A Bear in the Woods It was a beautiful spring morning that beckoned me out of bed and into my hiking gear. The lake, on which I had taken a small cabin for a week, was surrounded by state forest and had many walking trails, and I was eager to get out and explore. I walked at a leisurely yet constant pace for hours, stopping here and there to admire the picturesque scenery of this beautiful area. It wasn't until my stomach rumbled that I thought about heading back. I set a brisk pace back in the direction I thought I had come from, but it became apparent very quickly that the trail I had chosen was leading me away from where I wanted to go. I wasn't in a panic, because I was on a marked trail and it was obviously well used, so I knew I'd be OK, but it was a little disconcerting. I figured if I headed for the lake, then stuck to the shore line I would eventually find my way back to the cabin. Finding the lake when you're surrounded by forest is harder than it may sound, especially when the paths (which I didn't want to leave) kept winding around. Eventually I walked over a slight rise and could see the glinting of water through the trees. I crashed my way through the branches, excited to be so close to the lake again. I my haste I lost my footing and stumbled. My left leg got wedged amongst some roots and I overbalanced, twisting my ankle painfully. I hobbled out onto the sandy shore of the lake, relieved to be out in the open air again but annoyed and frustrated at my clumsiness. I removed my boots and tied them together and wore them around my neck. Using a stick for support, I set off, knowing it would be a long, painful journey back. I made slow progress for about an hour, until I eventually lay down to rest. My ankle was really painful now, and I was hot, hungry and tired. I closed my eyes and rested. "Are you OK there buddy?" I awoke to a man's voice. I was startled. I had fallen asleep. I winced with pain as I tried to get up, my ankle reminded me of what had happened. I focussed on the man. "I've sprained my ankle?" I answered. I felt foolish, especially the way he was looking at me. He stood over me, hands on hips, staring with a quizzical look on his face. "You need some ice on that." He said in a serious voice, before stooping down and picking me up. He was about my height, but barrel chested and with arms and legs like tree trunks. Dark black hair covered most of his body that I could see and a full beard. He carried me over to his kayak and placed me in the front. After pushing off and jumping in, surprisingly nimbly for such a solid guy, a few powerful strokes of his short arms on the paddle had us away. We soon arrived at the small broken down jetty that stood before his small shack. After tying off he pulled me up by the hands. I stood up on one leg but before I could step onto the jetty he again scooped me up and carried me to the little porch and sat me down on a big wooden chair. The shack looked clean and neat from where I sat, very much the place of a single man. Everything was ordered, practical, but there were no frills. He fossicked around in an ice box before emerging with a bucket of ice. He placed it before me and told me to place my foot in it. It hurt a little as I pushed through the ice but the relief was almost instant. "Just remember to take it out every now and then, so as it don't get too cold." He seemed to know what he was talking about, so I asked him how he knew so much about first aid. This started a conversation about what he did and where he was from. We chatted for quite some time. He was easy going and very softly spoken, and he showed genuine concern for me and my ankle. He served us icy cold lemonade from big beer glasses as he talked. Eventually he suggested that I stay for lunch, and that when the swelling had gone down, he would strap my ankle, then paddle me back across the lake to my cabin. Because it was hot he suggested he's take me back later on when it was cooler. I thanked him and readily agreed to his plan – not that I could do much else. It was hot. Stinking hot in fact. So hot that after a delicious lunch, and a few beers to wash it down with he suggested a swim. Before I could respond he had torn off his clothes and dived into the water. I followed, a little slower than he, as more ankle, although much better, was still sore. The water was lovely and cool and we played around together, splashing, dunking, the usual nonsense. We were having fun, until suddenly I noticed him turning his face away from me. As I swum around him he kicked his legs so that his back was always facing me. I tried several times to swim under him but he would see me and swim away from me. I wondered if perhaps I had accidentally kicked him in the balls as we were fooling around. "Hey, are you ok?" I asked. He ignored me so I swum up behind him and grabbed him on the shoulder. He pulled away from me but I used the leverage I had to pull myself around him and grab him by each arm, pulling myself into his chest. Immediately I realise his problem. His cock was rock hard. His face turned red with embarrassment. He pushed me away and swam to the jetty. "I'm sorry man. When I saw your hot little butt I was instantly horny, but I thought I could handle things. Then we started playing around in the water – it all got too much. But I don't want to give you a hard time or nothing – we're cool - just give me some time – I'll get over it." He mumbled. "Hey, it's cool. I didn't realise I was having that effect on you. I'm sorry." I answered, swimming a little away from him. Gee, what a nice guy, I thought to myself. So many guys I had met immediately blamed you for their erections, and expected you to take care of it for them. He had been so nice and kind to me, and here he was feeling all sick and sad – just because he'd sprouted a little wood. "Hey, don't you apologise – you've done nothing wrong. I'm the one with the problem. He answered sadly. Damn it, he was so down on himself, but I knew just how to cheer him up, and it would be a great way of thanking him for helping me as he had. I swum up behind him and said, "Hey, why don't you let me take care of that for you?" Before he could answer I had reached around and grabbed his cock. It was short but very thick. I stroked it slowly with my right hand and cupped his big hairy balls with my left. He groaned and started to thrust his hips in time with my strokes. "Why don't you sit up on the jetty for me?" I whispered in his ear. He didn't reply, but sprung out of the water like a dolphin and spun around, placing his buttocks carefully on the old wooden slats of the jetty, before letting his legs slide back into the water, one each side of my head. Immediately I pulled myself up and engulfed his fat cock in my mouth. He was more than a mouthful, but I managed to establish a rhythm, bobbing my head up and down, as the water lapped against my body. He was very vocal and grunted and groaned and swore as I went about repaying his kindness. I could feel his climax building and I prepared to receive his cum, when all of a sudden he pulled my head back, got onto his feet, and scooped me up out of the water. He carried me like a baby up the jetty and inside his little cabin. "Did I do something wrong?", I managed to ask as he manoeuvred me through the tiny bedroom door. "No way!" He answered enthusiastically, "It's just that I got a better idea! I'm gonna fuck you!" With that he lowered me to the bed and lay on top of me. He was covered in thick black hair and it tickled and prickled my white, hairless body, as he crushed me under his considerable weight. His tongue pushed inside my mouth and prevented me from uttering even the slightest protest. I'd offered him a head job out of gratitude, and because I thought he was genuinely feeling embarrassed about his erection. I had never bargained on this. My emotions coursed through my veins like the turbid currents of a flash flood. I was disgusted at the touch of his sweaty, hairy, fat body and yet overwhelmed by his gentleness and strength. I didn't want him all over me and yet my cock stood hard and defiantly betrayed my true feelings. I was annoyed and offended by his arrogance in that he expected to fuck me with his short, fat cock, but at the same time I wanted him to. More than that, I wanted him to defile me, to take me, to have me, to fuck me, to use me - to hurt me. His stubby fingers invaded my ass urgently, and he continued to massage my cock and balls, and kiss my body with his prickly mouth, overwhelming my senses and confusing my instincts. In one easy motion he flipped me over onto all fours and got behind me. He clasped my ass so tightly and spread it so wide I thought he was going to tear me in two. Then he pushed inside me. I groaned loudly as his thickness surged into me, half out of shock and half out of relief that he had relaxed the vice like grip on my ass. I rejoiced in the sensation of that fat cock pushing inside me. I pushed back hard, forcing every last millimetre into me and causing him to moan with surprise and delight. I felt so completely powerless. He was in complete control and this was strange to me. I had always controlled my lovers - I let them have me if I wanted them, I chose when and where and how. I decided who fucked me. I'd knocked back plenty of offers, from some really hot guys. Here I was being torn apart by a guy I didn't particularly fancy at all. He had just helped himself, and was fucking me like a machine. Damn it, why was I enjoying it so much? "Fuck me hard with that big fat cock you animal", I screamed, closing my eyes and throwing my head back in ecstasy. I started to push back hard with each urgent thrust. "Oh,Oh,Oh!" I yelled involuntarily each time he rammed it home. He joined in with a possessed "Uh,Uh,Uh!" of his own, as he obeyed my order and started to pound into me. Our clashing skin made a slapping sound and the bed was rocking to and fro, squeaking annoyingly whilst the bed head banged rhythmically against the worn timber wall of the bedroom. Pictures, mementoes and clothes, dislodged from their previously secure hooks and mantles crashed to the floor. With a cry that surely was heard clear across the lake he grabbed my shoulders and slammed in harder that any man had ever done before. The force sent me face first into the pillows at the head of the bed in an exhausted, sweating, panting, blushing, overwhelmed heap. He followed and crashed on top of me, crushing me with his sweat soaked hairy masculinity. His limp cock was still buried deep inside me and his breathing was slow and heavy. If he was still awake, he was oblivious to my efforts to get out from underneath him. I resigned myself to being stuck there. If it weren't for the difficulty of breathing, I quite enjoyed it. I hadn't cum, and yet I felt completely satisfied, as if I had. Inside I felt wonderful, his cock had just felt so right, in fact, it still did. A warn glow seemed to radiate from deep inside me. I wondered if it was possible to have an orgasm without cumming, because that's how I felt. Maybe this was meant to happen, I thought to myself. Maybe I needed a man like this, someone completely different to the guys I normally went with. I wanted to feel like this again. Over-whelmed, over-powered, dominated, used, sore and yet so good. He stirred, enough for me to slip to one side causing him to roll off with a sigh and 'shlurp' as his limp cock slipped out. I rested a while, quietly studying this strange beast which dozed next to me, gently running my fingers over his hairy chest and thighs. I had never seen such a stocky, hairy specimen. I could have hobbled out the door and maybe taken his boat across the lake. But I wasn't sure if I wanted to. He stirred, as if he could read my thoughts. "Clean it up." he barked, grabbing me by the hair and forcing my face down into his crotch. I removed the condom and licked up the cum and lube that remained. His cock sprang to life. Holding my wrist tightly and pushing me gently off the bed, he nodded towards a packet of condoms. I wobbled to the dresser as directed. My legs and ass felt strange and even without my ankle injury, walking that distance was a challenge. He watched me with an amused grin, stretching his arm out so that he could still keep hold of me. I passed him the goods. He rolled a new condom onto his cock and got it very wet and slick with the gel. Then he scooped me up with his free arm and lowered me down over his cock, taking surprising care not to hurt my ankle. I straddled him and he placed the tip of his fat meat at my ass. I relaxed and let gravity slowly pull me onto him. He moaned a delighted moan and beamed up at me through glazed eyes. I was swept away with the sensation of once again having him invade me. "Ride me." he ordered with a chuckle. I did my best. I jigged up and down, revelling in the feeling of that fat thing so deep within me and so strongly pushing me apart. He started to moan but my legs started to cramp so I stopped. Straightening out my legs so that my feet were each side of his head, my swollen, strapped ankle resting neatly on a pillow. I leant back and rested my weight on my arms, behind me. His cock was as deep inside me as it could be. I looked down and smiled at him. "Feel good?" I whispered. "Oh yeah", he said with a sigh. I enjoyed the minute amount of power and control I had over him in this position, but most of all, I just liked having his cock in me. My control was to be short lived. He grabbed my ass cheeks and dug his fingers into me, lifting me up, then forcing me down. "This feels even better!" he hissed through his efforts. Again he was hurting me and again I loved it. He pushed me up and then slammed me down onto his cock within increasing speed. With each downward stroke he started to thrust his pelvis upwards, causing our bodies to slam together. He rejoiced in doing it hard and making me cry out in pain, and yet we both knew it wasn't really pain. This time when he came he arched his back and thrust towards the low ceiling of the cabin. He froze there, shuddering through his orgasm, leaving me impaled on his erupting rod, the only thing that stopped me from crashing onto the floor. Eventually his orgasmic spasm subsided and I was lowered to the relative safety of the bed. He reached forward and stroked my cock. In three short strokes I came buckets over his chest. It was an orgasm of an intensity I hadn't experienced before. I felt like my whole body, my ass, my legs, all of me had cum, not just my cock. I massaged my cum into his hairy chest. Pushing me up to allow his cock out from inside me, he peeled off the condom and emptied his cum all over his chest, mixing it with mine. Then he pulled me up as gently as he could and lay me on top of him so that our wet, flaccid cocks touched, and his hairy chest was glued with our combined cum to my lean hairless chest. I shoved my tongue down his throat and kissed him with such abandon that I think even he was surprised. I had never kissed a man like that before. He responded and began to kiss me with even great force. Once again, he took control. His huge bear arm surrounded my neck and by flexing his bicep he forced my mouth upon his. He forced his tongue down my throat and his lips tore at mine as if they might draw blood. Again I didn't particularly like his prickly beard burning my mouth and lips, nor the way his tongue ventured further than any man's had before him, and yet I had knowingly put myself in this situation. I forced his mouth away. "Fuck me!" I gasped. I needed oxygen and my mouth needed a rest and I could feel his cock stiffening as we kissed. He didn't need to be asked twice. He rolled us over so that he was now on top and slid off the bed, pulling me gently by the hips until my ass hung over the edge. Applying the requisite condom and gel he gently placed my swollen ankle on one shoulder and my good foot on the other. He then lifted my hips so that my ass-hole was level with his cock, and pulled me on to it as one might pull on a pair of tight sea boots. Again he fucked me with reckless enthusiasm. I was quiet this time. I lay back and let it happen. I lay back and enjoyed taking it. I was being fucked like a cheap whore or a dutiful housewife, and I felt good. He lasted so much longer this time, I guess because he had already blown 3 loads that afternoon, also I imagined because I was so passive this time. I remember lying back with my eyes closed, feeling his manhood pulsing inside me, and realising how wonderful the simple physical act of just being fucked could actually feel. I felt I was operating at a really primitive level. None of the usual bullshit like power, politics, image, reputation that previously seemed so important to me when I chose to have sex with a man, actually mattered anymore. I wasn't letting him fuck me to make him like me, or to get back at an ex-lover, or for any other pathetic reason. He was fucking me because he had decided he was going to, and I rejoiced in the simplistic, hedonistic, instinctive and natural physical pleasure of the act. He eventually came with a satisfied grunt. I remember dozing in blissful slumber as he left the room. I awoke to the aroma of delicious food being cooked. I hobbled out to see a roaring log fire, a neatly set table for two, and the bear, naked but for a heavy leather apron slaving over the wood stove. I too was naked and he grinned as he saw me and gestured toward the table. We dined, drank a carafe of red wine and talked. It was a very pleasant evening and he was a wonderful cook, and thankfully free of sex, since I was feeling very sore and tired. That is until I asked what was for desert. He arose from the table with a sly wink and got a small jug of cream from the ice box. Then he came over and squeezed between me and the table. Sitting on my placemat he removed his apron to reveal his rejuvenated cock, its bulbous head and purple veins throbbing inches from my face, and poured a line of cream along the top of it. "Cock with cream", he said with a laugh, and then added, "I know it's your favourite!" I was furious once more with his arrogance. Sure I sucked his cock at the lake, sure he'd fucked me silly all afternoon, but that didn't mean he could expect sex whenever he wanted it. Hadn't he had enough? Obviously not. "I'm not hungry thanks" I snapped, trying not to look at his cock or at him. "Come on baby", he cooed, "just taste the cream for daddy." I tried to remain angry but he was starting to get to me. I wanted his cock, even though I hated to admit it. It was so close to my mouth. I could smell it. I thought about the pleasure it had given me that afternoon. Without realising it I stuck my tongue out and licked up some of the cream. It was deliciously cold and thick. I licked some more. Slowly, very lightly, I ran my tongue up and down the length of his shaft, never taking my eyes off his. He moaned and shuddered and looked away, cursing to himself, and holding on tightly to the edge of the table to stop him from falling over. "This is too much", he whispered Enjoying the power of blowing someone's mind, I continued to tease him. I flicked the super sensitive spot on the underside of his cock head causing him to gasp and clench his buttocks, forcing his cock toward me. I didn't want to take in my mouth however, as that would spoil my fun, and his ecstasy. He wanted me to. He even pleaded with me. "Please suck it!" he urged. But I would not. Teasing him was far more enjoyable, and besides, it wasn't like he was in pain. I continued to alternate between licking his shaft up and down and sucking just the crown of his cock. It was driving him wild. Why didn't he just give in to the pleasure and enjoy the moment as I had done during the afternoon? Why was forcing himself upon me more enjoyable than letting me pleasure him? Why did he need to be in control? "Mmmmmmmmm" I said quietly, pausing to lick my lips and still looking up at him, "Your big fat cock is so yummy I wish I could have it for desert every night!" "Jesus Christ" he hissed as he stiffened and shot a stream of hot thick cum over my shoulder and onto the floor behind me. He got up abruptly from the table and commenced to wipe up his cum, then roughly cleaned up the dinner table. I sat there while he stormed around me and sipped what was left of the wine, feeling very pleased with myself. The gentle warmth of the fire, the warm glow of the wine, and the feeling of well-being that only great sex can give you, all added up to me feeling pretty good - despite my ankle injury. He was brooding. He still had the flush of an orgasm on his face, and he wasn't angry, but I could tell something was not quite right with him. Given that our relationship consisted solely of first aid, swimming, and hard core sex, I didn't feel comfortable trying to talk to him. I didn't know how to ask him what was wrong. I didn't have to wait long to find out. When the dinner table had been almost cleaned away he strode over to me, scooped me up like a rag doll, and carried me into the bedroom. Throwing me on the bed he fell on top of me and crushed me with his hairy body. Sticking his tongue down my throat and kissing me so hard I feared he would tear my lips off, he let his body crush mine until I could scarcely breathe. As I became dizzy I felt him raise his body slightly off mine. It took some minutes before I got my bearings back. When I did I observed him staring darkly into my eyes. "I'm sorry." he whispered earnestly, maintaining his stare, his eyes pleading for forgiveness and understanding, "I'm sorry, but this is how it has to be with me." he continued in his desperate whisper. He was breathing hard and struggling to find the right words. "It's dark but I could take you home now if you want." he managed to stammer out, looking away from me at long last. An uneasy silence apart from my pounding heart beat and his heavy breathing ensued. I thought about what he was trying to say. Having sex was for him, a way to define his masculinity. He was gay, but he was a bear. Being in charge, being the top, meant a lot to him. To him I suppose I was a twink. If he allowed me to be in control, then his masculinity would be threatened. It was an attitude I had met in a lot of older men, and the reason I never gave them the time of day. Here I was being confronted with the sort of stereotype I had struggled to overcome ever since I first came out. Why did I want to stay and let him fuck me, when I hated what he was saying and thinking? "It's OK, I understand." I said softly, "Please fuck me." He broke into a smile and tore open a new packet of condoms. Before long he had my legs over his shoulders and was fucking me hard, lifting me up off the bed so that only my head and shoulders remained on the bed. I gave in to the moment. I enjoyed being fucked like I was a piece of meat. I enjoyed being treated this way. I loved the feeling of his angry cock pushing me apart forcing its way inside me. I guess I enjoyed being a sex object and being able to focus on the sex alone. He fucked me several times that night, infact he used my ass as if it were a sex toy, which I suppose is what I really was to him. The following day was much the same with him fucking my ass or my face whenever he saw fit. Eventually late in the afternoon he said I'd better get home as some friends of his were going to visit. The way he looked as he said that suggested his friends were bears that might expect a similar level of service to what he was getting. I agreed that going home now would be the best thing for me. He rowed me home in silence. When we arrived at my cabin, he helped me out and invited me to visit him again sometime. I smiled and said I would, but we both knew we would never meet again, or if we did, we probably wouldn't get together. I was the twink he couldn't resist, he was the bear I had to try. It was over. But if you ever go walking in the woods, please watch out for bears!

© 2Giraffes 2024