by Leona Orsino
“What?”
“You, I want you.”
He looked down at me, brushing my hair back. “You’ll have me.”
“I feel…” I grasped at straws—I didn’t have the words.
“You feel the bear,” he said softly. “You feel the soul of our union. It’s as solid and certain, yet mystical as the shapes of the stars.”
I looked up and traced Ursa Major with my finger and laughed quietly. “I don’t want to go to the bus.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Do we still have to do the ritual?”
When he sighed it was like a mountain crumbling. “Yes.”
Something yet stranger happened: I felt a tingle just bellow my belly. Maybe it was knowing that I had found my man, that all was decided, that ultimately I would be safe with him—but I was suddenly aroused by the idea.
“Don’t worry though,” said Zac. “We all carry a psychic pair bonding. They won’t ever love you quite the way I do, but they will all always care about and for you. You’re not just mine, but you’re a part of a family now.”
Without my conscious volition, my mouth had gone dry and transferred all of that moisture to the space between my legs. I chewed my lip and thought about those gorgeous men from earlier, crowding around me, preparing to use my body, and eager to let me use them.
There was no risk in it—I knew who I’d get at the end of things. I could just revel in the heat of sex, be taken over by it, give myself to it.
“Let’s go,” I said.
“Hop on,” he replied with a grin. Zac fell to his hands and knees, becoming a bear in the instant of time from standing to landing. I jumped on top of him and wound my hands through his fur.
“Is this okay,” I asked. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”
“You’re fine,” said his distinctly human voice. “Hold on tight!”
With that we began to race out across the desert, the glow of the village and bus stop fading under the blacktop horizon. It only took us a little over an hour before we were back at the compound. Fiona was at the table playing cards with Marcus and the rest. She smiled at me, and without a word she and Marcus stood up from the table and left the room.
The energy there seemed to shift. The raw lustful hunger in their eyes bore into me and I found myself eager to bare myself to them. My stomach was fluttering as they approached. I wondered if I should tear off my clothes, or let their desire take care of it for me.
‘Let’ them. It’s kinda laughable, in retrospect. I never had a choice. Their hands were upon my willing body, feeling me, their strong fingers running over every inch of my flesh, feeling me out. They lifted me up between them and it was like I was floating without gravity as I was explored. The whole of the experience was organic. In a smooth moment I had been pulled out of my shirt—I didn’t even feel it happen.
I was whirling in a dream-state, twisted and turned and traded between those men—and Zac ever present, guiding, controlling (did the others know?). First shirt, then buttons at my waist, my pants peeled down as I’m arched between two sets of firm hands, a tongue arcing along the small of my back and up the valley of my spine. My shoes are, and my socks. My bra goes floating away from me as hands come up to cover my breasts and masse them, the pads of an unknown man’s fingers teasing at the nipples. I feel hot breath between my legs, warming the cotton of my panties—I’m distracted from this as I’m rotated, teeth sinking into my backside—the panties are gone, the last I feel of them is a flick of fabric at my ankles.
I’m spread like a starfish—there are mouths tracing their ravishing lust over my electrified flesh—kisses along my arms, lips closed over my neck, teeth pressing in and sending a lighting shock through me, curling my toes which have their own attendant lover. And, finally, a man with his scruffy five o’ clock shadow wedged between my thighs, his tongue flashing out to lash at my eager cunt, my engorged clit whipped by an agile tongue, and I am no longer fish, but all star, going nova.
I go rigid in their lofting grip and the man between my legs is encouraged, closing his mouth over my sex and drawing me deeply into him. He slides his tongue broadly over my lips, then slips it up like a spear to dash at my clit and rock me with another jolt of ecstasy. He alternates, teasingly, between attending the button and plunging into my depths, tasting me at my core, his thick tongue filling me up and darting in and out of me like a nimble cock.
His arms reach up around my hips so that the whole of my body’s weight is rested on his face and he pulls me even deeper into him, his tongue reaching preternaturally long inside me, with more strength and skill than seems possible. His thumbs came down as his tongue worked inside me and began to massage my clit between them.
I rocketed over the edge, caught between the tongue in my pussy and the mouths moving luxuriously over my calves, my thighs, the small of my back, the nape of my neck, out to the tips of my fingers. It’s blinding and smooth, hot and cold, solid and soft—like the sun twelve o’ clock high over freshly fallen snow.
They let me down carefully, laying me out on the table in the center of the room. My knees are guided up and back. I feel the coolness of the room on my scorching sex. I’m still coming down from my orgasm and every single solitary nerve ending is on high-alert. The coarse wood grain of the table—I sense its every curve and knot and the way my skin and sweat fill its sweeping valleys. I smell lingering beer in the air—some spilled and stale, some fresh and wafting from unwashed glasses. The men are almost uncomfortably silent, focused.
I’m shifted again, so my hips are right at the very edge of the table and when I look up I see that it’s Zac pulling me towards him. He towers over me, arms swept beneath my knees. His cock is rock hard and ready. He doesn’t need to touch it—it knows precisely where it wants to go. All he needs to do is take one, small step forward.
His hips tilt and the head of his monstrous manhood comes into sizzling contact with me. It slips effortlessly between my soaking lips. He keeps it there, unmoving, a monolithic tease.
Then, Zac begins to rock. He is moving slowly, steadily into me. Every detail of his thickness—I feel it: the parabolic widening from tip to glans; the well-defined edge where I meet the gradual swell of the shaft; the veins like webs, like art, like a bas-relief of the world’s surging rivers filled with rushing blood.
His pubic hair, a soft cushion, presses into me. He has nothing left to give—but neither have I. We’ve met, sex for sex, and matched like key and lock. He unwinds his arms from my legs and places his hands, one after the other, on either side of me with deliberate care. He’s above me, leaning in, close and closer, sweat and smoke and soap filling me along with his cock and then his kiss.
As we kissed he began to thrust, his powerful cock sliding out to the edge and easing back in. I felt the raw flesh of his godly cock pressing at every inch of me, right to the very end, stretching me perfectly. Flawless rhythm, speed, force. This was more than a man, more than an animal—this was a machine, finely tuned to the service of pleasure. Maybe that was one of the benefits of a spiritual pair-bonding.
My eyelids fluttered and my toes clenched as the next orgasm began to build in me. I swung my legs up around his waist and pulled myself against him. My fingers wove through his hair and clawed at his shoulders. His technique was relentless though.
He pounded me with his cock indefatigably, a man who knew precisely how to give me absolute and perfect pleasure.
He wasn’t hurting for it either. I felt his cock growing inside me and that fueled me further. I clamped down on him, my pussy squeezing and milking as he throbbed and thrust. We wrapped all around each other and held on for dear life as we both erupted against each other. Zac flooded me with his cum, shooting jet after hot, thick jet of the good stuff deep into my womb.
We collapsed there on the table for a moment. It felt longer, but it must have been quick. Zac rolled off to give the others a go. There seemed to be an understanding in the room—perhaps it
was there before we even started—that the decision had already been arrived at and the rest was mere “formality”. Well, so be it.
Zac was respectful of tradition and stepped aside while the others gathered around. They, too, were respectful of tradition, particularly in the acknowledgement that after tonight, they would never have another crack at my cunt. So they certainly made the most of it.
Their golden eyes shimmered with a lascivious hunger. I imagine that my baby blues matched theirs, appetite for appetite. This was my last go ‘round on the ol’ carousel. If I was married off to Zac tonight, there’d be no new dick ‘til death do we part. And I sure as heck ain’t cheating on a half-man, half-bear.
The men fully released the animals inside them. There was no care or love in this action now, and I loved them for it. I was yanked back into position at the edge of the table and turned on my side. One leg dropped down the side of the table, my toes just barely catching the ground to steady myself as one man unceremoniously shoved his cock hard and long all the way into my pussy, slamming up against the very end of me.
Another man wrapped his hand through my hair and forced my mouth around his cock. He fucked my face, and then my throat, ramming his hard, precum-leaking cock along my tongue and down into my throat.
Someone’s hand slapped my ass hard and I cried out around the cock in my mouth. There were hands on my ass, squeezing and kneading and finally prying the cheeks apart. A thick tongue found its way into the in between and came up against my tight, virgin rosebud. He swirled his tongue around my asshole as the other cock thrust in and out of my pussy at a hard angle, so as not to slap the other with his balls.
Around and around the tongue went, like a power drill, slowly slipping inside my ass. He pulled my ass apart and shoved his face against my tight hole as hard as he could, snaking his tongue deeper and deeper into my ass. I groaned against the cock at the back of my throat, in love with the sensation of having someone tongue my ass.
He pulled away and stood, leaving my ass slobbery with spit. His cock was next up for the privilege of fucking my asshole. He pushed the head in hard and without ceremony. It popped right past my sphincter and rested there a moment while I relaxed around it. It was a tall order, what with the other dick sawing in and out of my pussy at the same time.
He began to fuck my ass slowly, filling me up bit by bit, gaining more ground—so to speak—on each of the other cock’s withdrawals. In no time at all, he was balls-deep in my ass. Suddenly, I was completely full of cock.
They fucked me hard and fast with raw animalistic fervor. I raged back against them, fucking furiously as Zac stood back, a grin on his lips. My body writhed around them, twisting hips in time to the thrusts so I could take the full force of the cocks working me from all sides.
I wanted their cum—all their cum—deep inside me, filling me up, like a perverse souvenir from my most unbelievable day. The sheer erotic power of the moment overwhelmed me and the last orgasm of the day began its rise, filling me up like the armies of a great empire marching to the battlefield, powder ready, cannons lit.
First the man in my mouth came, jerking as I squeezed his balls and shooting his cum straight down my gullet. Then the man in my pussy in time with the one in my ass. All three, pumping their hot, sticky seed into my very core—I erupted at this, every muscle clamping down, every hair raised, every nerve vibrating like a blade of grass in a gale storm breeze.
And then it was over. The men parted. All that was left was Zac. And that was perfect.
Zac scooped me up in his arms and held me tight against him as he carried me to our room. The room where we went on to spend every night, with love and lust. The room where our love—despite all of my misgivings and surprise—flourished. Every day, something new, something wonderful, something powerful to remind me of his love and the powerful, eternal bond between us.
THE END
~~~
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BEAR TO HIS GAZE
The forest fell silent as the two bears, towering above me, squared off. It seemed as if my heart had stopped and yet even so I could hear the blood rushing through my head.
There were clothes in shredded tatters around them and they stepped through the mud on their broad feet, encircling each other and moving away from where I stood.
Then they attacked—falling forward onto all fours they rushed at each other, shoulders clashing and teeth gnashing. Their roars spilt the silence and sent the birds scattering into the sky like confetti—leaves fell from the forest canopy like tickertape.
As I watched this display of raw animal power I felt a familiar tingle travel from the back of neck through my stomach to the warming space between my legs. I was growing damp watching these two bears fighting.
A healthy young lady growing damp at the sight of, apparently, two animals fighting is only the second strangest thing you’ll come to understand about this situation. And once I tell you the whole thing, you won’t think it’s quite so strange—you might even share my rush of arousal.
But for you to understand that, you’d need to understand how I got here in the first place—how I ended up with two bears fighting for my flesh.
“Ah! Ana, is that you?” My eyes locked onto the man from whom the voice had come. I was immediately entranced. It was as if the warming fireplaces in the room had sapped all the moisture and I was left gasping.
When I first arrived at Mountain Bear Lodge, I was awed by the imposing entrance—tall, glass doors set into the broad, all-wood façade of the lodge, almost the size of a city block. Or so it seemed at least, nestled as it was in the pines of the forest, on a large plateau against the slope of a sharply rising mountain.
I pushed one heavy door open and was met by the happy news that I was not going to be in charge of the heating—the heat inside was welcoming.
The walls were adorned by elk hides and deer heads, and on the floor was the pelt of a wolf made into a carpet. The yawning lobby entrance held the room with the breadth and severity of an ancient cathedral made of dark red wood, all but glowing in the early morning sun.
In front of me were two sets of sweeping staircases, with a fire set between. A man began to descend the stairs in front of me to my left.
In the giant space, enough to make anyone seem small, this man fit right in. He filled the room with his natural size and his preternatural presence. His face was aglow with a broad smile and framed by thick, curling locks that reached down to his shoulders. His chest was magnificently broad and pulled at the feeble buttons on his dark, plaid shirt, chest hair pouring out where the top two buttons were undone.
His jeans were tight around the thighs and waist, and accentuated the broadness of his chest, and the tree-trunk-like stature of his legs. And tucked along the inside of his thigh was something that couldn’t possibly be…but must’ve been…something massive.
“I’m glad you made it alright,” said the incredible masterpiece of a man. He stepped off the stairs and greeted me with a firm handshake. “I’m Blake—we spoke on Skype. Drake will be down in a bit.”
The image on the video chat had been a bit blurry. I’d had no idea the sort of man I was getting ready to meet. And I’d certainly never imagined him. If his brother was half as attractive as he was, then I’d certainly be in trouble.
I was set to spend the next several months up here in this lonely mountain lodge. The
first two weeks I’d be alone with these brothers, helping set up before the first guests arrived.
“Hi! Yeah, I’m Ana,” I said stupidly. “Uh, glad to be here.”
He smiled at me. “I know, this place is imposing, isn’t it? You’ll get used to it,” he said reassuringly as he reached out to the giant suitcase I was trailing and plucked it from the ground like a purse. “Let’s get you squared away with your room and then we’ll get started. There’s a lot of ground to cover before the season starts.”
Blake led me up the stairs, then through a door, up a set of spiral staircases that bypassed the third and fourth floors, to the helps’ rooms at the top. He put my suitcase down on the bed lightly and asked if I needed anything.
“Not a thing,” I said, though it almost crossed my mind to ask him to grab some coffee and stay a while. In that small room, with his imposing form bearing down on me, I couldn't help wanting him to take me right then and there.
“Unpack your things and meet us down on the second floor when you’re done,” he said. “You’ll be able to hear where we are down the hall. Take your time.”
Then he left, closing the door quietly behind him. I stood over my bed and began pulling my clothes out and laying them into the dresser drawers with care. As soon as I was done I went over to the mirror, fixed my hair, and headed out.
As I pulled open the door I didn’t even notice the person in front of me. He filled the frame of the door so completely that I couldn’t wrap my head around it. When I tried to move forward and bumped into his burly chest I gave a start and stumbled back.
“Where the hell have you been?” The man’s voice boomed terrifyingly.
I backed up against the bed, putting out a hand behind me to steady myself. I took in his full form as he bent down to tuck his head under the doorframe and entered the room. “You…uh, you must be Drake,” I said. “Uh, your brother said I could put my things away before I came down.”
