FSE

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“Wipe those fuckin' tears, boy, or you ain't hittin' shit." Dad throws an oil-soaked rag at me.

“It's dirty, I–"

“Then use your fuckin' shirt, Jesus!" He swigs his beer.

“Yes sir." I croak, nearly falling when he shoves a light .22 caliber rifle into my arms. It's smaller than most rifles, sleek, and with a treated wood finish. Perfect for learning to shoot on, had I wanted to learn to shoot at all.

Groves is engraved on the butt, like most of the guns my father keeps. This one has been in our family for generations. I anxiously run my fingers along the smooth shiny wood. My heart stops when I touch the cold iron barrel.

“Stand there and aim." He stands next to me and scowls. “Wes, I know you can do better than that."

I whimper as he roughly adjusts my posture.

“Calm down, fuckin' hell, I'm just tryin' to get your stance right." He steps back after a few more adjustments. “See, that wasn't so hard was it?"

“N-no, sir." I curse how pathetic I sound.

His beard rubs against my neck when he stands behind me. “Alright. Hold the butt against your shoulder, it'll kick but if you hold it right it won't hurt."

I do as he says and raise the rifle. “L-like this?"

“Stop stutterin'." I can smell the beer on his breath.

“Yes sir." My heart pounds.

“See those bottles?" He points to five brown or green glass bottles of beer sitting on the hood and roof of a hollow rusted shell of an old car.

I nod.

“We ain't leavin' till you can get five of 'em all in one go." He nods at the cardboard box full of filthy glass bottles.

“What If I can't–"

“We ain't leavin' till you can." His tone leaves no room for discussion.

I breathe deep and focus, adjusting the rifle slightly to ensure it's properly braced.

“Good, that's good, Wesley."

My hands tremble as a finger curls around the trigger, it's cold.

“Do it."

“I–What If I miss–"

“Shut the fuck up, boy. Do it."

I bite my lip and squeeze the tears from my eyes. Once again I have to adjust my aim and steady my breathing.

Inhale.

The bottle gleams in the distance.

Hold.

Pull.

---

---

My eyes snap open to darkness. I lay there quietly trying to figure out what time it is without moving. Is it still dark? How long have I–why is my bed so soft and… furry? I groan into my pillow and absentmindedly hump the plump and bizarrely warm cushions.

“Mornin' sunshine." Jim yawns and grinds his rear into me.

Shit. “Morning." I slide away from the warmth and softness of the grizzly laying next to me and find myself missing it right away.

Jim rolls over and winks. “Wesley Groves, you sun uva bitch!"

“What?" I try to recall everything that happened the previous night, but all I remember is a lot of drinking and a particularly intense kiss.

“My Pa's gonna kill you, that's for sure," Jim adds.

“What?!"

“Yep, you was tryin' to get me pregnant!" He says. “Didn't even make me breakfast or nothin'!"

“Uh. I–Wait–" I stammer.

“Relax, Wes, we didn't do nothin' sides makin' out." Jim adjusts his hard-on. “Damn near came in my britches."

It was the only thing I really remember from the previous night, that and showing off my abs and rubbing my dick in front of him. Ugh, gross. “Thanks?"

“I'm the one who should be thankin' you, Wes. Honest." Jim slides closer to me and places a paw on my chest. “Felt great gettin' all that out and, uhm, I was wonderin'..." His paw slides toward my crotch. “Now that we're both sober…"

I watch his paw approach my cock and pause just before reaching my briefs. I grab his wrist. “Jim, I don't know if this is a good idea."

“Why the hell not? We're sober, we're men, why not have some fun?" He runs a paw up my arm and squeezes my bicep.

“I don't want you getting the wrong idea–"

“I ain't tryin' to date you, Wes." His other paw gropes my pecs. “Sexy fucker…"

“Then what?" I ask.

“Now whose dumb? I don't see why can't have a bit'o fun while you're here."

I lay back and think as the bear feels me up. Bits and pieces of last night come back. Kissing, flirting, how sad he looked when I stopped. He might be more fucked up than me, so desperate to be touched that he throws himself at the first option. Me.

“Wesley?" He rolls over on top of me, bringing his maw close to my lips. “Can't we just… have fun?"

Fuck it. I'm horny and hungover, he's horny and lonely. No harm in a bit of fun. I always overthink shit like this, and planning the funeral and the sale of the house and all this other bullshit has fried my brain. Fuck it! I need to get off, bad.

I place a hand on the back of his neck and kiss him. I drive my hips upward, nesting my hard cock between his cheeks, leaving only our underwear between us. Jim leans into my kiss and reaches back to grab my meat.

“Holy fuck, you got a permit for this?!" He asks when he pulls my dick from my worn grey undergarments.

I wink back. “Don't worry Jim, I know how to use it if that's what you're wondering."

He gently tugs at it. “H-how big is it?"

“About nine-ish." I always loved when big men saw it for the first time. Jim, like most of them, drools and stares open-mouthed. I scratch behind his ears. “Go on, Jim."

He lowers himself and comes face to face with my long pink shaft. The tip is already oozing a bit of precum in anticipation. He looks up at me, nervous. “I'm not sure I can take this thing."

“Just go and get familiar with it, Jim."

Jim inches his face closer, his snout nearly touching the fat pink tip. He strokes the long shaft, his big paw easily able to hold the impressive length. He slowly lowers his mouth onto my cock.

I hump into his mouth, making him gag.

“Fuck, Wes! I ain't do this very often." He wipes spit from his muzzle.

“Well, get practicing." I fuck his paw to emphasize the point.

“Y-yessir." He drags his tongue along the base of my shaft up to the tip. His licks start cautiously but become faster and more eager. The warmth of his spit and the softness of his paw earns him a few precious drops of pre-cum that he happily licks up.

“Stick your ass out," I order. “And stop licking, start sucking."

Jim lowers his maw onto my cock and I allow him to take it at his own pace. He slowly takes more and more of me into his mouth. His inexperience is obvious and I grimace every time a tooth grazes the sensitive flesh.

He's still wearing his tight white briefs, his tail sticks out just above the fabric. I place a hand on the back of his head and scratch his ears while I admire his fat ass. Each cheek is pleasantly round and soft, and I imagine what it'll look like with my big cock slamming in and out of his virgin hole.

The thought of fucking him, breeding him, and owning his ass makes up for his poor performance. I start pushing his head down onto my cock while I lick my lips and think of the things I could do to that gorgeous, soft, round ass. How his balls would bounce underneath him as I fucked his brains out, I think about the way he'd be begging me for it.

“Good job, Jim." I run my fingers through his soft and messy morning fur.

“Mmmm." He bobs. I notice his hard-on twitch at my praise.

“Use one paw to play with my nuts." I see his underwear strain once more against his own manhood. He likes it when I tell him what to do. Good. I gently buck my hips upward to meet his hungry mouth and allow him easier access to play with my sack.

“Keep it up, I'll feed you," I say.

My thrusts become faster, every time he pulls his mouth up I thrust back into it, giving him barely anytime between them and ensuring my cock is always spit-slick and in his warm maw.

He isn't very good at this, but it's hot as fuck watching him struggle on my cock. It's hot as fuck seeing just how badly he wants my cock. He's trying to dive deeper and deeper onto it because he wants to please me. That alone is enough to get me there.

I press his head down on my cock and he gags. “Swallow!"

Jim whines as I continue to fuck my load into his gullet, his nose is buried in my thin tangle of pubic hair. One of his paws clumsily releases his own cock and I watch in awe as he cums just from getting facefucked. His fat pink meat is shorter than mine but much thicker. It sprays onto the bed, filling the air with the scent of lust.

His balls hang impressively low and swing gently as he cums. I scratch behind his ears to reward him for his enthusiastic performance. Seeing him climax from pleasuring me only added to my orgasm, and Jim dutifully swallows every drop.

“Good boy," I say, breathless.

Jim crawls up the bed and lays his head on my chest. “Fuckin' hell."

I cradle the big bear under my arm.

“Best dick I ever sucked, Wes."

“You suck a lot of dicks, Jim?" I tease and continue to massage between his ears.

“Not really, maybe a couple of times a year. Not a lot of options out here."

“I'm in town for at least a week, I could use some help getting everything packed up." I pull him closer. “You can come around anytime."

He buries his face in my neck and nuzzles me. “I like this."

“I could tell, you were into it."

“I like the cuddlin', I mean. Guys here don't really stick around for it." He says. “Can we just do this for a bit?"

“Of course," I reply. He lays one arm across my chest and hugs me close.

“Thank you." He says so quietly I'm not sure if he really said it.

In my post-orgasm state, I begin to register the severity of my hangover. A headache threatens and my stomach twists with nausea or maybe guilt. The comfort of Jim's warmth next to me helps keep the feelings at bay.

I rub his back and kiss the top of his head. Twenty-four hours ago I would have sooner shot Jim than kissed him, but now here he is with my load in his belly and falling asleep on my chest. This still feels like a mistake.

I try to focus on what it is that I'm feeling, that same feeling that eluded description last night while we kissed. I feel angry, guilty, hurt, tired, and…alone. I know Jim feels alone, too. I remember the first time someone touched me this way. The first time someone made me feel wanted.

Seeing him like this I can't be mad at him. Maybe I never was, maybe it was always that I felt sorry for him. Sorry that he felt forced to abandon his friend, his hobbies, and who knows what else, just so he could fit in with the other “Good Ol' Boys". Sorry, he had to be here and deal with this alone.

I kiss the top of his head and dig my fingers into the soft fur between his shoulder blades and hope that I'm doing the right thing, that I'm not going to fuck Jim up.

“S'nice…" He says into my neck.

“You want to shower with me, Jim?"

“Ten more minutes?" Jim asks as he sniffs my neck. The man in my arms is different from the one I had expected to see when I came back here. I can't muster the anger or loathing to deny him.

“Ten more minutes." I agree. He deserves at least that.