I hadn't seen my friend Bill since he moved to Georgia to work for a law firm nearly 2 years ago. We had attended grade school and high school together, graduated from the same local college, and then parted ways. He had gone on to law school while I had stayed in the same small town in which we had both been born. I had a good job as a teacher at the local high school, but I often felt a little ashamed of my choices when I spoke to Bill on the phone.

And now he was coming back into town for his younger sister's wedding. Bill, himself, had never gotten married. Nor had I, for that matter. We never talked about the possibility that we were both gay, but I knew, deep down, that I had always hoped to some day end up with Bill as my mate. I suspected he felt the same. In high school, when we had both been members of the wrestling team, our practice wrestling sessions had sometimes devolved into little more than groping sessions.

On Wednesday afternoon, the day Bill's plane was set to arrive, I showed up at his parent's house as instructed. Bill's parents' house had always been an open environment for our gang of friends throughout high school and college. It was way out in the boondocks, surrounded by woods and positioned at the side of a lake. Because of its isolation and because the nearest town was tiny and safe, his parents always left the doors unlocked. As I wound my way down the long dirt driveway in my car, I noticed how tranquil the house was. My house, which was in the very center of town, was peaceful as well, but not as private as I'd have liked.

I parked my car and walked up to the back door. No one ever used the front door. Too formal, I guess. I rapped the door with one knuckle in a staccato rhythm. No one answered. I knocked again, louder this time. I stood motionless, waiting. Still no answer came.

Assuming that Bill's plane had been delayed, I opened the door and popped my head inside.

"Anyone home?" I yelled, scratching at my thick brown beard in confusion.

Again, no one answered. Making myself at home, I stepped inside, removed my shoes, and headed towards the living room to watch a little TV. As I passed the stairway up to the bedrooms, I heard a "thump."

I froze, remembering the recent story from the newspaper about a series of burglaries around the countryside.

Silently, I opened the hall closet and grabbed the baseball bat that I knew Bill's parents kept there. On my tiptoes, I stealthily rose up the stairs. As I neared the top landing, I heard a strange sound coming from Bill's room. It sounded like moaning and grunting.

I looked to the left and into the open doorway. On the bed, I could see a pair of large men's feet wearing white athletic socks. The feet were sticking straight up and sometimes twitching a bit. The grunting and moaning were both a little louder now, accompanied by bad seventies-ish music. Porn music. I tilted my head back a bit so I could see further up the feet. They were attached to a pair of beefy bare legs.

Not Bill's well-built, young legs, but Bill's father's burly middle-aged legs.

Bill's father, George, had been a high school shop teacher since Bill and I had been born. His classroom was just down the hall from my own and he was set to retire at the end of the year. He had coached Bill and I in wrestling and was loved by the entire staff and student body. Truth be known, he was a role model for me in my own teaching career. I had always admired George, both as a person and as a specimen of a "bear." He stood 6'2" and weighed nearly 300 lbs. His face was covered with a thick beard that had once been black but had turned white in recent years. From what I could see now, however, the hair on his legs was still as black as ever.

I had to know if the rest of his hair had stayed that color.

I leaned back a bit more, exposing more of George's legs and thighs to my gaze. His chunky legs graduated to massive, hair-covered thighs, muscular and tight.

I could hear a rhythmic, wet "schlock" sound over the moaning on the videotape -- George's pumping, no doubt. The sound spurred me to lean back a little more, finally giving me a view of his cock, wrapped tight in one large, sweaty fist. As George moved his hand up and down, I estimated that his dick was only around 5 inches long, but the thickness was amazing. A true beer can cock. From the amount of white pre-cum build-up at its swollen head, I gauged that he had been whacking his thick pud for some time. He moved his hand over his dick slowly, wrapping around it tight and making skin-to-skin contact with seemingly every inch of it. I noticed that he paid special attention to the head, twisting his clenched fist just a bit as he reached the top of each stroke.

At this point, I should have headed slowly back downstairs and outside. I should have pretended that I had not seen a thing, returned to my car, and waited quietly for Bill to arrive.

But I couldn't do that.

Instead I leaned the baseball bat against the hallway wall and stepped into Bill's bedroom, not sure what would follow.

As I crossed the threshold of Bill's room, the scent of sweat and masculine fluids assailed my nostrils. I liked it. George was so wrapped up in pleasuring himself that he had his eyes closed tight and was arching his back against the bed as he pumped his dick. He didn't even notice my approach. I stared at him, taking in the site of his pale skin covered with dark fur. He was entirely naked except for his white socks. The look on his face was one of single-minded pleasure. His tongue darted in and out of his mouth, licking his dry lips.

I leaned forward and gently pushed his hand from his cock. His eyes snapped open and his entire body jerked from the surprise.

"What the hell?!" he yelled.

As an answer, I bowed low and licked the dribble of clear liquid from the tip of his swollen prick.

"Just a minute, here!" he protested. "What are you…."

He stopped speaking and began to moan as I deep-throated his thick member, feeling the head touch the back of my throat. I paused, getting used to the feel of his hard cock in my mouth. I swirled my tongue across its surface and then let it go.

I looked down into George's eyes. They seemed to be pleading with me, against his mind's better judgment, to continue.

"Do you want me to leave?" I asked. "I can go outside now and wait in my car for Bill to arrive. We can agree to never mention this incident to anyone, if that's what you want."

George looked down at his swollen dick. "I want you to finish what you started," he said after a moment.

I bent forward again and encircled just the head of his cock in my lips, tickling the underside of its swollen head with my tongue. George shuddered and then began to buck his hips against his bed, sliding his member through my moist, waiting lips. I remained still for several minutes, letting him freely fuck my mouth. George really got into this. He began to grunt like an animal, deep guttural noises in the back of his throat. As his pace intensified, I realized he was getting fairly close to shooting his load.

I released him from my mouth and sat back, taking in the sight of this big polar bear at my disposal. He was helpless to my touch, trembling on his son's bed.

"I'm not gay," George said, breathing heavily.

"Who is?" I said, grabbing the base of his dick, tightening my fist around it, and making the head swell even larger.

I stuck out my tongue and tickled the sensitive skin just under his cock's mushroom-like head. George shuddered. I bent down lower and lightly brushed my thick beard across his thighs and low-hanging balls, tickling him with the coarse hairs.

"If we're going to do this," George sputtered as I continued to tickle him lightly, "shouldn't you be naked too?"

Without a word, I unbuttoned my flannel shirt to expose my hairy chest and erect nipples. To my surprise, George watched me intently as I removed the shirt and let it drop to the floor. He seemed very interested in seeing me naked. I stared right back at him as I unzipped my jeans and pulled them down around my ankles. My white briefs were tented out at the front accompanied by a large wet spot. My eight-inch prick was straining for release, so I pulled the briefs down and stepped out of them and my jeans. I left my white socks on.

I bent down by the bed, opening my mouth and preparing to receive George's beer can cock again. As I did so, however, George grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me up towards him. His grip was strong. Surprised, I stepped up and wedged myself beside on the twin bed.

We were both on our backs now, our erect dicks bobbing slightly in time to our elevated heart rates. George wrapped his large fingers around his cock again and pulled at it a few times, slowly now. My own cock was dribbling a stream of precum onto my hairy belly. I hadn't created that much natural lube for years! I wiped the slippery liquid around the purplish-red head of my cock, shivering at my own touch. George watched me fondle myself with great interest, his stroking speeding up. I gave my dick a long, slow tug, starting at its base and going all the way to the swollen tip. Looking into George's flushed face, I matched his stroking rhythm. He smiled a crooked smile, increasing the speed of his pulls, as if we were in a race. I matched him again. After a few minutes, George's breathing grew shallow and he began to grunt. He tilted his head back, moaning a little with each pull.

Quickly, I stopped whacking my own pud and grabbed his hand away from his dick. His cock fell back and slapped his belly, bouncing.

George sat forward, breathing heavily. "Why'd you do that?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"Because I don't want you to cum yet," I explained.

I reached down and fondled his spongy cock, feeling the heaviness of it and trying to encircle its girth with my hand. Then, I could help myself no longer. I rolled toward George, lifted one leg, and mounted his chubby belly. I had never straddled a naked man before. Oh, I'd thought about what it would be like to get fucked, sure, but I'd never done it. In my few experiences with men, I had always been the fucker not the fuckee. Now, however, I was curious to know how having George's massive cock inside of me would feel.

George's faced registered with surprise. "I don't know about this," he said.

"I don't either," I admitted.

Neither of us made a move. I just sat there, legs spread across his belly, feeling his thick prick gently throb against my right ass cheek. The look on George's face was confused, yet curious – even eager. After a few moments of silence, I reached behind me and began to stroke George's wet cock, pressing it gently into my ass crack as I did so. Using the precum pouring down George's piss slit, I lubed up my index finger and placed it at the opening of my asshole. Pressing firmly, I worked my finger past the sphincter, the internal muscles resisting at first, then relaxing. Lowering my ass, I pulled my finger free and rubbed the moistened head of George's prick against my expectant hole. To my surprise, my sphincter began to involuntarily open and close slightly, kissing at his cockhead like a pair of lips. Breathing deeply and trying to relax, I slid just the tip of his cock into my ass. Although I could feel my anus stretching to accommodate the massive intruder, there was no pain. As his entire helmeted cockhead slipped inside of me, an overwhelming sensation of fullness washed over me and I lost my breath for a second. Recovering from the moment of disorientation, I leaned back, allowing a bit more of George's beer can cock inside of me.

I watched George's face intently, interested in his reaction to what was happening. He gritted his teeth, sat forward slightly, and growled deep in his throat. His eyes were open wide and I could see surprise and excitement in their depths. "I've never felt anything so tight," he groaned. A little spittle hung in his beard at the side of his mouth as he spoke.

I was crouched over him now, running my hands through the black matte of hairs covering his chest. My own cock stood out straight from my body, clear liquid dripping from its tip and onto George's belly. "Does it feel good?" I asked, sliding down the remainder of his dick so that all thick 5 inches were buried inside of me.

George growled again as I settled myself fully onto his pelvis, his pubic hairs tickling my ass crack. "It almost hurts, it's so tight," he said at last.

"Do you want me to climb off?" I asked, a little concerned. With the men I'd fucked in the past, it had never hurt me.

"No, no!" he answered quickly. "I like it."

He liked it so much, in fact, that he began to rhythmically raise his pelvis from the bed, slowly fucking me. His neck muscles tightened and he raised his back from off of his pillows, increasing the rate of his pelvic thrusts. He was going to cum any minute, I could tell.

"Slow down," I said. "I want to get used to feeling you inside of me."

Reluctantly, George stopped pumping his hips and settled back onto his pillow. His face had turned bright red.

Although it was nice having George fuck me, I didn't feel much physical pleasure coming from inside my ass. I decided to change positions a bit, sliding my feet out from beneath my crouching body and up towards George's chest. I locked my feet beneath his damp armpits, leaning my torso backwards and moving my arms behind me to serve as braces. I grabbed George's still-socked ankles for support. In this new position, my full weight pressed upon my ass and George's cock. It also must have changed the angle of his cock inside of me because I suddenly felt an explosion on pleasure inside of me.

"Oh!" I exclaimed. "I think we just found my prostate." I moaned loudly, rocking my hips back and forth over George's hard dick.

George grinned. "You like that, huh?"

I didn't answer because I was too wrapped up in the new sensations going on inside of me.

George took my moaning as his signal to continue fucking me. With each violent thrust of his hips, he was now hitting my internal trigger, sending a blast of pleasure into me. As he increased his rhythm, I could hear his grunts becoming louder and more insistent. I wanted him to slow down and hold back, but I couldn't speak.

"I'm going to cum!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. Then he began to moan loudly, thrusting into my ass with all of the force left in his body. I felt the length and girth of his cock expand inside of me and then explode. George exhaled deeply, his breathing heavy and labored. He allowed his body to fall back against the bed as he tried to recover from the moment of orgasm.

I wasn't done, yet, though. Raising and lowering my pelvis over his still-hard dick, I continued the fucking. "Jack my dick!" I commanded.

Placing one rough hand around my cock, George did as he was told. I recognized his stroking technique from what I had seen him doing to his own dick just a few minutes earlier. It did, indeed, feel good. Before I knew what was happening, I began to cum. The first shot hit Bill's headboard behind George. The second and third shots landed in George's hair. The fourth shot splattered into his white beard, disappearing into its curly depths. Several smaller spurts sped from my cock's swollen tip, landing variously on George's chest and stomach.

Exhausted, I settled back down on George's pelvis.

George laughed, still winded. "Looks like you enjoyed that," he said.

I could feel his cock softening inside of me, so I rolled off of him, lying beside him on the bed instead. "I don't think I'm the only one who enjoyed it," I replied. "It felt like you emptied a gallon inside of me."

He chuckled again. "We better get cleaned up before the others arrive." He stood from his son's bed, sweat dripping down his furry body and his cock still elongated.

I stayed in the bed for a minute longer, wondering if we would ever do anything like that again.