One of the first lessons I learned when I embraced a gay lifestyle was that preconceived philosophies were a waste of time. Many gay men seemed to have a list of commandments when it came to sexual encounters. Comments like; too old, too fat, too skinny, too ugly, et cetera, are commonplace notions that get bandied.

Early on, I made the monumental discovery that looks had nothing to do with great sex. Often, when I got blown away by the physical appearance of an individual, a night of boredom awaited me. Conversely, the less remarkable men I had reservations about often turned out to be exceptional lovers. As they say, never judge a book by its cover.

One evening at a gay bar, I got introduced to a gay subculture that would forever change my life. As I sat sipping my beer, a hairy older man sat next to me and struck up a conversation. Willie, the man in question, was a dead ringer for Santa Claus. He had a substantial white beard, and from his arms and the hair popping out from the top of the polo shirt he was wearing, he was very hairy. Although he had a pleasant face, ashamedly, I have to admit, bulky Willie did not ring my bells.

Before long, a posse of similar-looking men entered the bar and swamped us in their bulkiness and fuzziness, and I felt like I was at a Yeti convention. What astonished me most was the affectionate interaction between these bears. A t-shirt that one of these bears was wearing amused me. It stated, ‘Cover me in honey and throw me to the bears.’ 

Most amazingly, they all seemed to have the hots for Willie and constantly pawed at him.

At this point in my life, I had no facial hair. Something I would remedy shortly after that. Nevertheless, have I did have reasonable body hair, which was not on display. What amazed me the most was that although I was reasonably handsome, all the bears were far more interested in hairy Willie, a man at least twenty-five years my senior.

The amusing interlude that followed almost had me splitting a gut. In an attempt to endear me to this ursine enclave, I lifted my shirt to display my substandard hairy stomach. As all the furry faces focussed on me, there was a pause before one of the bulkiest hairy creatures named Bernard made a consolatory comment.

“Well… At least, you have nice eyes!”

At this comment, furry heads all nodded in unison, and I had to restrain myself from bursting out laughing.

As I enjoyed their company, a man named Henri, who seemed fixated on Willie, garnered my attention. Henri was dark-skinned and fuckin’ handsome. Sadly, however, he paid me no attention.

As we continued to interact, an invitation to join this bear club at their cabin began to materialize. These bears had hired a cottage close by on their biker’s weekend and invited us to join them to have snacks from all the leftovers they had from their afternoon barbecue. Honestly, although I believed that the invitation was for Willie, Willie insisted that I be part of the deal.    

Afterward, as we drove behind them in Willie’s vehicle, he made it clear that he was interested in me.

“Don’t you like bears?” I asked.

“Yeah, they are okay… But I find you more appealing,” Willie announced.

Excited as I was, having sex with Father Christmas was not exactly what I had in mind. All I could think about was Henri.

Their cabin was spectacular, and soon we were guzzling leftovers from their barbecue.

Shortly, ABBA was playing on the stereo as lusty bears began to grind against one another in the lounge. There were no attitudes, just a symbiotic pursuit of pleasure from the ursine clan. During our scoffing and grinding, Willie began to make it abundantly clear that he was interested in me. I am not sure that Henri was like-minded, but to my delight, Henri and Willie soon parenthesized my body in a sensual manner. As we watched groups form and go about their lascivious pleasures, my body got denuded by Willie and Henri.

As our oral extravaganza got underway, with two hairy mouths assaulting me from either side, I was in seventh heaven. Both men had thick uncut knobs after they removed their clothing. I was elated, as Henri now also seemed taken with me.  

“You must grow a beard,” Henri soon murmured in my ear as two hairy hot mouths traversed my features.

Willie now took control, and soon Henri was sitting, with me blowing his dick, as Willie began to plow my arse leisurely.

‘What a night, what a fuckin’ night,’ my brain intoned.

As Henri kept my head locked on his dick, Willie eventually unloaded into me several minutes later as Henri passionately kissed me.

After Willie let go of my hips, he announced, “Come on, boys, we’ve got a cum-dump that needs initiation.”

One bear after the next, my hole now got stuffed and filled. It was glorious! With spunk cascading down the inside of my thighs, “This cub is needs jizz,” became the mantra for these lusty bears.

Afterward, as we all lay on the carpet in a mass of post-coital bliss, to my horror, the bulkiest of the bears arrived late. Wouter, the tardy bear was the size of a titan. When he scanned the bodies on the shaggy rug, to my horror, his huge paw then extended toward me as he commanded me to get up. When I looked at his fat lips, bulbous body, and obscenely large nose, my heart began to beat abnormally. His gargantuan hand enclosed on the back of my neck before propelling me toward a bedroom. I felt like a teddy bear that he had just won at a funfair, as my body got commandeered effortlessly by this Saskatchewan monster before I got deposited on the bed.

In a gravelly voice, he announced, “I am gonna fuck you, baby.”

In keeping with his physique, he had a dick that looked like a baseball bat. Although my arsehole was well primed, I knew that I was about to get the fucking of my life. After my legs got lifted, my arsehole gaped as the dick of death slammed into me. It was the most exquisite pain I had ever experienced. The battering I took was breathtaking as my arse got mercilessly pounded for several minutes. The most exhilarating aspect of Wouter’s machinations was the divine heaviness of his huge hairy body. That night, three more sessions with Wouter followed until I was completely exhausted.     

The following week my razor got relegated to obscurity, and today, I could effortlessly join ZZ Top.

Not only have I become a honey badger, but Wouter has also become my daddy.