I walked into the bar like I had something to prove, even though my hands were shaking. Twenty-three years old, never touched another guy, and there he was at the end of the counter: thick, broad, and covered in dark hair that spilled out of his open shirt collar. The bear. His name was Mike. We’d traded a few blunt messages online, him saying he liked breaking in new guys, me admitting I’d never done shit. He bought me a beer without asking and told me to drink it fast.
We didn’t waste time with small talk. His apartment was two blocks away, third floor, door barely shut before he had me against it. “Strip,” he said, voice low and rough. I pulled my shirt off, then my jeans. My cock was already hard and leaking. Mike looked me over like he was deciding where to start. He kept his clothes on at first, just shoved his big hand down my briefs and grabbed my dick.
“Nice and stiff for a first-timer,” he grunted. He stroked me slow and tight, thumb smearing the head. Then he dropped his own pants. His cock was thick, veined, and surrounded by the same heavy fur that covered his chest and belly. I stared. He noticed and smirked. “You gonna touch it or just look?”
I reached out. The weight of it in my hand felt different from my own—hotter, heavier. I stroked him the way he stroked me, and he pushed my hand lower so I cupped his balls. They were full and hairy too. “Suck it,” he ordered.
I got on my knees. The floor was cold but I didn’t care. His cock tasted salty and thick on my tongue. I gagged the first time I tried to take it deep, spit running down my chin, but Mike just held my head and told me to breathe through my nose. “That’s it, boy. Get it wet.” I worked my mouth up and down, getting sloppier, until he pulled me off and hauled me to the bedroom.
He bent me over the edge of the mattress. Lube clicked open. One thick finger pushed inside me and I groaned at the stretch. “Tight virgin hole,” he muttered, working it in and out. A second finger followed. It burned, but the burn turned into something hotter when he curled them and rubbed my prostate. My cock dripped onto the sheets. “You’re gonna take my dick now.”
He lined up and pushed. The head popped past my ring and I swore, gripping the blanket. Mike didn’t stop. He fed it to me inch by inch, slow but steady, until his hairy thighs were flush against my ass and his balls rested against mine. I felt stuffed full, stretched wide around him. “Fuck, you’re big,” I gasped.
“Damn right.” He started thrusting. Each stroke dragged over that spot inside me until I was pushing back, meeting him.
The room filled with the sound of skin slapping and my own broken moans. Mike grabbed my hips hard enough to leave marks and fucked me faster, deeper. His belly hair brushed my lower back every time he bottomed out.
He flipped me onto my back without pulling out. My legs went over his shoulders and he drove in again, watching my face while he pounded me. “Jerk your cock,” he said. I did, fist flying over my shaft while he drilled me. The pressure built fast. I came hard, shooting across my stomach and chest, hole clenching around him. Mike growled and kept fucking me through it, then pulled out at the last second and painted my belly and pubes with thick ropes of his load. It mixed with mine in the dark hair there.
We stayed like that a minute, breathing hard. Then he wiped us off with a towel and pulled me against his chest. His fur was damp with sweat. “Not bad for your first time,” he said. “Next round I’m putting you on all fours again.”
I was already getting hard again.
