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The Mage and the Bear

By: maulkin



My name's Tamerlane, but most people in the know called me Tam. I was one of few functioning mages in the New England area. I didn't advertise it, because I didn't live on it. I worked as a typical office drone in a Fortune 500 company. Boring, but paid the bills. Everyone there knew I was gay. They also knew that outside of work, I was a huge and harmless flirt. 

My real name is Tom, so the two nicknames aren't so dissimilar. It was a normal day at the office, and I was heading over to the entrance, when I saw a man standing there. I stopped and gaped, hoping he hadn't seen me. He stood an easy six and a half feet, with short-cropped auburn hair. His suit looked too tight on his broad shoulders, that if he moved his arms forward his jacket would split in the back. I looked downward to his legs, not quite so noticeable as the jacket, but I was sure was just as muscular. His butt was probably as hard as steel.

He turned around and saw me standing there. I saw him smile, and he said, "Hey, can you let me in?" Even his voice was like whiskey-drenched silk.

I got closer, trying not to stare at the chest that stretched his shirt. I looked up at his face, but that didn't help, as he had the most beautiful hazel eyes I had ever seen. I swallowed, and pulled on my badge, which was attached to a flexible nylon thread, like a reel. I showed it to the electric eye that read the bar code, and heard the lock snick open. 

"Thanks, bro," he said, holding the now open door for me. I went in, kind of ducking my head. "I'm looking for Mr. Ceasar?"

This distracted me from oggling him. "Oh, third floor, take a right. Just ask the HR secretary."

"Great, thanks." He smiled. "Hope to see you around sometime."

"Uh huh," I could only say.

I watched him walk up the stairs. Yep, a nice hard ass.

I usually ate lunch alone in the cafeteria, wrapped up in the latest literary novel. I heard his voice, "Nice caff." I looked up and saw him with the Account Managers. I smiled to myself, figures he was hired for them. That department was always hiring because of its high-turnover. Being a liaison between crotchety old clients and the company itself easily took the toll out of anyone. I watched him from under my book.

They gossiped about people, and different departments. My department, IT, was notorious for being slow, as all IT departments usually are. My position wasn't actual coding, but more like support and testing. Oh, and I was often called in to assist when things got catastrophic. Why not, I had no life. I overheard what they were saying, and, to be honest, I didn't really care because a lot of it was true. Maggie, one of our techs, was a bitch; Ally was an airhead, and me..."Tom's a faggot," said Jim. "A real faggot."

"Ah," said the big guy as if that explained everything. 

I tucked my head back into my book.

I saw him a couple of times, passing in the hallway, or at lunch. He'd say hi to me in the hallway but wouldn't acknowledge me in the lunch room. Thirsty Thursday came around and a few of us started making plans to hit Mulligan's, what passed for the usual Irish bar in this part of town. We reserved our table for eight, and at five o'clock, we all headed over there. 

I grinned and winked at Peter, getting right into the gay guy persona. Peter chuckled, knowing that I wasn't serious. I never was with this crew. I was having a good time play-flirting with the straight guys and drinking beer. I got up to head to the bathroom, and I saw the big guy from the office sitting at the bar.

I hadn't noticed him because he wasn't in a suit. He was in a tight-fitting "Black Dog" t-shirt and black tight jeans. He was drinking what looked like a simple golden beer and he saw me staring. "Looks like you guys are having fun over there," he said. "Can I join you?"

I looked over at the crew. People from AM had shown up before, it wouldn't be weird. But, then, I'd have to tone down the flirtation to a bare minimum, because who knew what this guy was like? "Sure, gimme a sec." I went into the bathroom to return my deposit, and then back to the bar. He was standing there, waiting for me. He had thick, hairy arms, and even now the beginnings of a five-o'clock shadow. He was so...down, boy, down.

We headed back to the table. "Hey, guys, this is..."

"Roger Marlane," he said, and smiled a disarming smile. The three women at the table stared up at him, and watched as he easily hooked a chair from another table and sat down with us.

"Where have you been hiding, Roger?" asked George.

"I'm in Account Management. It's my first week."

Then along came the conversation about how did he like it so far, what was the gossip, etc. I quietly drank my drink, letting a few innuendos slide. A couple of people noticed. Peter finally said, "Hey, Tom, cat got your tongue?"

"Huh?"

Peter smiled and tilted his head to Roger. "You haven't tried to come onto him yet."

I blushed, I couldn't help it. Roger turned his full attention to me. "Is that so?" he said with a smile, and then he crossed his arms. "And why not?"

Because I'd be meaning everything I said, I wanted to say. I wanted to get in this big, buff, hairy man's pants so bad. The proximity already was making my dick press against my khakis. If I stood up, it would be an embarrassing moment. So, in answer to their question, I shook my head. "I dunno." I fought to get my cock down, thinking of anything but this man sitting next to me. I needed to leave, but fast.

"Tom, you're really funny when you do that," said Ally. "Go on."

"It's cuz he likes him," said Maggie with a hint of disgust.

All the blood in my body ran to my face. I could see Roger out of the corner of his eye, looking at me with a hint of amusement on his face. Since all my blood rushed to my face, that left none for my cock, so I got up, threw my money on the table and muttered a "See you tomorrow."

The next day, I had just walked in, not even getting my coat off, when there was a gentle knock on the doorframe of my cubicle. I looked up to see Roger there. I think I blushed, because I turned away from him instantly. "Hi," I said.

"Hey," he replied. "Look, about last night..."

I shook my head. "Doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does. Was she right? Your friend?"

I took a deep breath and turned around to face him. "I find you attractive, yes."

He smiled. God, what a smile. "I'm flattered, really I am."

"Yeah, well," I looked down and focused on the Transformers littering my desk. "Doesn't matter anyway. You're probably married or got a girlfriend."

"Nope, unattached," he said. He stepped further into the cubie. "Will you have dinner with me tonight, Tom?"

I know I whirled my head to face him. I think my jaw hit the floor. His eyes sparkled with amusement, and maybe something else. 

"I'll take it as a yes. I'll see you after work."

As he walked away, I picked my jaw up off the floor. Was that a dream?

He didn't go to lunch in the caff - AM people usually went out to lunch on paydays. I went back to work, studying the clock every ten minutes until five. When that inaudible whistle blew, I was the first out the door. I waited near the employee entrance.

He wasn't long, and he came out alone. He smiled at me, and that smile was all for me. "Where to?"

"99's good." I had been practicing that line for hours.

"So it is. I'll meet you there."

On the way there, I had time to think up conversational questions that wouldn't get me in trouble. Where are you from? Got any family? What brings you to New Haven? Can I sleep with you? Nope, that one was out.

We got to 99, and I was very proud of myself for one, not drinking myself into saying stupid things, and two, keeping up a purely adult - and straight - conversation. Dinner was done, and we were sitting at the table, the check between us (I demanded to pay half, and after a small argument, he acquiesced), and we were looking at each other, waiting for who would make the first move to the next stage. I said, "You want to--" just as he said it at the same time. We both chuckled, and then I recovered first. "...go to my place for a nightcap?"

"I'd be happy to."

We both knew where this was going, as we headed out into the parking lot. Still keeping up appearances, we went to our cars and headed to my place, about a half an hour away from there. I lived in a large apartment that took up the entire second floor of an old Victorian. 

I led him up to my place and flicked on the lights. I decorate my home very simply except the kitchen, where it had all the modern conveniences that any cook could ever want. Cooking relaxes me after doing work, and it takes up the residual energy that I might have generated. "Come on in, can I get you anything?"

"Just water," he said, looking around. "Nice place." He headed to the large open room that was probably a parlor in its day, but I had cleared out of almost all furniture except for some cabinets with my magical items, that looked pretty mundane to normal eyes. 

Before he could get too far into that room, I handed him his water and said, "Let me show you around the place."

I took him through the eight-room apartment, and then lastly showed him my bedroom. It wasn't much, honestly. I hadn't made the bed, either. "It's very nice," he said, and he was standing so close to me, I could feel his heat. Then, finally, he put his arms around me, and pulled me to him. I sighed, and praised God and all His angels.

He bent his head and kissed the back of my neck, and I closed my eyes. He kept on kissing, to my ear, and he kissed my earlobe. I turned around in his arms, because I hate the neck-breaker kiss, and I looked up at him. Our lips met, and it was all over.

His hands ran up and down my back as we kissed, and I wasted no time - I wanted his skin against mine. I pulled out his shirt tails and tucked my hand underneath - he was hairy there, too. We came up for air. We started to undress each other - he pulled my shirt up over my head. He regarded me, smiling. "Need to put a little meat on your bones," he said, and kissed me to show it really wasn't that big a deal. While being kissed, I finished unbuttoning his shirt, and felt the fur that was his chest. I kneaded my fingers in the hair, loving the wiry softness of it, and I found his nipples. I palmed them bringing them up to hard little nubs.

He ground his crotch against my stomach - he was a little taller than me - and I moaned into the kiss. He broke off and looked at me. "Like that?"

"Yeah...I want it."

"Oh, you'll get it," he said, and started unbuttoning his belt. I pushed his hands away, got to my knees, and finished unbuckling him. I wanted a first-hand look at this.

I unbuttoned the button, and slowly zipped down the khakis. The monster that pressed against his pants was huge. As I unzipped him, I squeezed him with my other hand, and heard him moan. I parted his pants, like a flower, and pushed them down. I helped him step out of those and his socks. 

He stood in boxers, a wet stain on the upper left. I leaned forward and mouthed his cock through his boxers. He moaned and said, "Jesus, stop teasing!"

Finally, I peeled away the boxers. I was not disappointed. His cock sprang up, hitting me in the face. At least a good ten inches long, and four inches wide. I smiled, and licked the head, smearing my saliva and tasting the salty musk of his precum. 

He pulled on my head, trying to pull me up. A little confused, I stood up. He kissed me hard. "No," he said, his voice deep and husky. "I'm gonna fuck you."

I couldn't get out of my pants fast enough. I stood before him, naked. He looked at me, and said in that deep voice again, "Yeah, we need to fill you out."

"Let me get my condoms fi--"

"Got some," he said. "Get on the bed."

I got on it, lying on my back. "No," he said, stroking that huge piece of meat. "Turn over."

I did, a little smile on my face. I hadn't taken it this way in a long time. I felt the bed creak as he put his weight on it - was he heavier, and bigger? I felt his cock rest against the crack of my ass. I heard the tear of paper, and waited patiently. "Dude, I got lube over here--"

He pointed the head of his cock right against my relatively virgin hole, since it had been a few months. He was going to impale me, without any lube, without anything? Shit, this was gonna hurt.

And it did. I screamed at the pain as he forced something the size of what felt like a baseball in through my hole. He rubbed my back, and said, "It's okay, baby, I'm going slow." His voice held a growl under it, like he was barely keeping himself from pounding the shit out of me. Slowly, he pressed inside me, and slowly, I felt more and more full. I relaxed into it, moaning loudly as he kept pushing. Finally, I felt his body against my ass, his hair tickling my ass. I didn't think he had that much hair, but it didn't matter. I went to turn around to look, but he pressed my head against the pillow. 

Then he wrapped his huge hand around my little seven-incher, and pulled out of me as he started to stroke me. He concentrated mostly on stroking me, and his hand was so warm, and big. He kept me impaled on him while his other hand found my balls and started handling those. That was enough - with a cry, I came, all over my sheets. As I regained my breath, he put his hands on my waist and held me up. Then he began stroking, long, deep, leisurely strokes, as if he had all the time in the world. His grunts were deep, loud, animalistic. He rubbed my back, my sides, came around and kneaded what could be called my pecs, and he tweaked my nipples. And as he kept going, I was getting hard again.

He didn't seem like he was going to stop, and I looked down from underneath us. His huge balls were covered in a fine black hair, and were swinging as he moved, and I wanted to suck on them so badly. I saw his thighs - was it me, or was he even hairier than he was before?

He thrust harder, and a pleasurable pain shot through me, right to my dick. I moved my hand back to take care of it, but he slapped my hand away and took it in his again. "Oh God," I finally moaned, when he grabbed my cock and stroked it again. This time, his strokes were getting deeper, his grunts getting louder. 

"Cum inside me," I cried. "Fuck me harder, fill me!"

He instead stroked my cock harder and faster, and I finally raised my head and cried out. Damn, that one would have blacked me out, if I hadn't felt him thrust so deep I thought it was going to come out of my nose. Then he roared. Not like a man, but like a beast, a lion over a conquest. My eyes snapped open at the sound, and I froze, though my ass spasmed around his cock anyway. I slowly turned my head around, to get a good look at him.

Roger was covered in thick black fur. His face was human for the most part, but he had a thick beard and what looked like downy fur all over his face. His eyes were closed in pure ecstasy as he was still buried in me. He slowly started to open his eyes, and I looked away quickly, my face in the pillow.

With another grunt, he pulled himself out of me. "Roger?" I called, and looked back. Sure enough, he was absolutely covered in hair, almost fur. 

He was walking out of my bedroom. "Not now," he growled.

I turned over, avoiding the wet spot, and rolled out of bed. I heard the water running in the bathroom, so I headed there. The door was closed and locked. "Roger, are you okay in there?"

"Not now," he growled again, more insistently.

"Roger," I said, "I saw you."

"What?"

"I saw you, covered in fur."

Finally, he opened the door. He looked like he did when I first got his clothes off, hairy, but not furry. "You saw me."

"Yes."

He looked down. "I'm sorry I scared you."

"You didn't scare me, but it came as a shock. Want to tell me about it?"

"You wouldn't believe me."

I smirked at him, and took his hand. "Try me," I said, leading him back to the bedroom.

The Mage and the Bear Ch. 02



2.

Roger sat down at the edge of my bed, looking embarrassed but relieved. "I am a Son of Arcas."

Arcas, Arcas...it took a while for the little rabbit in my brain to come up with the reference. A son of Callisto, he mistakenly killed his mother when she got changed into a bear by a jealous Hera. Zeus placed them both in the sky as Ursa Major and Ursa Minor – also known as the Big and Little Dipper. 

I looked sideways at him. "A werebear?"

He winced. "I really don't like that term."

"But you guys are extinct."

"Not extinct, just underground."

I passed my hand through my hair, what I usually do when I send the little rabbit searching through my magical knowledge in my head to find out about thing. Werebears didn't turn into bears at the full moon, I knew that much. 

"I don't see what's wrong with that."

He stared at me. "You don't? Are you kidding? I could tear you apart if I don't keep a hold on it! I can't change into a full bear – I have no control."

"Says who?"

He blinked. "What?"

I relied on my more extensive knowledge of his cousin, the werewolf. Someday I'll have to tell you that story. "Werewolves can control themselves perfectly. They have a sense of self when they change."

"Have you ever heard of the word 'berserker'? Where do you think that word comes from?"

Now it was my turn to blink in shock. "Oh. Right."

He turned from me and started getting his clothes. "We can't do this."

"Wait, wait." I put a hand on his arm. "Yes, we can. I'm a mage."

"A mage?" He looked me up and down. "How old are you?"

"Mages have nothing to do with age," I snapped. "I'm a witch. Wizard. Sorcerer. Magician." I held up a finger. "Don't say 'warlock' or I'll turn you into a toad."

That got a smile out of him. "I've been to gypsies. And mediums, all that kind of thing. I even went to reiki. This is a curse, Tom. A curse of my blood."

"Come on, let's look at this clinically. Though I can't while we're naked."

"Why not?"

Oh, I thought, and I know I was grinning ear to ear, round two? I coughed. "Well, yes, that gives me an idea." I leaned over and stroked his arm. "You wouldn't let me watch you change. Maybe I can figure things out better if I saw it happen."

He turned his head toward me, and I leaned closer to his face, and kissed his lips. He opened himself up immediately to me and I got closer to him, pressing myself against his arm. He moved that arm, wrapped it around me, and pulled me onto his lap. His cock was half erect, and sandwiched between my erect cock and his abs.

He broke from the kiss, and I continued to kiss down his neck. "I've never...done it...more than once...a night..."

"Always a first time." I got to his nipples and had to sit back in order to lick them, and then bite them. He gasped, and as I expected, his cock was now fully at attention. I smiled, and looked down. It was big, nice, and glistening with plenty of pre. At some point, I wanted to suck that monster down, but I wouldn't be able to see the change if I did right now.

I watched as his hair grew thicker on his chest, right before my eyes. His sideburns grew longer. I moved a hand down and started to stroke him. The moan was still human, though he moved his head back and closed his eyes. 

Shit, I needed a condom. I jumped off him and said, "One sec, buddy!"

He opened his eyes, and I saw them, deep, dark, green. I never ran so fast to my nightstand and back as I did right then. I glanced at the hair on his back; it was almost as thick as that on his chest. I climbed back onto his lap.

I continued to stroke him, watching the hair grow thicker. The hair on his face grew furry, except for his nose and his lips. He seemed to also grow bigger in mass, like his muscles expanded even more. His shoulders were huge. His chest was immense. His cock...Well, it wasn't a baseball. It was a baseball bat.

He opened his eyes and focused deep green eyes at me. "Ride me," he growled.

Oh, I planned on it.

I put the condom on, but it didn't quite cover him. I'd have to be careful with this. Shit, if he had been this big inside me, the condom – I didn't want to contemplate, but I looked around. I saw the remnants of the other condom on the floor. Broken, nearly shredded.

Being that this was probably not the right time to ask him about past relationships, I decided to bite the bullet and take my chances. I took the condom off, and when I did, he moved back on the bed, and he held me by the waist so I slid back with him.  

Then he picked me up, and held me above his throbbing cock. Now I weigh a good 150 soaking wet, so if this guy could pick me up by the waist as easily as he could pick up a six year old, I wondered what kind of strength was bunched up in those muscles. I was trying to think clinically, really, I was.

"Wait, wait, Roger, I'll—"

He thrust me down on his rigid pole. I saw white light and black stars, that's how much pain I was in. And gravity is relentless, as I slid all the way down his pole in one fell swoop. 

I wasn't sure if I passed out or not, but finally the pain subsided, and instead I was feeling him moving inside me. I sure wasn't doing the heavy lifting. I opened my eyes and saw him, his arms moving me up and down on his cock. And, I'll be damned, I was hard as a rock, even through that pain.

Thinking clinically again, since I wasn't doing the work, I looked down at the body in front of me. Definitely covered in a thick, dark brown fur. His face had gotten slightly elongated, which I didn't notice the first time around. I could tell he was holding back, as his body was shuddering beneath me, and his hands, though tight and would leave bruises, squeezed my waist sometimes painfully, as if they could dig right through my flesh.

Then he moved me slightly, hitting my sweet spot, and all was lost. I cried out, I know I did, and shot all over him, cum in his thick pelt. He kept on going, harder, faster, nearly dropping me on him, and as I came back to myself, he roared and came hard in me. Listening to that sound, I didn't feel fear. I felt secure. 

Then, he let me go, and I fell hard on my knees, him still inside me. I almost fell forward, but didn't want to smear all that cum all over him and me. Call me a clean freak, but when you do magic, you learn the Boy Scout rule of camping to leave the place just like you found it.

I looked down at my bear. He had fallen asleep. How could I tell? He snored. And as he snored, the fur disappeared, fading into him like time-lapsed photography of grass growing in reverse.

I got off of him, and went to get a towel. At least he had fallen asleep on the wet spot.



The Mage and the Bear Ch. 03



3.

I awoke to pounding on my door. I swore. A lot. Roger was still asleep under me, his hair normal -- I guess he didn't change while he slept. I saw that he didn't change because of just a hard-on, since I could see the tent under the blankets.

Noting these things -- hey, they could be important! -- I pulled on my pajama pants that were folded neatly on a chair in my bedroom, and went to the door bawling, "For the love of Pete, I'm coming!"

The pounding stopped. I threw the door open. Standing there was a petite woman, about twenty-five, her hair French braided down her head, and I knew it would reach almost to her butt. "Tam, I need you," she said, shoving by me into the kitchen.

"That's what they all say, Nettie," I replied. "Let me go to the bathroom and then you can tell me your newest crisis."

"You think it's funny?"

I waved my hand at her and went to the bathroom. After finishing that up, I was wiping my hands on the towel when I felt someone cross magical barriers. I was connected to that magic room; if someone walked in there, I knew it.

It was probably Nettie -- she had a habit of wandering around my place like she owned it. I heard her say, "Hello," and then Roger respond, "Hello." I came out of the bathroom seeing Nettie in the kitchen. If she was in the kitchen -- 

"Roger, get out of there!" Roger, wearing just his jeans, was in my magical room. Who knew what would happen to him, being a magical creature himself. He was half-way into the room. He hadn't crossed into the Circle, nor seen my cabinet of magical implements. A deer's hoof was just a sample of the weird and odd items in that cabinet.

He backed out, a look of fear on his face. "Sorry."

I took a deep breath. "I didn't mean to panic. It's just that I didn't want you to trip on anything."

He looked at the floor, which was bare wood. Then he looked up at me. I turned from him with a sort of shrug and looked at Nettie. "All right, what is it?"

"The monster is back."

"Your ex-boyfriend?" I asked.

"No, dumbass," she snapped. "The one you destroyed last summer."

Oh, right...that was an easy one. It was a flesh-bound creature, similar to Boris Karloff's Frankenstein, but without the neck bolts. It had been terrorizing a particular funeral parlor -- why, I had no idea, and still don't. By word of mouth, I got on the case and took the beastie out before the funeral guys even knew I was there. White-out can indeed break spells.

"Same one? Same M.O?"

"It's not at Heffeneferen's. It's digging up graves."

I laughed. "Digging up graves?"

Again, she eyed me. "It dug up my grandmother's grave!"

"Nettie...there's a concrete vault under the dirt. Inside that concrete vault are the coffins. It would have had to go through the dirt at least five feet, and then lifted a concrete lid that was at least a foot thick."

"Don't believe me?" She glared at me. "Come with me to Swan Point."

I looked at Roger. I looked at Nettie. I thought about how I would much rather spend my day -- going around a graveyard, or in bed with Roger. Man, it was tempting...

"Let's go," said Roger.

I turned around to Roger. "Excuse me? Who said I wanted to go anywhere?"

Roger smiled. "I like graveyards. Is this one old?"

"One of the oldest -- and prettiest -- in the state," said Nettie. "My family has a plot there."

Roger headed back to the bedroom, presumably to get dressed. I glared at Nettie. "Thanks for ruining a perfectly good day of 'around the world in bed.'"

"Jesus, you have plenty of time to get tail. I'll meet you at my car in ten."

"Ten minutes! I haven't had coff—"

She was already out the door.

"...ffee..." Shrugging, I headed into my bedroom. 

Roger was standing at the side of my bed, holding his shirt at his abdomen, looking thoughtful. "What -- what happened last night?"

"You don't remember anything?" Don't tell me I was going to deal with "50 First Dates".

"I remember making love to you. Twice." He looked me up and down. "I must have been in some semblance of control, since you're not mauled."

The way he looked at me, studying me, got me all hot and bothered again. We had...eight minutes. How much can we do in eight minutes? He then focused on my groin, of which I was showing his appreciation of his appreciation of me. And then he was showing his appreciation of my appreciation...

He was on me in a flash, kissing me madly, his hand in my briefs. Six minutes. He went to his knees immediately, and took me quickly in his mouth. I cast my head back -- God, it was heaven. His warm mouth around my cock, his tongue licking the head, his hands grasping my hips. He took me all the way down to the root, going down his throat. His tongue lashed my underside, hitting the vein here and there and both teasing and stimulating me at the same time.

Then he started to suck me, and I tried not to thrust into him, but couldn't help myself once or twice. He moved with me, easily taking all of me down with each thrust. I felt it boiling up from down below -- I honestly didn't think I had any more in me. "Rog...Roger..." I tapped his head to warn him.

He kept on sucking, which turned me on even more and then I yelled, thrusting forward. He took me with a grunt and swallowed the first couple of shots. He wrapped his hand around my cock and held on for the rest. I stumbled, and would have fallen back if he wasn't holding onto me like a handle.

I looked down at him, and he was looking up at me, his tongue licking his lips. He slowly rose to his feet, and I took his head in my hands. I kissed him deeply, tasting myself on him. That didn't bother me; I've used cum as a spell component before. Don't ask.

I glanced at the clock. Five minutes over due.

"Nettie is going to be a little upset," I said, and pulled up my briefs. 

"Fuck her," Roger said, pulling on his shirt.

"Um...I'd rather fuck you."

He turned and smiled at me, tossing my shirt at me. "Oh, don't worry, you will."

I heard a horn beeping insistently. That was our cue.



The Mage and the Bear Ch. 04



4

Swan Point Cemetery was at the north end of Blackstone Boulevard, a very ritzy section of Providence. H.P. Lovecraft is buried in a smaller cemetery just a little further to the north, a stone's throw over the wall in Swan Point.

Nettie brought us toward the family plot but had to stop a couple of small paths away. I could see the crane that was normally used to lift the cover of the vault over a large section of the plots. A group of three angels stood guard over the section that the crane was overseeing. 

Maintenance men -- known in another age as grave-diggers -- were standing around. Nettie parked the car and got out of it. At first I told her not to bother, but I glanced back at Roger. He only shrugged and got out. I was the last one. 

Roger and I walked a little bit behind Nettie. I pulled out what looked like a small stick, about three to four inches long. It was the length of my palm, and I tucked my right index finger on top of it. The index finger is a finger of power, which is why it's used for pointing. It's assumed that if you point, your power would expend from that finger. That was very true.

I tucked my middle finger under the stick and rested my ring finger on top of it. The ring finger is that of Apollo, and would give added power to the index finger. With that, and the measure of my palm, I could sense disturbances at a distance easily.

We got to where one of the maintenance trucks was parked and I jerked to a stop. Nettie kept right on going. She was yelling at them. Roger stopped with me. "What is it?"

What is it? It was a slight disturbance of darkness that felt like colder air. I put my hand into it, and it was like putting my hand into a tub of cool water, that got colder the more I put my hand into it. If the limit of that darkness was here, about maybe twenty feet from the graves, then I could imagine what a chilling feeling it would be for a normal person. Even for mundanes, it would be a sense of "I don't want to stay here."

I walked the perimeter, trying to sense the extent. It bled out toward the north wall, to the other cemetery. Roger stayed close to me, and would put a hand on me to reassure me. Nettie came running over. "Did you find anything, Tam?"

I waved my free hand at her. "Shh." I walked into that cold stream of darkness. 

Roger was right behind me. "Something's wrong here," he said.

"I know," I said, and followed the stream toward the wall. As I did, I looked down. There were indentations in the ground. They looked like a ball and four bars above it. I turned on Nettie. "How long were they dead?"

"Ten, fifteen years?"

I looked at the prints. "These are a skeleton's foot print."

She gasped and stepped back. I moved my hand around, trying to find if there were more footprints. I saw boot tracks, sunk deep into the mud, along with the skeleton. Then I walked sideways, trying to keep those two in sight, before I finally saw the skeleton disappear and just the boots. Before us was a thick layer of thorn bushes, used to discourage wall-jumpers. Papers, Styrofoam, and other urban trash had also been caught in the thorns, as well as clothing.

I used my left hand and grabbed at a piece of yellowish clothing. I unhooked it gingerly from the thorns, and then took in its scent.

Definitely from the grave. I looked around for the boots, but didn't see them anywhere, except just before the thorns. 

Roger watched me, curious. I started thinking out loud, like I did normally when I was alone. It was like a prayer. Sometimes something answered.

"Our necromancer couldn't have jumped over these thorns and the wall, not without help. There's no magic but dark magic, and it's very, very recent, like within the past three days."

"I TOLD you they dug up my grand—"

I held up the yellowed fabric. "Do you remember if she was wearing white when she was buried? And second, she couldn't have decomposed into a skeleton that quickly." I pocketed the material. "I know Hef, his people make damn sure you look all nice and pretty come Judgment Day."

She said nothing. 

"What would your family have? An heirloom. Or one of their members is a witch?"

Nettie looked around. "Not in my immediate family."

Roger asked, "Who else is buried at that grave site?"

"Four generations are buried there. My grandmother was the last one in that plot."

"Then it might not be your grandmother they're after." I held up the fabric. "I'll find out, but if I do, then that necromancer's going to know I'm finding out. If that necromancer's holding that person's soul—"

Nettie asked, "Necromancer?"

"Raiser of dead. Would you rather I refer to dead people in your family walking the earth as zombies and him as a zombie master?"

She bit her lip. "I guess not."

Roger suddenly put his arms around me, wrapping me in a strong embrace. He sighed for a moment. I could smell him, earthy, like the ground before me. I could smell the sea wafting from the east, as Swan Point was just on the banks of the Blackstone River. He seemed to encompass all those smells, and I felt him press his hardness into my back. I was surprised, though I tried not to register it.

As soon as he hugged me, though, I became almost overcome with lust. I wanted him right then and there, even if Nettie was watching me. Roger leaned into me, "I need to get out of here," he whispered huskily.

Nettie glanced at the two of us, then glanced just a little further down the road. She looked at us again and grinned. "You guys got it so fuckin' bad," she said. "I'll meet you on the other side of the wall."

She wasn't even out of line of sight when Roger turned me around in his arms and kissed me hard. "All these smells," he said, and started leading me off the beaten path and deeper into the woods. "I used to sneak away back home and jerk off in the woods." Our eyes scanned the ground for a relatively flat and hidden piece of land, someplace we could stretch out.

He finally found it and stopped, kissing me and thrusting his tongue into my mouth, searching, exploring. God, he was such a good kisser. The world fell away, and only his scent of earthiness and raw, musky sex filled my world. He somehow got our pants off, and was lowering me to the ground. He'd already started getting thicker hair.

"Since you've seen me," he said, "we can do it this way." He knelt at me for a moment, bending down and then taking my cock in his mouth. I groaned, my head lolling back. I looked down at him and saw that he was stroking himself even while he sucked me. God, I wanted to suck him right now.

"Roger," I moaned. "Let me suck you."

He moved his body around without letting go of my cock with his mouth, positioning his hairy body over me. He dripped pre-cum, and I licked that off of him. He growled, not moaned, and sucked me hard. I grabbed him by his ass and pulled him closer, my nose in his hairy balls. He smelled so good, and he kept on sucking me. I was losing myself in him feeling him suck me like a pro, and my mouth was around his cock, but not doing much more than sucking and moaning.

I heard a thump above me, something flat hitting Roger's back.

My eyes snapped open. I heard a low, angry growl from Roger that made his body vibrate. I felt him get up from me. I watched as he moved slowly. He wasn't a full bear, and he wasn't totally hairy like he had been last night. He was just a little thicker than he was normally. He had his back to me, and beyond him was a man with a shovel.

I scrambled up, my pants to my knees and I tried to pull them up. Roger had no pants on, and his shirt was stretched to the breaking point across his back. The man with the shovel held it crossways. "Get back!"

Roger roared and went after the man. I reached over and tried to grab him, but he was way too big, and way too heavy. He grabbed the man's shovel, snapped it in half in front of him, and got in his face, letting out a huge roar. I was relieved to see the man run for his life, not bleeding or suddenly lying there with his throat torn out.

Roger swung his bulk to face me. He was still hard, amazingly enough, and his face looked more like someone hadn't shaven -- everywhere. His blue eyes were dancing with lightning.

He stalked over to me. I will admit, I was scared at first, but he reached down and grabbed me by the shoulders, yanking me to my feet. My pants fell -- trust me, I had nothing to show now -- and then he kissed me. It was sort of like kissing fur, but his kiss wasn't of dominance or anger. It was long, slow, and passionate. I put my arms around him and returned the kiss, and felt his mass deplete, his broad shoulders not be so wide, so hard. When he finally pulled away, he was mostly Roger.

I took a deep breath, my hand trailing down his shirt, no longer stretched to the limit. "Are you okay?" I asked.

"I should ask that about you. I'm sorry I did that."

"We really should talk more, about when exactly you change."

He smiled. "Later, babe."

"Yeah." I pulled up my pants and said, "Right now, we have zombies to catch."



The Mage and the Bear Ch. 05



5. (Sorry, no sex in this one, but is just to move the story along. Sex next time, promise.)

*

Roger was stronger but not as limber as me, so we tried to find a place where the brambles were not so thick. About maybe thirty feet toward the water, I found a part in the stone wall broken, and brambles grown around it. I stepped into the brambles, hissing and muttering, "Ow, ow" as the thorns pricked me. Amazing how tiny thorn pricks hurt, but big ones don't.

Anyway, I cleared that, and watched as Roger followed me, also spitting "Shit, ouch, fuck -- ". He had khakis on as opposed to jeans, so he really wasn't made for this. After clearing the wall, I happened to see Nettie's car park near on the curve before where we had been. 

When we to her I asked, "Are you sure this is the place?"

"Well, while you guys were doing whatever you were doing -- " and she smirked at me -- "I marked off where we were." She pointed into the woods and I could see a white strip of cloth tied to a branch. "Think you can track her?"

I still had the piece of material in my pocket. I could have done the spell to find where the rest of it was -- but then the necromancer would notice if that zombie turned around and suddenly started heading toward me.

"Got an idea," I said, and knelt on the asphalt in front of the car. I took out my Swiss Army knife -- the one that doubled for an athame in a pinch -- and cut a piece of it off. Next, I went in my wallet and took out a small crystal-shaped dark stone -- not iron, hematite -- on a string. I placed the piece of material on top of the hematite and closed my eyes, letting the string move on its own.

When it started swinging is when I opened my eyes. It was swinging deeper into the graveyard. "Let's follow this," I said. "It might take longer but it's not as noticeable."

We walked about ten feet and then I'd stop and do it again. It wasn't until we got to the other side of the driveway loop that the thing took a hard swing to the north -- heading back out the graveyard.

"Damn," I hissed, and took off the piece of fabric. "They left."

"Well, of course they left. Any way we can use that in the car?"

"Unless you want to piss off traffic for driving ten feet and then stopping for a reading."

Said Roger quietly, "Sometimes people return to the scene of the crime."

"This isn't _Murder She Wrote_," I said, and turned back to Nettie. "Does your grandmother have something hidden? Some family legend?"

"Not my grandmother, my grandfather."

I waited, tapping my foot.

"He had something from India. Something some Raj gave him when he was visiting."

"And...?"

"It was gold. But nobody's ever found it."

"Did your grandmother know about it?"

"She told the story."

"So she never found it."

"Well, nobody did."

I asked the last stupid question I could think of. "Did anyone look?"

"I didn't. I don't know. It was a myth. You'd think if it was gold --"

"Our necromancer wants that thing from India and just raised your grandmother to go find it."

"Why didn't he raise my grandfather?"

"Where's he buried?"

"In the Veteran's Cemetery."

"The Vet's Cemetery is too well-guarded," I said, heading back to the car. "Know anyone in your family ruthless enough to want this thing?"

"I don't even know what it is—"

"Let's go see your mom, maybe she knows."

"My mom's not talking to me."

I leaned against the car. "Again?"

"She keeps after me to find a better boyfriend."

"-I- keep after you to find a better boyfriend but I still talk to you."

"Well, she's different."

Meanwhile, Roger was quiet through the entire exchange, a small look of amusement on his face. "What about an uncle, an aunt?" he put in.

"I could see Uncle Blair. He's at Oak Hill right down the street."

I sat in the back of the car. Roger sat in the back with me, putting a hand on my thigh. "Does this happen every weekend?"

"Only when I'm trying to get laid."

Nettie yelled, "If you're too BUSY to do this—"

"No, Nettie, I'll help you."

Roger squeezed my thigh and grinned. "Maybe you should try to get laid more often."



The Mage and the Bear Ch. 06



6.

Uncle Blair thought Nettie was someone named Victoria, that I was her beau, and Roger was a chauffeur. Needless to say, I didn't expect to get much out of him, but he was very happy to see us.

He had an upper-crust English accent, which was something I didn't expect from Nettie's family. But then, if there was a Raj from India involved...damn my sex-crazed, slow brain. We sat calmly drinking tea. Roger stood in the doorway, out of the way.

"Victoria, do sit here. That's a good girl." Blair looked up at me. "He does look rather thin, my dear. I hope the trip was not too tiring for you."

"Uncle Blair," Nettie said, slowly and patiently, "tell me the story of the Raj and my gr-- your brother."

"Story? I don't know anything about a story."

"Shit," I hissed under my breath.

"Alfred had seen the Raj of some temple or other."

I said quietly, "A Raj is a king."

Blair turned to me. "Who's telling this, young man?"

I bit my lip. Roger snorted a chuckle. Blair reached over and took Nettie's hand. "It changed him, my dear. It changed him and made him very unhappy. He lost his dearest wife because of it, and sons."

Nettie opened her mouth to say something but I butted in, "He was married twice?"

"Twice? No, young man, the only woman I know that he was married to was Emma."

Nettie looked confused and Roger said, "I take it that's not your grandmother's name."

Blair was shaking his head, lost in a memory, "Sad, so sad. The war, you know."

"Of course," said Nettie, and patted her uncle's age-freckled bony hand.

He smiled at her. "Who are you again?"

I put the teacup down. "We'd better get going."

Nettie kissed her great-uncle on the cheek and we left the nursing home. As we walked out of the sliding doors, someone hailed Nettie. "Wait! Excuse me, miss, wait."

Nettie stopped, and a young African-American nurse came out. "You've been the only person to visit Mr. Ward in ages. We found something valuable, and we wanted to give it to someone in the family before one of the residents took it upon themselves to take it, but we couldn't get anyone to come down."

"Oh, that's fine, I'll take it," Nettie said.

"Please come and sign for it."

Nettie went back in, and we waited outside. Roger leaned up against the car, and I leaned up against him. One of his hands reached down to the small of my back, and tucked under my waistband. 

Blair. Raja. Temple. Family gold. 

He leaned forward, kissing my neck. "Not helping, Roger." So he thrust his hand down the back of my pants, fingers teasing my crack. I gasped, "So not helping, Roger."

"What can I do to help?" he kissed my neck again, and a finger found my well-abused and sore hole.

"There has to be a connection."

Nettie came back, and Roger pulled his hand out of my pants. We both tried to look innocent. She studied us for a minute, then unlocked the car. "Here," she said, and handed me something.

It was a crystal-shaped item made of gold, flat on the bottom. It was damn heavy, too - solid gold. No wonder they wanted someone from the family to hold onto it.

"I think, after all this," said Roger, "you'd better talk to your mother."

Nettie turned around to look at Roger in the backseat. "Will you be my boyfriend?"

Roger chuckled, and squeezed my thigh. "Sorry, I'm taken."

I grinned. I know I did. His hand moved up my thigh to my crotch, and he started rubbing it. I put my hand on top of his, but he didn't stop and my crotch swelled. 

Nettie had the radio on and was bopping to the music, while I was trying to look nonchalant and keep my breathing even. My cock started to ache, pressed as it was against the zipper of my jeans, leaning ever so slightly to the left.

"You're awful quiet back there," Nettie said, and glanced in the back. Roger gave her a toothy grin, and then she glanced down to see where his hand was. She looked back up at me. "I'll...um..." She turned back to the road. "Yeah."

I didn't know whether or not to take that as it was okay for him to continue, if it was okay for me to start moaning like I really wanted to do, or if it was okay for him to take it out. Roger assumed the last.

"Oh, God," I sighed, and he undid my pants, fishing my soaking wet and hard cock out of my pants.

Nettie looked at me through the rear view mirror. "Wow," she said, "that has got to be the most erotic sound you've ever made."

Roger was stroking me and said, "Want him to make more?"

Nettie was watching me, then watching the road. "Yeah," she said, and it came out as something husky and lustful. "Just keep your seatbelts on. I don't want to get a fine."

I said, "You're worried about a fine when we don't have seatbelts on and here I am with my dick hanging out?"

"It's in my hand," Roger said, his thumb pressing on my vein. A nail scratched my head and I crawled backwards up the back seat. "I'll cover you."

"Jesus, don't do--" He caressed the head, smearing pre everywhere. His thumb played with my slit, and then he started to stroke again. I thrust my hips down on the seat, moaning, no longer looking at Nettie, not caring what was around me. 

"This is so hot," I thought I could hear Nettie say.

Roger was kissing me as the car moved, making my body slide a little to the left. Then, he was sucking me again, and my head was rolling around the back seat. I moaned loudly, not caring if Nettie was in the front seat. I heard nothing but the sounds of my own moans, Roger slurping, and somewhere, from a distance, a higher pitched moan.

"Roger, now...oh, God." I thrust my hips upward, into his mouth and came again. It wasn't as hard as the last time, and part of me wondered where the hell all this cum was coming from.

He lifted his head, and kissed me saying, "I love the taste of you."

"I'm fuckin' jealous," came Nettie's breathless voice from the front seat.

I opened my eyes to notice we were parked in an empty parking lot. I looked at Roger and smiled. 

"Now, Roger, will you let me get back to work?" 



The Mage and the Bear Ch. 07



((No sex, sorry, guys)) 

7.

Nettie's mother studied the gold piece. She had finally sat down - she had heard that her mother's grave had been defaced and was beside herself with anger. I didn't have the heart to tell her that her mother was part of the walking dead.

"I have no idea," she said, handing it back to me.

"What's this about family gold, ma?" Nettie asked.

She scoffed, "No such thing. Where did you get that idea?"

"I remember gramma telling something about that -"

"She was full of stories, you know that. Saying her father was in the Civil War or some stupid idea like that." Nettie's mother looked at me. "She was always out for attention. Wanted to be keeper of the family history."

"Was she?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Births, deaths, marriages, photo albums, that kind of thing."

"Do you have anything of hers?"

"Some things," she said. "It's in the cellar..."

For the next four hours, we searched in a damp, musky cellar for a set of sodden cardboard boxes which had been set there for years. At least now Nettie and her mother were talking to each other, as we plowed through the boxes, looking for anything that might have to do with gold.

Then I found a small candy box and opened it. Inside were three blocks of jet. I knew the mineral when I saw it. I studied them closely, and brought them out to the light. One was shaped like the gold crystal. The other one was a blob, and the final one looked like it had a carving on it. I studied it, and couldn't make head or tails of it.

"Anybody got a magnifying glass?"

After Nettie's mom got one, I had also brought it upstairs to better light. The jet piece was a block, and on one side was carved a downward-pointing triangle, while the other side had a deeply grooved line.

"I saw something like that downstairs," said Nettie's mom, pointing to the little blob, "But I thought they were just rocks."

They were more than rocks. I had no idea what they were, though. That gold crystal had something to do with it. "Can you get them?"

"Sure," she said, and went back down into the cellar.

I looked back to the gold piece and, sure enough, the jet one was a twin of it. I frowned - there was a connection here, but what the hell was it?

Roger came upstairs and said to Nettie, "Man, your grandma loved chess."

"Huh, why?"

"Because there must be about twenty chess sets down in one of the boxes I found."

I glanced back at Roger. Something niggled at me, and then I looked at the pair of crystal-shaped pieces. I put them down on their flat ends, and they stood up straight, facing off against each other...

"You have a computer?" I asked Nettie's mom when she came back up, holding three more of the jet blobs in her hand.

Roger pulled out his phone. "I have a smartphone."

"Google 'chess set images'."

"Hold, please." Roger tapped his phone and then handed it to me.

I swiped some images away, then stopped. "Well, son of a bitch," I said.

Roger, Nettie, and her mom peered over my shoulder to see what I was looking at. I had found chess pieces from India that looked like carved pieces of crystal, or lumps of crystal, or blobs of white and black stone. I zoomed in on one picture, a blob of jet, and pointed to the blob of jet sitting on the table in front of me.

"It's a chess set that he's after," said Nettie.

"Who's after?" asked her mom.

"Nobody," Nettie muttered after getting a look from me.

"What's going on?"

I said, "Whoever defaced your mother's grave, I think, is looking for this chess set."

"She wasn't buried with it," her mother said with a strained laugh.

I looked at more images, and realized that the crystal pieces were called something different in India. _Wazir_, or Vizier, he was replaced by the queen when the chess set came to Europe. However, he wasn't like the queen is now - he moved one space at a time on the diagonal.

Remind me to donate another $20 to wikipedia.

"Mind if I take these?" I asked, motioning to the pieces. I wanted to bring it home to try something.

"Bring the gold one back," said her mother. "I can sell that."

Nettie said, "Mom!"

"What? It's doing me no good now."

If this was what I thought, it would be no good to her at all.



The Mage and the Bear Ch. 08



8.

Roger kept his hand on me as we drove in silence back to my house. I was thinking, rolling the pieces around in my hand. I had a suspicion, I had an idea, and I was in lock-down full-bore mage mode, which did not do anything for any kind of sexual attraction. Roger must have sensed it because he didn't try and tease me.

"Do you need my help?" Nettie asked as she dropped us off.

"No," I said. "In fact, the farther away from here you are, the better it'll be."

Nettie looked worried, then reached across the seat and hugged me awkwardly through the window. "Please be careful, Tam."

I turned to look at Roger, and then toward his car. "Maybe you'd better go, too."

"I know what you're going to do," Roger said, "And I'll be damned if I'm going to let you do it without anyone to protect you."

"Roger, it might be the other way around."

"You're just going to let a zombie walk into your house?"

"Are you kidding?" I said. "I'm going to let a necromancer walk into my house."

~~~~~~

I couldn't let Roger's worry distract me as I set up the circle. Luckily, I'm not one of those wacky mages that needs Tantric sex to build power - I can do it just fine all by myself, thank you very much. I didn't know what the magic would do to him. All I could do was put a protective circle around him - which I proceeded to do. 

"Don't step outside of that circle of chalk, no matter what happens," I said.

He narrowed his eyes at me, but stood silently.

I wore comfortable clothes, though most times in the privacy of my own home, I stripped naked. Hell, I was having a guest over. Might as well look nice. 

I summoned the four quarters for protection, then stepped into my brass circle. I began a chant, something that would generate power, something that would shine like a beacon to anyone with any sort of magical sense. I stopped the chant, and looked around the room. "Come out, come out, wherever you are..."

My apartment door opened slowly. I needed to remember to oil those hinges. It was like all those cheesy creepy movies that you saw when you were a kid - from out of the darkness came...

Zombies.

First came their smell. The smell of death, of the grave, of earth freshly turned. Then they came out into the light of my circle. Partial skeletons, bits of flesh still hanging from them. Heff, man, you did a rotten job on these guys.

The zombies came forward, shambling, as you would expect from the cheesy movies, and I didn't move, thinking the circle protected me. I heard a roar, a beast, and said, "Oh, no--" as Roger leapt from his circle at the zombies coming toward me. He decapitated them with a mere swipe of his claw, and they fell to the floor of my apartment.

God, how was I going to explain this?

"See here now," said a voice with a heavy Indian accent, "whatever are you doing to my army of zombies?"

I glanced at the two pieces, at my feet, and they were glowing. I smiled; the bait worked.

Roger was not Roger, was not even human, but was a full bear - just what I was afraid of. I looked up at the necromancer, who was dressed in a simple button-down shirt and a pair of black pants, with long black hair tied up into a pony tail. He was handsome as an Indian, with deep chocolate skin and black, black eyes.

Yeah, I'd do him.

The necromancer started saying a spell, a spell I knew. Roger backed away, snarling. I yelled, "You came for these, didn't you?" I held up the jet piece.

He stopped the spell. Roger had backed up to the edge of my circle. If his butt end came any closer, it would break the circle, and my protection. Bears have wide asses, I realized at that moment.

"Give them to me."

"Not until you tell me your evil plan."

"What evil plan?"

"Come on, every villain has an evil plan."

He said calmly, "This chess set belonged to my master, and he has sent me on a quest to reclaim it."

"To what end?"

"So that it goes to where it rightfully belongs."

"Is your master a necromancer?"

"He is a master of many magics," and then he grinned at me. "He could best you in battle with but a wave of his hand."

"Yeah, yeah, spare me the 'my dad's dick's bigger than your dick' shit." However, I was thinking. Maybe it was true. It wouldn't be the first time that an Englishman stole something that belonged rightfully to a native.

"Do you promise to not bother this family again if I give you these pieces?"

"I do."

"Do you promise not to exact anything against me or my guardian?" I flicked a glance at Roger, who snarled on command.

"I do. I only claim what is ours."

I put the pieces on a small rubber mat, and cut open a tiny hole in the protection bubble. I shoved the pieces out the length of my arm, then pulled back. Roger then did something I didn't expect - with his claw, he took the edge and dragged it out a little further, to the doorway of my magic room,, and then stepped back to the edge of my circle. He grumbled about it, waving his head back and forth.

The necromancer picked up the pieces, and examined them. 

"Oh, and leave two grand on the table."

"What?"

"Leave two grand on the table. I have to pay for the gold."

He seemed to spit, and then took out a wallet, leaving a wad of money on the table. I expected him to have that kind of money, the way he looked to me.

"And clean up your mess."

The zombies reformed in a swirl of dust, which the necromancer - I could tell by the beads of sweat on his brow - had to exert some sort of will to do. It was flashy and showy and meant to intimidate. Hell, I could have done it faster with a broom and dustpan. 

The necromancer left, the zombies following. I took a deep breath and brought down the circle, while I watched Roger change from a big hefty bear to a big bear of a man, with a huge hard-on.

I crawled over to him, and stretched out full length over his body, his cock pressed against me. He moaned, saying, "You got any lube this time?"

I grabbed some oil that I usually used for anointing candles. Well, this was a candle of a sort, right? 

I lay next to him, and, as was his habit, he turned me away from him so my back was against his chest. First he kissed the back of my neck, and kissed his way down my back. His hands came up to my pectorals, and he pulled, twisted my nipples.

By this time I was hard, moaning, and mere putty in his hands. He kept moving down, and when he kissed my butt, I thrust up to him. He gripped both ass-cheeks and spread me wide.

I knew where he was going. He bit me on the ass, playfully, and then his face was in my crack, and his tongue lapping at my sensitive hole. I tried to keep still for him, but I found myself thrusting back. Then he trust into my hole with his tongue, licking the sides of the wall as far as his tongue would go. I clenched on his tongue, which elicited a growl from him. He was relentless, then, spreading me even wider.

After a bit of that, he pulled back. I was rock hard now, leaking all over. Next I felt something cold and wet at my ass, and I clenched. He kissed my back, and I felt a finger rub the cold and wet, making it warm and wet; and the finger thrust inside me. 

"More," I said, almost begging. Okay, so maybe I was begging.

He thrust another finger inside. I wanted more than that, but moved my hips, driving them deep. He hooked his finger and found my prostate, which caused me to gasp. I closed my eyes and he stroked me there again and again, until I exploded all across my hard wood floor.

He raised himself up and kissed me, fingers still in my hole as I spasmed around them. Panting, I lay my head against his hairy neck. He moved up to my still spasming hole, and pressed the head of his cock against me. I sighed, pushed against him. He slipped his cock into my open and lubed hole, and I groaned, finally getting what I wanted.

Then he started thrusting, and I was lost, shoving back, clenching, moaning...He growled and thrust twice more into me, and then I felt him shudder and warmth fill me. He lay next to me, and I felt his downy fur against my back. I took his hands and clasped them over my chest, kissing them.

I could get used to this.

The next day, after sleeping in my bed, I got a phone call from Nettie's mom demanding where the gold was. I said I had sold it for her, and had the cash. After she screamed at me, she drove down herself and picked up the money, but not without giving Roger and me a hateful glare.

So things ended well, don't you think?

Until Monday rolled around. But that's another story.

###

The End. For now.