggest you whip out those dicks of yours and
start rubbing 'em out."

I sat back in my chair and folded my arms with authority, watching the guys
squirm as they shifted their weights from foot to foot, wondering who'd be
the first to pull his dick out. As a matter of fact, I was curious, too,
guessing that sexually-frustrated Nick would be the first.

I was completely wrong. In fact, it only took buttoned-up, repressed Billy
about five seconds of thinking before he unzipped his khakis and pulled out
his cock, which he worked with his fingers into an impressive seven-inch
erection.

Seeing Billy starting to masturbate seemed to open the floodgates for the
others. Everybody else reached into their pants and released their dicks,
trying frantically to get hard. Nick and Jed were quick to rise to the
occasion, and I attributed this to their sexual droughts. Fozzie had always
struck me as a chronic masturbator, and I knew that Bruce and Shaun got
more frequent action in bed, and so they weren't as primed for to manually
stimulate themselves at the moment. Nevertheless, soon even they were
standing around that milk crate, beating their meat furiously to avoid
being the last to cum.

I was pretty impressed with Nick's dick, which was just about the most
perfect piece of meat I'd ever seen in my illustrious sexual career. It was
probably almost as long as my own eight-and-a-half inch rod, but his was
straight as an arrow and, from what I could see as his fingers worked the
shaft, perfectly symmetrical. I was practically licking my lips, aching to
just go over and swallow it whole, but I restrained myself, leaning back
and adjusting the front of my pants to hide my straining erection.

I noticed that all of the guys had their eyes close, deep in
concentration... everyone except Billy. I could see Billy's deep brown eyes
glancing at his fellow pledges. He seemed to be getting off at the sight of
freshmen meat being pounded in his buddies' fists.

Billy's eyes darted briefly over to me, and he caught me staring at
him. Realizing that he'd been caught checking out the others pledges'
cocks, he quickly closed his eyes and started pumping his seven-incher
until clear precum started to dribble out of the tip like drool.

"Uh..." Billy suddenly grunted as his body thrust forward. The other
pledges opened their eyes and looked at him as a long strand of cum blasted
from his cock and splattered across the milk crate, only a few drops of it
managing to actually land inside the shot glass. Billy arched back and
stuck his dick out as he massaged out more dollops of cum that dripped onto
the crate.

He opened his eyes and looked down at his cum-coated cock, wiping as much
of it off with his thumb and index finger as he could. He was obviously
trying to avoid getting any cum onto his expensive slacks. He looked around
my room, looking for something to wipe off his hand with. Seeing that I
wasn't going to offer him a cum rag, he did something that surprised even
me. Billy actually raised his hand to his mouth and licked it clean. The
others were clearly startled by the sight of Billy eating his own cum, but
they didn't say anything. After all, what COULD they say when they
themselves were in the midst of a circle jerk?

Jed climaxed the same way that he lived his life... very quietly. Not even
the slightest gasp or moan. He just clenched his teeth, squeezed his eyes
shut, and squirted cum out of his throbbing cock, almost missing the shot
glass entirely. When his orgasm ended, he just opened his eyes and grinned
bashfully.

Bruce's tight, muscular body, and Shaun's bulky, stocky body both started
trembling almost in unison as they both huffed and groaned. Jerking their
cocks furiously, they came together, shooting a majority of their cum into
the shot glass, which was nearly half-full by the time they were done.

Fozzie started cumming immediately after Bruce and Shaun finished. As soon
as he hit his climax, he stopped pumping his shaft, aiming it right at the
shot glass as his white juice blasted forth and mixed with the other
pledges' sperm deposits.

That left just Nick, who was beating on his cock as if he didn't know that
he'd already lost the race. The others just watched him as high-pitched
pitiful whimpers started to escape from his mouth. I could see the muscles
in his broad shoulders tightening as he leaned forward, his body lurching
up over and over again.

"Oh, fuck," he gasped as his big cock pumped out thick volleys of milky
white cum, enough to almost fill the shot glass to the top. His body heaved
violently as he cried out. "Ahhh!" The others seemed surprised by the
amount of passion in Nick's orgasm. His dick continued to squirt out more
cum, until I was sure he had none left in his balls.

Finally, Nick settled back, rubbing his softening, still-impressive cock
with his fingers, cum dripping onto his shorts. As everybody started
tucking their dicks back into their pants, I just leaned back in my chair,
crossing my arms, trying to hide the fact that I was desperate to get them
out of the room so I could jerk off.

"Very good, plebes," I said with as much authority as I could. "Good
job. You may go. Nick, I expect those bathrooms to be sparkling tomorrow
night."

The pledges all sighed and filed out of my room, closing the door behind
them. They were probably re-evaluating their opinions of me, wondering if
I'd just been pretending to be their buddy and big brother. In fact, at the
moment they probably thought I was an asshole. I didn't care. I had
something else occupying my mind.

As soon as they were gone from my room, I leapt to my feet and ran over to
the milk crate, picking up the cum-covered shot glass and swallowing its
contents in one gulp while the cum cocktail was still warm.

Savoring the taste of my pledges' cum still in my mouth, I fished my aching
cock out of my pants and started to beat off, taking only a few seconds
before I added another layer of cum to the already thoroughly soiled milk
crate.


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