Date: Fri, 21 Mar 2008 02:51:03 -0400 (EDT)
From: fratbear <fratbear@excite.com>
Subject: Sloan Cosgrove, Chapter 43 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 43: Goal

"Hey, fill me up a cup of your crappiest beer!" I could barely hear the
shouted words over the chaos of the crowd, even though the guy was only two
or three feet in front of me.

It was a Saturday night, and the Delt House was throwing a keg party with a
live band. It was nearing midnight, and I'd found myself serving keg duty,
stuck behind the bar with Billy, filling cup after plastic cup of foamy,
cheap beer for the assortment of party-goers. After about an hour, my thumb
was numb from pressing the tab on the nozzle to dispense the beer, and my
hands were sticky from the residue.

And now this guy was yelling to me that he wanted a crappy beer. Well, I
wasn't about to disappoint him. I handed him a cup that was half-foam and
half-Keystone Light.

"Thanks, bud!" he yelled as he took the beer, and I finally got a good look
at the guy. He had a big, stupid grin on his wide face. He was probably a
few inches shorter than me, clean-shaven but with a five o'clock shadow
that probably never went away. Stocky build. He looked like an athlete. He
was wearing a hockey jersey with the name "Franzler" written across it.

"No problem," I replied, not realizing that I was using my normal speaking
voice, and that he had no idea what I was saying.

"What?" he yelled back.

He turned his head and leaned towards me just as I leaned forward to repeat
what I'd said. I ended up giving him an accidental kiss on his cheek.

He pulled back and laughed heartily. "Hey, sorry, dude! But I usually like
to introduce myself before we go that far. Name's Tom." He pointed to the
name on his hockey jersey. "Tom Franzler."

He held out a hand, and I shook it. Our hands were so sticky with beer that
we had to peel our palms apart. "I'm Sloan."

"Yeah, I've heard stories about you," Tom bellowed. Before I could ask him
what he meant, he grinned and waved goodbye. "Well, see ya around."

He turned and disappeared into the crowd. For the next half hour, as I
continued my keg duty, I kept an eye open for him, but I didn't see him
again.

***

It was well after midnight when I stepped out of the bathroom, having just
washed the beer residue from my hands, and found myself in a sea of
people. Fortunately, most people step out of my way when they see someone
as big as me coming towards them, and so I had no problem wading my way
through the crowd.

As I came down the stairs, I heard a commotion coming from the dining room
of the house. It was pretty loud, considering that I could hear it over the
near-deafening music of the nearby band. Following the sounds of whoops and
catcalls, I pushed my way through to the dining room and finally saw what
all the excitement was about.

There was Tom Franzler, dancing his ass off on top of a big, wooden dining
table. He was clearly drunk as shit, and the crowd was only encouraging
him. He pulled off his hockey jersey, revealing a burly torso covered in
thick, dark hair. He started whipping his jersey around over his head like
a lasso as the crowd cheered him on.

And then he went for his pants, unbuttoning them as he gyrated to the music
coming from the other end of the house. Tom was performing a clumsy
striptease, slowly pushing his pants down to his knees. To my shock, he had
a full erection jutting against his boxers. He didn't seem to care as he
spun around, looking like he was going to tumble off the table, and kicked
his pants into the crowd.

I worked my way up to the table. There were some girls holding up dollar
bills, wanting to stuff them in his shorts. I pushed everybody away and
yelled at Tom.

"Hey, Tom!" He stopped dancing and looked around, confused about where it
came from. He then looked down at me and grinned.

"Hey, Sloan. How ya doin'?"

I picked up his hockey jersey, which was lying the on the table, and held
it up to him. "Look, I'm thinkin' you'll probably regret all this in the
morning, so maybe you should get dressed and come on off of there."

Tom cocked his head. "What time is it?"

I looked at my watch. "Twelve-thirty," I replied.

"Well, hell." Tom yelled at me. "It IS morning, and I don't got no
regrets!"

He reached down and did something even I wasn't prepared for. He yanked
down his shorts and kicked them off, letting his seven-inch erection pop
out for everyone to see.

I rolled my eyes, even as I tried to get a better look at his stocky, hairy
body. "Tom, maybe you should think about this."

"Hey, Sloan, you can blow me!" he yelled back.

I felt the anger rising in my throat. "Okay, Tom, I thought you were a cool
guy, but now you're pissing me off."

Tom knelt down until he was looking me in the eye. "No, really, Sloan. You
can blow me if you want." There was a pause as we eyed one another. "Do you
want to?"

More than anything at the moment, I thought, but I wasn't going to say
that. Tom laughed and lay down on the table in front of me, his legs
dangling over the edge. His throbbing dick was lying against his hairy
belly, just waiting for my mouth.

The crowd around us was yelling and screaming, goading me on even though
they probably had no idea what was going on. Amidst all this chaos, I let
out a measured sigh, then leaned over and swallowed his cock.

"Yes!" Tom screamed out as I started sucking on his pole in front of dozens
of drunken revelers. I bobbed my head up and down as if I were trying to
coax the cum from his balls.

For his part, Tom humped his hips, thrusting his shaft down my throat,
desperate to shoot his load. I did what I could to help him, prodding his
asshole with a finger as I fondled his balls with my hand. I couldn't hear
any other sounds he was making, but from the way he was writhing on the
table, I could tell he was liking it.

It only took a minute or two before Tom reared up and yelled. "Fuck me!" I
felt the hot jets of sperm shooting into my mouth, and I sucked on his
cock, swallowing his entire load. His body shook violently as he came, and
the spectators were getting a hell of a show.

The crowd cheered again as I pulled Tom's spent cock out of my mouth. I
smiled at him, wiping my mouth with his hockey jersey. He grinned back at
me with his same, stupid grin, and he nodded, sensing that I wasn't
satisfied, yet.

So I unbuckled my belt and pulled down my pants. As he lay on the table, I
stood before him, raising his legs into the air and putting them up on my
shoulders. Not wanting to waste a single moment, I pressed my cock against
his waiting asshole and pushed it in.

Tom cried out as my cock filled his ass, and it was probably a good thing
that the roar of the crowd drowned him out. My dick was probably a little
bigger than he had been expecting, and he needed to adjust to its painful
size.

I, on the other hand, was thoroughly enjoying the tightness of his ass,
fucking him with great enthusiasm. In the position we were in, we were able
to look at each other's faces as we fucked. I saw the pain soon subside
from his expression, until he was smiling in a drunken stupor.

I soon forgot that there were a hundred eyes watching us as I plowed Tom's
ass. I closed my eyes, letting it all overwhelm my senses. I felt the
pressure building up in my balls, and I knew it'd all be over in a minute.

I gritted my teeth as I came, letting out a few grunts that were inaudible
in the noise. My cock throbbed in Tom's ass as it spewed my fresh sperm
into his body.

Almost as soon as I finished cumming, I had a moment of clarity and
remembered where I was. I quickly pulled my dick out of Tom's ass and
pulled up my pants, looking down at his sweaty, worn-out body lying on the
table. He'd probably wake up in the morning with a bad hang-over, a sore
ass, and no memory of me whatsoever.

But before I could say anything to him, two pairs of powerful hands
suddenly grabbed me by the arms and started dragging me towards the door. I
yelled out in protest, but it was clear that my evening was only beginning.


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