Bearotica: Hot & Hairy Fiction by R. Jackson

Author:R. Jackson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay bear, masculine men, homomasculinity, homomasculine, erotica, short stories, m2m, manlove, queer, gay, homosexual
ISBN: 978-1-59021-108-3
Publisher: Bear Bones Books imprint
Published: 2007-05-25T04:00:00+00:00

Eric Karnowski makes his living developing materials for mathematics education. His short story, “Traffic Signs,” appeared in Harrington Gay Men’s Fiction Quarterly. A longtime admirer of bears, he lives in Boston with his thin but furry partner.

Bubbacious

Jojo

I still feel like I’m walking stiff-legged from all the exertion, but I’m at least warm all over. I’m jumping ahead of myself. I was out in East Texas a few weeks back to pick up some stone for some stuff outdoors I was building, and coming home my truck was making funny sounds — maybe a cracked bearing, and in any case it was time to stop. There I was, in the middle of flat, hot nowhere and came alongside a wrecking yard, and pulled off the road in a cloud of dirt, and went on in. The guy behind the counter was a real tasty number — 6’5”, big ole head, shoulders wide enough for a couch, muscles even on his fingers. He hadn’t shaved in a few months, and the dirt and heat covered him with a fine sheen, and he looked up with big brown cow-eyes and asked if he could help out. I thought how, but asked if someone could take a look at my truck. He turned away from the counter and yelled out back, and I saw how monstrous his legs and butt was, big shitkickin’ boots, and how his arms flexed under a thick layer of fur. Well, more like carpet — he even had a ring of hair poking out around his cut-off tee-shirt sleeves, and back of his head was another ruff poking out. Two more Bubbas came out, one bald as a cueball with a pointy head, very short, and even wider than his buddy, and another more my size, but nasty curly red hair he just couldn’t get control of. My size, that is, about 5’10”, 250, can squat 400 and bench 300, muscles on muscles if you know what I mean. The three took a look at me, also all sweaty in a tank top, my blond hair and beard all over the place. They looked, but it wasn’t just curiosity.

I kicked back in a chair while they checked out my truck, and talked a bit to Bubba — where did you guys work out here in the middle of the country? They had a gym out back they had made out of old wrecks, he said, and it was just about time for a workout. He said that with a sleazy grin, gaps in his white teeth, and a big tongue that would hang out just a little bit. He leaned out the door and yelled at the other guys again, and when they came back in, grins on their faces, I was still reeling from the sight of him out from behind the counter.

Now there are different kind of big guys. Some are plain old overweight, some are big-boned but not much meat, and some are lots of pretty muscles but look breakable.

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