When referring to a man as a "bear", an image forms in the mind which portrays an overweight guy with a pot belly, mostly bald or head shaven clean and of course, shoulders, torso and legs covered in hair. No doubt we could add a trimmed moustache and beard under a mounting of twin bushy eyebrows. I apologize if some trim, muscled, well hung studs who think of themselves as bears are offended, that is not my intention but truly, "bear" has become a stereo-type adjective for those who well, … look like a bears. Whether the description is accurate or completely unfounded is a mute point, I have used the first paragraph as a segue to basically explain why one can never tell a book by its cover.

I was in Toronto, Canada on business and had taken a room at one of the better hotels near the airport. As any traveling salesman will attest, the hours after dinner to midnight are the loneliest. A huge, strange city, relying on taxi cabs and other than the clients I have called on that day, I do not know a soul. The hotel had a nice dining room and excellent menu. I had filled out my reports and the only activity left for the remainder of the day was a leisure dinner. The soup and salad and home made bread was filling but I dug into my chicken Alfredo anyway chewing each mouthful to the fullest mostly to enjoy the delicacy, but also to simply take as much time off the clock as I could. Complimenting the waiter and leaving a generous tip I decided to wander down the lower level mall. Some stores were already closed but I was not in a buying mood so it did not matter. I could hear the tinkling of a piano emanating from a small, dimly lit bar. I strolled in and took a two-seater table by the velvety red decorated wall and ordered a draught beer. It was ice cold and went down nicely as an after dinner drink.

The room was so dark I probably would have missed the tall gentleman who entered if he had not taken a seat at the next table. A striking figure, a little over six feet, one hundred and eighty five to ninety pounds, jet black wavy hair obviously coiffed strictly by a stylist, a starchy white shirt with expensive cuff links accentuated by a black or navy blue suit. I nodded and the fortyish, clean shaven stranger nodded back adding a smile that exposed sparkling, white teeth. My gosh, I could feel my cock getting hard just looking at him.

A few minutes passed and I began the conversation asking if he was a stranger in town killing time much like me. He told me about an early appointment he had in the morning but then would be flying to Washington by the next afternoon. We chatted and I invited him to join me at my table. We ordered another drink, a draught beer and a gin and Squirt for him. We admitted to each other we were both married, how lonely it can be on the road and although we both flirted with the subject of sex, we did not directly talk specifically about sex. Any guy who has just met a man to whom he is attracted has witnessed there is a vibe, a sense, an electricity that is transferred through the eyes and mannerisms where each seems to know the other’s thoughts, inner lust and secret desires. We both knew there was a magnetism drawing us into the same realm of sexual need. I outright asked him if he wanted to cap off the night with a coffee in my room. He smiled and said he thought I would never ask. We took the elevator up to my fourth floor room.

The fencing, overtures and polite innuendos were over, we both knew why we had agreed to this tryst of lust. I closed and latched the door and kissed him squarely on the mouth. He kissed me back. We drank in each others lips and I began to struggle with his belt. He stepped back allowing space to meticulously take his clothes off. He hung his shirt and pants neatly and slipped his undershirt and underwear away folding them on the nearest chair. I stood in awe. It was as if he had disrobed his street clothes and put on a suit of fur, he was covered from shoulders to ankles with hair. I was totally in shock and amazement; it actually took me a few seconds to focus my eyes on his beautiful, straight out, hard cock.

Realizing my astonishment, he explained the clean look is a must demanded by his superiors so he shaves his face daily and even the back of his hands. He wears long sleeved shirts, Windsor knots on his ties fastened to the neck and the rest, … the rest he continued was his business and not his company’s or clients. And then he questioned if I minded. By this time I too was naked and I took him into my arms and we again kissed, this time exploring and touching each other as if discovering a man’s body for the first time. He had coarse hair all around his cock and balls but the hair on his shoulders and chest were like strands of silk. His ass was firm and round and I could feel the hair up and down the crack of his curved bum. He fisted my cock complimenting me on my tight balls and hard manhood all the while our lips locked in lust and love.

We threw the bed cover onto the floor and lay side by side on the white sheets. I think it was me who went down first taking his cock into my mouth rolling my tongue around his gorgeous cock knob and feeling his hard ridges on my lips. Somewhere along the way his mouth found my cock and we sucked and kissed and licked and moaned and fingered and kissed some more. His hairy tits tickled my nose when I sucked each one in turn. I am not sure of every sequence but I ended up on my back and his cock was probing my ass. He fucked me deep and slow not wanting to explode lest incur an ebb to the moment. It was the first time I had ever fucked an ass with so much hair, quite frankly, it was a real turn on and I had to be so careful not to come in his inviting hole. Neither one of us had come as yet; we withheld the big finish on purpose for fear an intense ejaculation by either one of us would put an end to our one time meeting.

Lying together he took a couple puffs on a cigarette and then we headed for the shower. Truly, he looked like a drowning animal as the water soaked his hairy body but again, this was a new experience for me and I loved every minute. The suds built up quickly on the hair and we washed each other from face to legs, every inch, every fold and every hard place. When rinsed and toweled we stood in the bathroom naked knowing we could hold out no longer. I went down and took his cock into my mouth and my head bobbed back and forth deep and shallow, deep and shallow. He gave a muffled sound and I tasted the familiar white love cascading over my tongue. I sucked and swallowed, sucked and swallowed until he placed his hands on my shoulders and brought me to my feet. He went to his knees and took my ass in both his hands and pulled my stiff, ready cock into his mouth. I did not want him to stop but by now it was out of my control and I exploded. A lightening rod of tickle went down my spine and out the end of my cock into his rapidly sucking and swallowing mouth. He sucked me until I was soft then got to his feet.

It was almost 3:30 am; we had made love for two hours. We knew when we both got dressed and kissed good night we would never see one another again and although I gave him my e mail address, to date we have not. There is rarely a week goes by I do not think of him. There was a mysterious secrecy about my stranger bed lover. He told me only what he wanted to tell but kept his "company" and reasons for being in Toronto to himself. What ever business or governmental position he is in whether legitimate or covert, he obviously had to be neat and clean shaven if only in appearance, a guise or disguise he carried out to perfection. During our short but memorable sojourn into paradise, he did teach me two wonderful lessons. First, I loved rolling around a bed of sex with a bear and second, you can never tell a book by its cover.