... half dreaming, hypnagognic, knowing the impossibility of sucking my own cock, my half-consciousness is denying it, trying to convince the pragmatic me that I'm not going to splatter the bed sheets with wet-dream magma - but this cock does seem very real and more relevant, more confusing, not like mine or how I think mine would feel. The head actually feels veined, like it's so engorged it has erupted a rough terrain of inverted rivulets across the usual smooth glans and yet ... Damn! My cock is definitely engulfed by something moist and moving, persistent, a stabbing at the piss slit.

My face feels wet too, no sticky, as if a snail has been wandering back and forth all night lacing trails of ... pre-cum? My tongue sweeps out beyond the filigree encrusted, throbbing mushroomed head that pushes inward; yes sweet and slimy, around my lips and coating my beard beyond, husky cords of ardently male lubricant. From mouth to cock, indeed pervading my whole body, a pre-orgasmic vibration is surging with reckless abandonment throughout.

Trying to wrestle awake to solve the puzzle, a mental window opens, another dream avenue or a genuine memory? The man in the woods, brutally jacking his shaft, like he was fed up with the pleasure. He's aware I'm there, an unexpected presence, but tolerated nevertheless. Can't say I was expecting anyone in the woods at this time, certainly not some guy so ardently at it with himself, yet I could understand the need (or at least at that point thought I did). He began to shoot, more stream what seemed a gut full of thick, turgid white ropes, cursing as he did - his hand still moved like a hammer-drive, the motion arcing his ejaculate across the forest floor in a random, fascinating pattern, that sunk and dripped amongst the dead foliage like errant rigging.

Our eyes met, my cock before for its own reasons ambivalent now sprung rigid, usually I would have flashed a reflexive look downwards to confirm this development, but our eyes held.

The energy emanating from his eyes, irises green speckled brown, I could neither absorb fully nor ignore. Mesmerised I began to feel a bio-electric itching forming at the crown of my head and a similar counter charge at the tip of my now oozing cock, some kind of static build up was occurring betwixt these polarities. I tired to stay calm, then as quickly as it had manifested, a subtle internal spasm from cock tip to head crown and it was gone, but the intuition that this was the merest taste of some intense proto-orgasmic state lingered hauntingly, enticingly at the edge of my consciousness. He looked away, the connection broken, a conventional verbal exchange attempted to substitute for something seductive, mysterious.

"Sorry mate, I needed that ... I need it quite often." A seriously inadequate understatement I was to learn to my pleasure later in our relationship.

"That's ok." I was still trying to fathom a logical explanation for what I had just experienced, perhaps I came across as blas'8e, but truth was I was stunned, not so much at what I had witnessed, but the charge ignited between us with just eye contact - had he felt this too?

I stepped nearer and registered then that the net of cum, scattered over the foliage some distance from his feet, layered on a less recent out-pouring. The meaning hardly dawning on me before my sight was transfixed by the still rigidity of his member.

And FUCK! What a member! Closer up - it was both simultaneously appalling grotesque and devastatingly erotic. The foreskin visibly expanded and contracted to the beat of the jumping head, fully hidden beneath. The shaft a network of veins, engorged, enticing ... but that network appeared to continue underneath the foreskin as well as atop across the bulbous termination. He couldn't have missed my jaw dropped lusting expression. I looked up in a kind of perplexed wonderment, our eyes met again.

Sweat had formed in droplets across his forehead, not fully cognisant of my action, I reached out my left arm, placed my hand on the right side of his forehead and drew the palm in a semicircle to the other side. This sweep of skin on skin seemed to gratify him greatly, a cunning smile flickering over his lips - reaching out he took my wrist gently, but firmly and deposited my moist palm onto that throbbing manhood, still formidably rigid and eager for attention. My hand closed two thirds around the enormity of his cum-pole girth. This I felt rather than saw, my eyes remaining locked with his. Again that strange electrifying at my head crowns ... his tongue lapped forward, our beards were entangling and the passion blinding me, the might of his bearhood more urgent in my grasp. The couplings of his tongue with mine boded well for delighting other parts of my anatomy.

The bio-electric field around his cock magnified as we tumbled to the forest floor, his mouth breaking from mine, an urgent whisper in my ear ... "Stroke me fast mate, now" ... but I didn't oblige.

Rotating and straddling his torso, I got him pinned down, both hands on that perpetually hard member now, I gradually peeled the foreskin back, slowly, the revelation ecstatic. The thick flesh of his pineal eye lips protruding first, coated in a thick residue of cum and freshly anointed with flows of pre-cum, that by osmosis had been pulled beneath his foreskin and then the shock of his glans, veined, pulsing, grotesque ... ravenously erotic. I dragged the foreskin completely back into the dark curls of his extensive pubes, his thick, turgid bearhood, bare and exposed to the air of the forest dawn glistening with the pre-cum film. His breeches rose beneath the hidden cock base, a dome suggestive of bull ball dimensions, but I firmly palmed this impending sign back down whilst gripping his cock as near to the base as apparel and pubic bush allowed, beginning to motion the shaft back and forth. Droplets of pre-cum flew, then abated as his member engorged further and the skin b! egan to dry in the air flow.

By then he was fairly vocal ... "Fuck, will you jack me off, stop pussying around." Such demands continued, then curses, I sat firm and maintained the slow pace, this jack would be unlike any other he'd experienced. Later the words became incoherent and the moaning took over.

I cupped my palm over this arrogant flaring phallus and steadily brushed the undulations of his mighty glans, his whole member constantly in spasm, his body beneath me bucking violently. As he approached what he thought was to be release I would start to smack his glans against my palm, deadening the nerves and sending waves of orgasmic pleasure across his entire body, but deftly avoiding the ejaculatory trigger. The guy had never been edged before ... a bass bellow grew between my thighs as I rode the lion belly of his pleasure and my palm to his cock connection became a liquid electricity.

"Fuck, don't stop!" ... but I did ... now fully awake, conscious of my mouth full with the succulent heat of his bear ambrosia ...

Note: I'd be interested in connecting with any bear wanting to try writing a two hander.