Page 51 of Grumpy Bear

He brought the scent of my own sweat back to me with a sloppy kiss.

With a deep frustrated growl, he levered off me and stood at the foot of the bed. He hooked my knees over his elbows and dragged me roughly to the edge. He yanked again until my ass was hanging off, then he pressed, rolling my knees back toward my ears.

I was open and totally exposed to him.

He dropped to a crouch and examined me. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispered reverently, his breath on my balls. “I can’t wait anymore. This is what I want.”

I assumed what he meant, what he was about to do to me, and I had brief thoughts of protest—I’m sweaty from dancing. I should’ve showered first.

But he nudged my sac aside with his nose, lifting my balls, greedily inhaling the deep hairy cleft of my thigh.

He sighed. “Amazing.”

His tongue flattened against my taint. My hole clenched as cool air hit the wetness, my balls drawing up, out of his way.

He ate me like an ice cream cone, French kissing my hole just as he had my mouth. He devoured me.

I threw my head back on the bed, reeling from the sensation but also the intimacy of the act. He started with the most unseen, untouched part of me. He began where most men might possibly end up after tons of foreplay.

Either afraid he was ignoring my dick or maybe distracted by everything he wanted to taste, he slurped the head, pulling hard, draining the precum at the tip. Then he took me effortlessly to the back of his throat and hummed around me.

But it was clear my ass was still his priority.

He stood with a groan, his knees popping, and encircled my ankles with his thick fingers, ready to drive me into the bed. He looked down, watching his cock nudge my hole. I squirmed as he ran the length of himself through the cleft of my ass, his precum mixing with his spit, turning it into the most excruciatingly wonderful glide.

We both moaned, and he glanced up, catching my eyes. His mouth was slack, his dark beard wet with us. He kept watching my face as he moved, sliding his thick shaft against my hole over and over, teasing me. “This feels almost as good as fucking.” He looked down again, studying the place where we met. “God, that’s so fucking beautiful. I want to see myself disappearing into you.”

My hips were rolling now, my hole trying to catch the tip of his cock and pull it into me. He angled the head so it was pushing against the ring of slackened muscle, a faint suction kissing him. With tiny shallow thrusts, he was half an inch and an impulse away from barebacking me, and I clenched again.

Reading my resistance, he froze. “I guess this is where we’re gonna stop for me to put on a fucking condom, huh?”

“Not yet.” I rolled him onto his back and licked one of his nipples.

His response inspired me to fully commit my attention to his chest. His pecs were a defined shelf above his belly but soft with meaty flesh and cushioned with rough dark hair. I pinned his wrists above his head as he’d done to me and straddled him.

His hips thrust up against me, but I stayed low on his thighs, the tip of my dick barely grazing his hairy sac when I leaned over him.

I found the size of his body did even more for me when I was on top of him. Having this butch bear of a man, all muscles and fur and beardy scowls underneath me, whimpering as I licked his armpits, paralyzed with what I was doing to him… It was intoxicating.

I chewed on his nipples until they hardened, then I placed my tongue against the tips and tried to drive them back into the areola. It was a subtle move, but he froze beneath me, holding his breath.

I smiled. “You like that.”

“Oh yeah. They’re totally wired.”

“Good to know.”

I reached back to free the last of my collapsing ponytail, and he made desperate spluttering noises when he got a face full of my hair.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

He huffed, petulant. “Do we really need the hair?”

“You might.” I scooted all the way down his legs until I was sitting against the ridge of his big foot, which he immediately began pressing against my hole, impatient to touch the part of me he had claimed.

The skin on the lower part of his veiny shaft was darker than the wet pink crown. He wasn’t long, but he was thick. He hadn’t actually asked if I bottomed. I was versatile, and girth had always felt better inside me than length.

I savored the scent of him, caramel and spicy. I nuzzled his cock, feeling the warmth across my cheek, my beard tickling his balls. With a flat lick, I swiped the brine from the tip and ringing the base with my fingers so it stood straight from his body, I enclosed him within my mouth, driving him slowly down my throat, breathing through his deliciously dark earthy hair.