"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 7: Laying Pipe
Yeah, I know that when you're about to become a high school senior, you should get some kind of summer job to prepare for life in the real world. But let's face it. I'm a lazy bear.
So most of the summer, I bummed around in my air-conditioned home, lounging on the couch, watching TV, jerking off, munching on Doritos. Why lie? This is what my dream life would've been like. I was living my dream life.
"Grass is gettin' kinda long," my dad remarked as he poked his head into my bedroom one morning. He had to leave for work at eight, and my typical routine usually didn't involve getting up until ten.
I knew what his comment meant. It was his way of telling me to mow the lawn while he was at work. To do something useful around the house for once instead of wasting my summer on my lazy ass.
"All right, I'll mow it," I mumbled into my pillow.
"And don't forget, the plumber's coming by this afternoon to fix the disposal."
"Yeah." Again, I mumbled sleepily without really comprehending what he was saying.
Dad sighed and closed the door. I heard his truck pulling out of the driveway before I fell back asleep.
That afternoon, under the burning sun, I pushed the lawnmower back and forth across the lawn, chewing up strips of grass. With temperatures reaching nearly a hundred degrees in the shade, I hadn't even bothered putting on a shirt. I just wore my shorts. It was so hot that I decided not to even wear boxers on underneath.
Being pretty light-complexioned, my skin tended to tan and burn very fast, so I had to be careful. But I could feel the sunscreen dripping off with my sweat.
I had a water bottle strapped to a belt and a towel tucked under my waistband, but despite the continually intake of fluids, I was still soaked with sweat. Occasionally, I caught a glimpse of a neighbor peeking out a window to take a look at the sweaty adolescent grizzly mowing the lawn.
I was wiping off my damp chest with my towel when a gray van with "Stan's Plumbing" painted on its side pulled into the driveway. I stood and watched as Stan got out of his van, wiped some sweat from his brow, and opened up the back of his van to retrieve his tools.
"I'm here for the disposal," he called out to me.
He was cute, with light, sandy hair and a short mustache. A bit pudgy, but his strong chest and arms bulged with muscles as he carried his tools and equipment from his van.
"The front door's open," I said. "Kitchen's to the right."
Stan nodded. I could feel his eyes on my naked torso. He looked at me for a second longer, then headed to the door. I watched him as he glanced back at me one more time before disappearing into my climate-controlled house.
I wiped off my chest again and went back to mowing.
A half an hour later, after returning the mower back to its resting place the garage, I opened the door to the house and savored the blast of air-conditioned air on my sweaty skin. Stomping over to the air vent, I stood in front of it for a little bit, letting the cool air wash over my body.
As I strolled into the kitchen to get a soda out of the fridge, I could see Stan lying on the floor, the lower half of his body sticking out from under the sink as he worked on the garbage disposal unit.
"Not a good day to work outdoors," he commented as I chugged down the carbonated drink. "You work up quite a sweat."
"Yeah," I replied, dumping my empty water bottle and soaked towel on the table as I sat on a chair to rest my legs. "Guess your job is more ideal for the climate."
"Can't complain." I saw him looking up at me from under the sink.
I scratched my chest lazily, hoping that he was watching and had an interest in what he was seeing. I sighed as I leaned back in my chair and spread my legs a little, placing my hands on my thighs. I knew that I was giving him a good view right up the legs of my shorts at my cock and balls.
Stan cleared his throat, perhaps a bit unsure of whether I was doing it on purpose. "So, you play football?"
"Defensive line..." I picked up my towel again and wiped off the last remnants of sweat and sunscreen on my chest and back.
"Yeah, you look like a lineman. What year are you?"
"Gonna be a senior come fall," I replied. Boy, Stan liked to talk. I was waiting for him to give me some kind of clue that he wanted to have some fun.
"Yeah, I used to wrestle myself," he continued. "In high school. But that was more than ten years ago. Seems like ancient times now."
"I don't think I'd be much of a wrestler," I said. "Too big and clumsy, I guess."
There was a long pause. I saw Stan glancing up my shorts every few seconds. He gave a nervous chuckle.
Then I saw it. The bulge beginning to rise in his pants. He was getting turned on. The sight of it caused my own dick to harden. I could feel it creeping down the leg of my shorts, and the end of it threatened to poke completely out. There was no way Stan could've missed it.
I heard him gulp. My hard-on was pushing up the leg of my shorts.
"So you do always forget to wear underwear?" he asked in a joking tone.
"Naw, I usually wear boxers," I answered. "But it was just too goddamn hot today."
"Yeah," Stan said. "Too bad I gotta wear the shirt and pants every day."
There it was. That was the come on. I grinned.
"Well, you know," I said, seizing the opportunity, "you don't have to."
He chuckled again. I could see the outline of his erection in the fabric of his pants.
All right, enough teasing, I thought. I unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts and pushed them off, depositing on the floor. My red, throbbing cock sprang up as I sat back down, utterly naked. I could see Stan's eyes widening as I started masturbating right there in the kitchen.
"Oh, Jesus," he murmured as he stopped working and watched me.
"You like this?" I asked as I fondled my balls with my other hand.
"Hell, yeah," Stan replied.
I licked my index finger and brushed it around the rim of my cockhead. I watched as a clear drop appeared at the tip, glistening. Stan let out a groan.
I got off the chair and knelt on the floor, straddling Stan's legs. I immediately went for his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them. Grabbing the waistband, I quickly pulled off both his pants and his boxers, stopping only to pull off his shoes first. He sighed as he let his naked ass settle back on the cold linoleum.
I grabbed his hot erection and massaged it. His cock was perfect. A perfect seven inches. Perfectly straight, perfectly proportioned. Even the head was a perfectly-formed mushroom, perfectly symmetrical.
Stan just stared in disbelief as I leaned forward and swallowed the end of his cock. I started sucking hungrily on it, drawing out strange squealing and whining sounds from him.
"Goddamn," Stan grunted as I bathed his cockhead with my tongue. I felt his legs shaking beneath me.
I bobbed my head up and down, letting my lips glide over the silky skin of his shaft. I slurped on his cock as my saliva ran down its length and dripped over his balls.
I slid his dick out of my mouth and sat back up again.
"Oh, Jesus, don't stop," Stan whimpered.
"Come on." I put my hands on his waist and pulled him out from under the sink until he was lying the floor. Finally out of the shadows, his big grin and ecstatic expression was fully visible.
I reached down and unbuttoned his shirt. He sat up and helped me pull it off. I tossed it into the pile with his pants and shoes.
Now that he was lying naked beneath me, I could sit back and admire his body. His chest and belly were completely hairless. The smoothness of his body accentuated his thick muscles, which he slowly flexed for me. Obviously, his many hours working his wrench had an effect on his arms. I placed a hand on his soft, smooth stomach, its pudginess probably the result on lying under kitchen sinks all day.
"Don't move," I said as I patted his belly and stood up.
"Hey, where're you going?" he asked.
He watched as I lumbered over to the refrigerator, my still-stiff cock bobbing in front of me. I opened the door and immediately found what I needed: a stick of butter.
Stan's eyes widened when I walked back over to him with the butter. He looked at my eight-inch cock fearfully. "You're not gonna fuck me, are you?"
"Not what I had in mind," I said, unwrapping the butter, smearing some onto my hand, and rubbing it onto his now-purplish cock.
"Oh, fuck," he groaned. "This can't be happening. This only happens in porno mag stories."
I smiled back at him as I straddled his belly, gripping his slippery cock underneath me. I slowly lowered myself towards his cockhead until it was pressing against my asshole.
"Ready?" I asked.
"God, no," Stan answered. "How can anybody ever be ready for something like this?"
I chuckled, then Stan and I let out deep, guttural groans as I sank onto his fuckpole, feeling it push into me deeper and deeper until it was finally all the way in.
I sat there for a moment as we stared at one another with glowing, disbelieving smiles on our faces.
I placed my meaty hands on his chest and started pushing my large body up and down, feeling his erection slipping in and out of my ass, my balls slapping against his belly each time I came down. Stan's mouth just stayed wide open, sharp heavy breaths escaping each time his cock sank back into my body.
He started thrusting his hips, fucking my ass even as I was bouncing on him. And despite the air conditioning, sweat began rolling down my brow and neck, soaking me once again.
I wondered how I must've looked to him, this big bearish teenager with a dick up his ass, heaving his body up and down. I grunted and whimpered with each thrust.
As I rode him, I sat up and wrapped my hand around my own stiff cock, jerking off as he fucked me. My knees were getting sore from supporting my weight on the floor, but I didn't mind.
I gritted my teeth as I wiped off some of the sweat on my chest with the palm of my hand, rubbing it into Stan's smooth chest until his body glistened like an oiled bodybuilder. Stan's pecs twitched, and he laughed and groaned at the same time.
"I'm fucking a football player," he moaned. "A goddamn football player."
I'm getting fucked in the ass by a plumber, I thought, but I was grunting too loudly and passionately to actually say anything. I felt his slick rod pounding into me repeatedly.
I beat my dick furiously with my hand, feeling the pressure building and building in my balls. The muscles in my ass tightened around Stan's cock, and he let out a low growl.
"You coming?" he asked as he fucked me harder, thrusting his body powerfully, burying his cock deeper and deeper into me.
I nodded, squeezing my eyes shut and throwing my head back, my brain going into hyperdrive.
"Uh, fuuuuuck!" I screamed as my dick exploded, thick ropes of cum shooting out across Stan's chest, splashing him in the face with my hot juices.
My body heaved with each blast, and I think I may have even blacked out for a second. When I regained my thoughts, I looked back down at Stan, who was grinning as my cock continued throbbing, pumping out more spunk onto his pudgy belly.
"Oh, fuck," I moaned as I squeezed the last drops out and smiled at the sight of Stan's cum-covered body. He stuck out his tongue to lick up some the cum dripping off his face.
He continued fucking my ass until finally he closed his own eyes and growled loudly.
"Jesus," he groaned as he thrust his dick all the way into my ass and held it there. I felt his cock pulsing as jets of warm cum shot deep into my bowels.
Finally, Stan collapsed to the floor, his cock pulling out of my ass and flopping to his belly, still leaking cum. I could feel some of his juices leaking out of my ass and running down my leg.
He took a few deep breaths, then smiled in contentment. "That was fucking incredible," he sighed. "Didn't think anyone as big as you would let someone fuck you."
I patted my belly as I sat on his stomach, still straddling him. "Well, actually, I've never actually fucked anybody, yet."
"Really?" Stan seemed surprised.
"And you're only the second person to ever fuck me." My ass was still a little sore from being pounded, but it felt good.
I lay on top of him and licked my cum off his face, then kissed him. The sticky juices on his chest and stomach smeared between our bodies.
I rolled over onto my back, pulling him on top of me. We lay together for a while, until Stan finally asked the question.
"So are you gonna let me finish repairing your disposal?"
I smiled at him. "It can wait a while."
I wrapped my arms around him, holding him as we fell asleep right there on the kitchen floor. When we woke up two hours later, I literally had to peel him off of me, my dried cum adhering us together.
And he even managed to finish working on the garbage disposal before my dad got home.
- fratbear fratbear@excite.com http://www.geocities.com/fratcub/