The Wrestling Adventures

of Luke and Sean

by Vic Logan

Part 1

Trials of a Bearcub

It was the summer I turned sixteen and my hormones were burning me to a crisp. Wrestling a good hot bearcub guy like me, both of us big, hairy, and bareassed naked was all I fantasized about, and I was shooting buckets of jism every time I thought about it: when I went to bed at night, when I woke up, in the bathroom, in my room or in the basement alone, you name it. My hand was clamped tight on my cock and pumped with a vengeance.

Just the thought of tangling naked with other bear cubs got me horny and hard. Ooh yeah! The guys who put the iron in my rod and made it go purple and got my mouth watery were guys with beefy, built-for-action bodies, thick chests, shoulders, arms, and legs all covered with a nice coat of dark hair. The furrier the better, and the thought of a contest with guy my size or better who had a good hairy chest and belly and fuzzy fur down his legs made me squirt buckets of jism.

Just where to find and take on this hot bearcub in suburban New Jersey was the task. With one of the guys at school, maybe, or from my old scout troop? Well, sure, I used to get into some routine schoolboy roughhousing with a couple of the guys, but nothing like my fantasy, a brutal man-to-man battle between two naked furry young 'uns. I wanted -- needed -- to test my limits of pain and endurance, slam my body down hard on top of some hot-looking bear cub, and then shoot big sprays of jism all over him.

Well, if I couldn't find my fantasy bearcub at least the pride of my manhood was getting harder, thicker, and longer with more frequent use.

Was I a bearcub? At a husky 5-foot-9 and 185 pounds, with dark fuzzy legs and forearms and a healthy crop of dark brown shoots sprouting on my chest and gut, there was no mistaking it. I had my father's Greek ancestry and my mother's Irish genes to thank for my furriness. Dad was a burly bear who when shirtless showed off a terrific pelt on his pecs and belly. My mom's father and brothers, all of whom I detested, were all what you might call otters, slim but furry.

That summer, I signed up for a junior wrestling class at the local YMCA. A couple of the guys on the team were real hot cubs with lots of potential, and I managed to get them to practice with me one-on-one a few times. But they turned out to be jerks as well as sticklers for rules and heavy-duty gear. I wanted to wrestle the natural way, please eighty-six all that by-the-rules shit. I lasted two weeks in that class.

But to be honest the main reason I quit was that every time I prepared to practice my dick swelled up because all I could think about was the two of us going at it naked, hot, and sweaty and the winner cumming all over the loser. It was an unlikely scenario for the ever-so-straight-and-narrow Y. But that's sixteen for you.

Frustrated but determined, I haunted used book stores and started a good collection of wrestling books and magazines. Some of the tattered old issues I found were chock full of photos of big, beefy amateur and pro wrestlers. Also, I found some books on mythology and sports in ancient history with great color prints showing ancient Greek, Roman, and Egyptian wrestlers battling it out naked. Every time I looked at those prints I put myself in the scene: Naked, I was locked up with another hairy fucker in fierce, manly combat, testing my raw stuff against his, feeling the sweaty grip and grit and slam of body against body.

Just how and where I was going to meet this guy in suburban New Jersey I didn't have a clue.

By the end of June my dysfunctional parents prepared for their annual separate vacations coinciding with the Fourth of July. For two weeks every July, my mom returned to San Diego to visit her super-straight U. S. Navy family while Dad went camping in Upstate New York with an old friend. This annual split vacation was anything but a good time for me because Mom always insisted on taking me and my younger brother, Peter, along with her.

It was two weeks of hell and torture.

Her retired, goose-stepping-captain-father and three jerkoff officer brothers, all of whom mom worshipped, were true-blue U.S. Navy, and the biggest assholes I'd ever met. Their attitudes made a lead pencil look like a four-lane highway.

From the moment I arrived they drilled me and my brother about the glorious day when we would join the Navy to continue a proud family tradition; I wanted no part of that and told them plainly. My grandfather and uncles didn't exactly take my telling them to mind their own business very kindly, and so I was a little civilian pansy who was duped by his worthless ex-hippie, draft-dodging father. That was a reference to the fact that Dad had been opposed to the Vietnam war.

My Dad's camping trip in the Adirondacks was a mystery to me. All Dad ever told me was that he went camping with this guy Greg, his best friend since they were teenagers back in Upstate New York. When Dad came back from this trip he was always relaxed and in a good mood, which I attributed to the fact that he was away from Mom. On the other hand, my mother always returned from her family more militant and authoritarian than ever. The mix was, as you'd expect, toxic.

Two weeks before that year's parting of the ways Dad dropped a bomb on me: since I was sixteen now, he said, and "becoming your own man," it was time to decide for myself where I wanted to spend my vacation. I could choose: San Diego or the Adirondacks. Mom had already agreed.

The thought that I wouldn't have to endure the naval recruitment nazis any more was too much and my changing voice screeched out a howling No shiiit! two octaves higher than normal range. Dad just chuckled at my excitement and told me what to pack. I felt sorry for Petey, but he was bedazzled by thoughts of naval glory and the darling of Mom's family, so I didn't sweat it.

I had been liberated.

Dad also mentioned that his buddy Greg was also bringing his son along this year too.

"Sean's eighteen," he added, aware that kids often have a thing about an age difference of even a year. "He's a real good guy, very friendly and a lot of fun. I hope you two hit it off okay. But whatever happens," he added with a strange smile, "just do whatever you want, it's your vacation and what you do is your own business."

I didn't ask him to explain nor did I care. Just give me a few weeks of freedom and I could handle anything.

A week later I was standing in front of two small cabins surrounded by woods nestled on the shore of a lake in a remote part of the Adirondack Mountains. It was the most beautiful place I'd ever seen, a paradise, and I knew why Dad loved it there.

Dad and I drove up two days before Greg and his son were to arrive. When I asked him whose campsite it was he dropped another bomb, saying he and Greg owned the place together and had built the cabins, quickly adding with a wink, "And I'd take it as a personal favor if you wouldn't mention that little fact to your mother."

"What campsite?" I shrugged. As a matter of survival I always stayed out of parental quarrels.

In our time on the road and at the camp Dad and I both started to relax and open up a little with each other, more than we'd ever been at home. That was our first real time together, and I started seeing my father as another man entirely: he smiled a lot more readily, and was a warm, easy-going, friendly sort of guy ready to joke around a lot and even get downright clownish.

He even gently teased me about the longer time I spent in the bathroom, "choking the chicken" as he phrased it, adding that I needn't feel weird because he used to do it and so had every sixteen-year-old since the human race got going.

Dad talked about sexual issues but never grilled me about anything connected with sex. He respected my privacy, he said that I had to learn about myself and that meant having some space. I felt more at ease with him, and discovering what a likeable man he was I even began to tease him back, which I never used to do. Of course, I was still too scared to open up about my hot wrestling fantasies.

I bunked in the second cabin a few yards away from the main cabin. Dad winked when he said I'd need privacy. Sharing my apprehensions about Sean with him, Dad said not to worry, Sean will treat you okay. In any case, sleeping alone in that cabin the first two nights was my first real taste of privacy and I jerked my rod to my wrestling pictures and squirted bearcub juice till I damn near hit the timbers. Adios, San Diego.

But I kept wondering what this Greg and Sean were like. After all, I was going to be there for almost three weeks.

Early the third morning, the Adirondack silence was jarred by the loud shouts of men's voices. Jolted awake, I got up. As usual, so did my bearcub cock.

Peering out the window I saw two big, burly bears shouting and carrying on like two big overgrown kids, bear-hugging, mock-punching and slapping each other. Seeing Dad act like that I realized I really didn't know the guy.

Alongside him was Greg, one of the hottest looking men I ever saw, a burly, rugged looking bear and definitely no office worker. Greg was the kind of man whose body was molded outdoors with hard physical work. Dad had told me Greg was a carpenter and woodworker with his own successful small business. It showed.

In body build Greg and my Dad were a lot alike. Greg was a six-footer with thick curly black hair and a dark beard. The guy was a brick shithouse with a huge barrel chest, strong, heavy arms and legs. And he was a hairy fucker too, wearing shorts and an open, sleeveless shirt showed off his nice dark pelt. According to Dad Greg was of Cajun and Arcadian-French-Canadian ancestry.

Dad was 6-foot-2 with medium brown straight hair and always wore a bushy mustache over his square jaw. Both probably weighed around 220 pounds at least.

Seeing the two of 'em together with my usual good-morning pistol cocked and ready to shoot, I couldn't help thinking that it would be hot watching two big old bears like them wrestling their asses off. Yeah, that would be very hot to watch. Two big furry fuckers, all lathered up and---

Then he was there. I didn't believe what just walked into my line of vision. He was a big young bearcub, the hottest looking bearcub I'd ever laid eyes on. He was the Lord of Bearcubs.

My boner got even harder.

In all my fantasies in which I wrestled another bearcub I could visualize everything about the guy's body, except his face. Now, there before me he stood, my fantasy, made flesh. Hard, hairy, manly flesh. Greg's son Sean was my ultimate cub bear.

At eighteen, this guy was ripe and built for action. In a tanktop shirt he showed off a good, generous coat of body hair over thickly muscled legs, arms, and ankles. He had thick, shaggy jet-black hair that fell down over his thick muscular neck, two killer dark eyes, and a square manly jaw. Big, power-packed, magnificently hairy pecs clinched it for me! He even had a beard shadow. I could tell he was taller than me, closer to his dad's height. Seeing him next to Greg there was no doubt Sean was his son.

'Holy shiitt!' Check out this fucker! Man, that's one hot fuckin' bear!' My hushed voice cracked.

Buck naked and hornier than ever, I knelt up, hands locked around my thick rod. My mouth dried into a desert, my heart pounded inside my hairy chest, my eyes shut; a new vision took hold of my being: in a place deep and secluded in a thick forest, Luke the Bearcub fought Sean the Bearcub Lord.

Naked, the sunlight dappling on our hairy bodies, we locked in hard combat, grappled in furious battle.

Rolling on the ground in a frenzied struggle, our sweat-soaked legs, arms, and chests were caked with soil and pine needles and grass. A savage, hirsute young warrior in a furious wrestling trial against his chief adversary, a contest of our manhood, muscle, and will.

Suddenly the advantage was mine: I pinned his weight down, flat on his back, pressed hard into the loose soil under the weight of my body; pressing him down as hard as I could, pressing my prone, hard body hard on his, our slick, hairy chests grinding together, our bellies pressed together, our legs grapevined, and then I ---

Then, as I shot the longest, thickest, fattest cum ribbons that ever splashed out of my sixteen-year-old cock, the cabin door swung open and --- you guessed it --- Sean hurried in, hollering, "Hey, where's my new buddy, Luke?!"

I saw a duffel bag fly across the room, and behind it strode a toweringly big, breathtakingly handsome bearcub. I froze. The Lord of Bearcubs had seen me and was heading right for me. I was still shooting jism as he put out his hand, a big shit-eating grin on his face.

"Hey, I've been looking forward to meeting-----!"

What's that saying about first impressions?

My heart pounded so furiously I thought I'd choke on it. When you fuck up, I heard myself mutter, you fuck up big.

"What the fuck--!" Silence. The Lord of Bearcubs stopped cold, the big grin vanished. His eyes widened and he just stared down at me, my boner, and the pools of fresh jism.

"Whooaa! Alright Luke, my man!" His voice could have splintered the cabin walls.

"Hey, old man --- looks like you and me have one thing in common. When I wake up I shoot jism all over the place too. Good hot manjuice! Man, I love it! I looove jerkin' my hard tool!"

The big grin beamed again. Then to my total awe, Sean bent his legs at the knees, threw back his big frame as he pretended to stroke his cock, contorting his facial expression and mock-groaning and even jerking his body as he pretended to shoot his load.

He chuckled and smiled triumphantly, putting his hand out again. "I guess it's gonna be sort of wet in here! Nice meeting ya, Luke!"

I remember our hands clasping hard together, and that he didn't mind how clammy my hand was as he took it in his. I remember the power of his grip and the strength and beauty of Sean's burly, hirsute body standing over me and his huge, friendly, give-a-shit grin. I remember wanting to rip off his clothes and start rasslin'.

And I remember thinking, Luke, we're not in San Diego any more.

Later Dad and I helped Greg and Sean unpack their gear. Greg was not just big and hot but a friendly, funny bear and we took to each other right away.

In spite of the two-year age difference Sean didn't seem to care and was treating me like a proverbial long-lost brother. He also managed to get me hard several times because he was a really physical kind of guy who loved roughhousing and horseplay.

After we got their gear unpacked Dad and Greg said they were going fishing for the day out on the lake, and asked whether Sean and I cared to join them, or did we have other plans?

Before I could answer Sean piped up, flashed his trademark shit-eating grin, slapped me hard on the back and blurted loudly, "You're damn right we've got our own plans! I'm taking my new buddy Luke here hiking. Someone's gotta show the man the Adirondacks and teach him how to survive in the wilderness."

Greg and Dad wished us a good day getting lost in the woods and we told them we didn't think much of their boating skills anyway as they rowed off. Dad shot me a look I'd never seen him give me before, a delight at my obvious joy in finding a new buddy like Sean.

It was an ideal summer say, hot and clear, and the woods crackled with life. Sean and I hiked our way around the lake, seeing no other human beings. Sean had been here a lot and knew every single trail, tree, and shrub. He also had the forethought to tote a backpack crammed with his version of trail mix: popcorn, peanut butter crackers, and two canteens of water.

As each hour passed Sean and I sealed our new bonds of friendship. I was able to drop my usual defenses and heard myself say things to him I'd never said to any guy before. He was genuine, funny, and the friendliest sucker I ever met.

He was also my hot fantasy bearcub and I kept getting hard-ons I tried to cover up.

At one point I even got up the balls to ask him bluntly whether he minded hanging around a sixteen-year-old. Sean shrugged and said if he liked someone, he didn't care how old they were. "And I like you, Luke, I want us to be good buddies."

And then with that huge shit-eating grin he pats my crotch and says, "Besides, any guy who can shoot a bucket of cum like you at six a. m. is definitely worth knowing!"

Sean had few physical inhibitions. He was constantly hugging me, play-punching or grabbing me by a body part, or putting me in a headlock or a half-nelson. I was getting a definite message, so I did the same with him.

There were a lot of messages passing between us that day. We were play-wrestling a lot, trading headlocks and other holds. While the horseplay only lasted a few seconds at first, as the afternoon wore on they lasted a little longer each time. My boner would not go away. He saw it and let em know he saw it, and was telling me great it was. I was ecstatic.

At noon we rested on a high ridge overlooking the lake, the sun now hotter. Sean peeled off his tanktop and my mouth really started watering. His chest and belly were familiar. I saw them in all my fantasies. Now there was a face and a voice and a being with that flesh.

I'd pulled my shirt off too and we kicked back, lying side by side. Sean's green eyes trained down at my swollen crotch and joked again about me and my dick. He put his arm around me and punched my pec with his other arm.

"Man, I'm glad you showed up here, buddy! Just remember, you and I are here to do everything we want to do, the way we want!"

Just the way Dad had put it to me, two weeks before.

That night it was steamy hot and our cabin was roasting. We lit an oil lantern, left the door wide open and kicked back yakking about TV shows and martial-arts actors.

I remember thinking that nothing would happen if one of didn't do something, so I found my courage. Standing up I casually said it too fuckin' hot, and flashing Sean a shiteating grin of my own I took off my shorts and shirt, leaving me in nothing but my jock. Sean grinned back at me, his eyes fixed on my crotch.

"Hey Luke, man, looks like you take good care of yourself, ‘cause you look great in that jock."

He stood up and tore off every stitch of clothing and my fantasy bearcub-god stood buck naked two feet away, smiling at me, his thick cock pointing at my groin. All I could do was stare at Sean's magnificently beautiful, large hairy body and his hard manhood and get harder. Our faces flushed with daring while our bodies began to pulse with anticipation, and excitement, and challenge.

"Go on, Luke," Sean said with uncharacteristic softness. "Take that damn thing off. Shit, buddy, you don't need it, do you?"

I shook my head, removed the jock. I remember that it felt like taking off something much heavier, bulkier. A new sense of strength and power flowed through my body. Our two bearcocks danced in the raw hot air.

Instinctively we bent into a crouch, raised our arms and locked our hands, pushing, our muscles tightening in our arms and shoulders and chests as we tested our naked strength.

"Yeah, that's my man! Fight me, buddy ... C'mon, man -- let's go at it ... I knew you have a lot of good fight in you! Just like all that good hot jism in your boner."

"How the fuck did you know?" I demanded, struggling harder.

"Today, hiking -- I kept testing you. I knew."

Our hands were clammy as they remained locked hard. "What's it going to be, Sean?"

"Whatever you want. Name it."

"How about an all-out brawl?"

Sean shoved me back hard and I almost fell. He was larger and heavier than I was and he had wrestled in school. Suddenly I felt all his power and with our nakedness it intoxicated me. "I'll give you the biggest fucking brawl you ever got, buddy. But you're gonna have to catch me first."

Letting loose with a loud, piercingly high-pitched howl, Sean raced out the door and I took off after him in wild pursuit, howling my own battle-cry. The strong light of a full moon glistened on our naked bodies and on the lake as Sean and I raced down the slope, hollering and howling up a storm.

Sean hit water first but I was only one or two paces behind him and leapt at him, tackling him. We splashed down in the bathtub-warm lake and began a furious struggle in the shallow water. We grappled madly for a minute or so before Sean grabbed me and flipped me over his shoulder. Somehow I got hold of his legs and using the buoyancy I upended him and it was his turn to go under.

He got on his feet, I tackled him again and we fought and struggled for another minute in the waste-high water, dunking each other. I got him in a side headlock when he grabbed my cock and balls and squeezed, really hard. Letting go of Sean I yelped, as much out of excitement as pain. No one ever did that to me. It felt magnificent.

Sean raced out of the water on to the shore, turned around and stood flashing me his trademark grin. The moonlight glistened on his wet, hairy torso.

"You said an all out brawl."

Clutching my nuts I stepped out of the water and went to him. Our faces, bodies were inches apart. The awesome power and grandeur of his big, hirsute bearcub body was radiant. This great stud in front of me was my partner in battle, and my friend.

"And I meant it," I answered. "You said we'll have things the way we want." I saw his dick bobbing, a huge chunk of rock hard bearcock growing out of his furry groin. I reached down and grabbed my cock and whacked it against his rock-hard bearflesh as hard as I could.

Our bodies tensed, quivered; a bolt that felt like an electric charge shot through us.

Thwack! Arrghhhh! Two naked bearcubs, we stood there and fought with our cocks. I was scared I'd come too early, but as I looked into Sean's face and saw his expression of wild pleasure and felt my own sweet rush of electric pain it no longer mattered. Harder and harder Sean and I slapped our cocks, again and again.

Loud noises. Thud --- Boom! Awwwrrrghh!

It wasn't me or Sean. A ruckus was coming from our Dads' cabin, sounding like things crashing against the walls.

"What th' fuck ...?" I blurted, shaking and quivering as Sean kept up his cockfighting.

The noises grew louder. My curiosity, and my cock, was up now but I didn't want to break off our cockfight.

"Wanna check that out?" he whispered, and landed the hardest whack of his cock yet, and I almost came.

"Okay ....!" Cursing Sean as he squealed laughing, I managed to pull myself away and we took off for the cabin, my concern for our Dads' safety vying with my raging sixteen-year-old hardon.

The cabin door was wide open, the dim light within just bright enough to illumine our two fathers, wrestling on thick old mats, the furniture pushed up against the walls, both older bears as buck naked as the day they were born.

I was dumbfounded. And hornier than hell, thanks to my cockfight with Sean and now watching another fantasy come to life. There were these two big bareass, sweat-dripping, hairy-assed, naked bear men rasslin' for all they were worth. And one of them was my own father.

They were also damn good at it and having the time of their lives. I suddenly knew why Dad was always so cheerful when he came back from his vacation.

The spectacle fascinated and excited me. I couldn't stop watching them fight and didn't try. Sean and I stood there in the doorway, arms around each other, wet, sweaty, watching Dad and Greg grab hold of each other in a huge bearhug and with great growls of sweet pain and pleasure mash each other's bodies hard until I thought one of them would pass out.

I would have but Sean held me tight against his rugged body, pressed against mine, our wet hairy legs rubbing together. When I looked up into his face he looked at me and I saw not just wildness and pride, but also something else, something indefinable but strong, impenetrable, tough and long-lasting.

Our papa bears nearly knocked us on our asses as they literally wrestled themselves out the door, oblivious to the two of us. Sean and I jumped aside in time not to be steamrollered. Out on the grass Dad and Greg, snarling and growling, crashed to the ground with a thud we felt and started rolling around, arms and legs locked together in a fierce struggle.

Then they got on their feet and started gut-punching each other. Each punch brought a loud, biting growl of pain, intense and sharp. I wondered if their match was going to turn into an all-out fight. But they didn't let it, they just kept rasslin'.

Greg managed to wrench Dad over and pin him down, grapevining him. There was a pause that lasted longer than I expected. The two naked fighters lay under the moonlight. I could see their big chests pressed against each other, matted with sweat, heaving hard. There was no other movement.

Then Greg released Dad, jerked his huge body up into that air over Dad and slammed his sweat-caked body down on top of him, hard, very hard: a great hard thud of bear body against bear body, raw hairy chest against raw hairy chest. Sean's Dad against my Dad. Body-bombing himself down on him again and again, each collision bringing a loud groan from Dad, and from Greg.

At last they were spent and motionless. All I could see were two bodies one atop the other.

Sean pulled my arm and gestured that it was time to give them some space and renew our own battle. Wordlessly we walked off arm in arm. We stepped between some pine near our cabin and found a small clearing. Sean turned and looked at me, not with his impish grin, but with something else. There was no need to tell each other what this match was about, what we wanted. Secrets were banished forever between us.

And then we crashed head-on like two runaway trucks. Aching for a battle we'd each dreamed of and wanting to risk all of it and pit all our blood and muscle against each other, we two young bears began a wild struggle.

As I wrapped my arms around his big thick hairy chest and squeezed him and felt our chests pounding, Sean's arms enveloped my upper body and wrenched my back tighter, tighter, harder, harder.

We pushed, each trying to force the other down. It was no good and we grunted louder as we kept trying every trick and maneuver to get the other off balance and down. Our eyes flashed and our chests burned hot. Hands, arms, legs were our weapons and we used them freely.

I found that I was a better wrestler than I thought. I flashed a shit-eating grin of my as Sean tried to rassle me to the ground but couldn't. After that we kicked each other karate-style, and Sean tried several times to grab my leg but I was quicker than he figured. I wouldn't budge.

Sean threw a kick that landed in my thigh near my groin, and I almost caught him and tripped him. We started kicking savagely, then threw a few old-fashioned rabbit punches at our trunks, arms and legs.

We were grappling so fiercely we didn't realize we'd wrestled ourselves through the pines back to our cabin.

Then Sean grabbed my pecs and squeezed them as hard as he could, pinching the hairs in my chest. My eyes slammed shut while bolts of exquisite pain flashed through my body. He knew more about me than I guessed.

While I went limp from the pain he clutched my legs and pulled them up so that I crashed backward against the thick grass with a loud thud. At the instant I made contact with the ground Sean dropped on top of me the way Greg dove on Dad, slamming his body as hard as he could down on to mine, knocking the wind out of me. An enormous gasp of air rushed out my mouth, I grimaced as I saw his body arch into the air and, thump, another hard body-bomb.

With a great delicious gulp of pain I received the hard, heavy blow of his full naked body on mine. He arched up quickly again and dropped down harder on me. This time he and I both gasped.

Sean seemed unable to move for a while, and lay prone on top of me. My body ached, yet I felt my cock swell up and harden again under the heavy, raw body of my fellow warrior.

But he was not finished. His hands clenched in another vise-grip on my pecs, twisting. As I writhed and groaned his mouth found my hairy pec and he bit down hard on my nipple. With every moment we were getting wilder. We were alive.

Then I grabbed his hair and twisted. He didn't expect that and lost his momentum, so I pulled his head sidelong and rolled him over until he was flat on his belly. Now I jumped on top of him and got him in a sort of Boston-crab hold. He cried out.

"Awrrgh! You little fucker!" Sean groaned. "That was dirty, man!"

"All out brawl, remember?" I shot back as I stood and yanked him by the hair, throwing him over on his back.

Now I dropped the full weight of my body down hard on Sean. He groaned loudly as he took the blow of my body and I felt my cock slam into his hairy crotch. Our bodies smelled of sweat and dirt and fight. I body-bombed him again, and again, and again.

After a while I stood, stepped back and crouched over him, daring him to stand and keep fighting. Neither of us wanted to quit.

He got up and we rammed into each other, locking up in a savagely grinding bearhug. Our arms clamped shut around each other's body, we felt the charge of each other's raw power churning as we ground our naked bodies against each other. Giving and taking brutal pain, we freed energy and desire that was dammed up for years, locked away in a bathroom jerk-off or hidden in nightly fantasies.

With great gasps we let go, both winning. We stumbled apart, glaring at each other, chests panting heavily. We saw the absolute pleasure in our wild expressions.

"Enough practice?" Sean gasped.

"Should do it," I mumbled. "Try this...!"

I jabbed a punch into his gut. Another test of our limits and thresholds of pain. We were reading each other perfectly so far.

The gut-punch stunned Sean, and excited him. He gasped as his body folded momentarily but instantly he straightened up, a wilder look of pleasure gleaming in his big dark eyes.

Crouching, I was anticipating a retaliatory punch to my gut but instead Sean swatted my cock and balls just hard enough to send me earthward. Predictability wasn't Sean's trademark in combat.

As I nursed my throbbing balls we paused for a moment. We looked into each other and our reflections.

In a moment we were on our feet, pounding on our guts with our fists, blow by blow. After a couple of blows we were both pretty much doubled up with pain, and ended up down on our knees.

Another moment or two to recover and then we were up again, now for another cockfight, taking turns slapping and whacking our rods until suddenly we gasped and fell against each other. We had crossed to the borders of pain, ecstasy, and energy.

Leaning against each other, we braced our heads against each other, hands on shoulders, watching our cocks fill up with blood and cum and become thick branches of bearflesh. We pushed the cockheads against each other and rubbed and massaged the cockheads for a long time. Then we grabbed our bearcocks and squeezed our cocks together, rubbing and twisting and clutching them. After a minute I couldn't sense which tool belonged to which man.

And then as my face grimaced and twisted, a long deep moan rose in my throat and flowed out of my mouth as a warm stream of manjuice splashed out of my cockhead; an offering of one man to another, the creamy prize of our combat. And at the same instant that my thick cum splashed over Sean, soaking the sweat-soaked hairs on his chest and belly, Sean's manhood roared: white streaks of hot jism squirted out of Sean's thick rod drenching my pubes and my hairy belly, chest, and even my throat and face.

We squirted so much cum I thought we would never stop.

We collapsed into each other, crying and laughing together, neither able to utter a discernible sound. A heap of wet, hairy flesh, I was prone on top of Sean, holding each other as we laughed and cried.

"I never ... man .... that was ... so fucking terrific ... !" I blubbered.

Sean blubbered and laughed too, for a long silence. Then he pulled me tight. "You and me ... this is for a lifetime."

A few moments later he flipped me over. He was prone on top of me. Our chests and bellies and pelvises were soaked with cum and sweat and Sean started grinding.

The Grin flashed anew. "But this battle ain't over yet!" and he tried to pin my arms down. We growled and grappled, howled and rolled over the grassy slope when suddenly we collided into tree trunks.

But the tree trunks were the legs of our two fathers. They had been watching for some time.

"So, um," Greg deadpanned, "do you guys ever do any wrestling?" Then they grabbed us and threw us in the lake, jumping in after us and we all started wrestling.

Later, exhausted but rapturous, the four of us later sat naked on the grassy field and talked into the night, speaking of things fathers and sons rarely confided. The night was warm, the air still. We watched the sun rise over the Adirondacks and slept most of the day.

Sean and I hiked and wrestled every day after that until it was time to return home. My tales about my previous summers in San Diego brought some laughter around the table, too. Sean praised me warmly for fighting back. "But this man's got lots of fight in him," he said with a smirk.

Sean and I sealed our bond as our fathers had years before. When it was time to leave our parting was hard and while we dreaded being separated we knew our connection was strong. Together we had done more than make fanatasies into flesh. We had together wrestled our way out of the darkness of secrets on that hot July night.

Less than a year later my parents divorced and Dad accepted Greg's offer to be a partner in his carpentry business, meaning he was moving back to the Adirondacks. I went with him.

Sean and I stripped naked and wrestled the moment I arrived.


In addition to his warm fantasies of adolescence, warrior Vic Logan has also contributed his thoughts about warrior brotherhood and the buttfuck tyranny to A Celebration of Life in Warriors Speak. Be sure to check out what this wise, thoughtful cockrub warrior bear has to tell us.

And to read the other three stories in this series, return to Warrior Fiction Home .

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