Bear Hunter

an excerpt



Chapter One

It was nighttime, just after sunset. It was still early, but the itch in my mind wouldn't go away. I was hunting.

That's what I liked to call it anyway. I walked through the streets, hands in my pockets, my leather jacket zipped up tight against the cold of autumn. I kept my eyes open for any guys out alone. A pair of tight jeans—something that would catch my eye. I was still a little jetlagged, and I didn't know the waterfront streets at all, but I could see a couple of bars were already open. Likely places, maybe. I took my time, walked slowly. The hunt is more fun that way.

The sky was a heavy, washed-out gray over my head. I felt the bite of the wind on my face, and smiled. I even stopped for a moment and looked out between two houses at the rocky beach that was never far; at the deceivingly calm sea just beyond. I wondered what it would be like to suddenly plunge into the cold waters of the bay just then. The clothes I was wearing would soak through, dragging me down. My heavy boots would be like concrete shoes. I would not be able to move my arms well with my jacket, and I would probably have to fight for my life. I grinned. Somehow the prospect excited me.

I resumed walking as the light faded from the town streets. Some of the people I passed glanced at me curiously, but they looked away when I glared. I could practically hear what they were thinking. Too late in the year for tourists, and too early for the heavy winter work and the wandering laborers that came with the snows. All of the locals stayed out of my way, and a few even went out of their way to avoid me. Perhaps they could feel something about me that told them to stay away. They were right.

I walked until it got dark. Under the cover of darkness I felt much better. I could walk noiselessly when I wanted to, and in a town with streets as wide as this one, with few streetlamps to light the way, I could become a shadow.

I walked through the streets that crisscrossed the town. Silent. Thinking. Not many people saw me, but I saw them all. Nobody recognized me. Good.

By now they had probably lost the trail anyway, if they hadn't before. I had not used the stolen credit card on the last leg of the journey, only cash. Hard to trace a man without an electronic trail to follow. I had also made sure my face was covered on the highways in case a camera got a glimpse of me, and once past the state line I had simply thrown all my old stuff into some ditch. I'd let my beard grow too. It was neatly trimmed, red like my hair, and it transformed my face and made me seem older than I really was. Nothing on me was mine either. No way to tell my name was Sven Madison at all. And they'd have to be really lucky to trace me all the way to this godforsaken town in the middle of nowhere. Alaska is just about as far from the rest of the world as you can get.

I blinked, focusing back on the moment. The night had grown colder while I had been walking aimlessly and thinking. I was not wearing a hat and I wore my hair very short, so the bite of the wind was getting uncomfortable. I quickened my pace to get to the bar sooner. That's where I had been heading all along.

It stood all by itself, in the bad part of town. I'd chosen it because of its location, and because in here it would be more likely to find the kind of man I wanted. A tacky neon sign above the main door proclaimed the bar as "Roger's Place." The building was mostly wood; a single story, and built low like a warehouse, which it probably had been at some point. The paint on the outer walls had long since peeled away, any bits of metal long ago corroded by the salt of the sea. A couple of cars were parked along the far side of the building and I saw a guy leaning against a post near the front door, smoking. I walked quickly up the dirt path that led to the bar from the sea-facing side and went right in.

The warmth engulfed me as soon as I was past the doors. It was almost uncomfortably hot in the crowded bar, in complete contrast to the chilly night outside. I took off my jacket and waded through the people sitting at tables or standing in random places talking. I headed straight for the bar and found an empty stool on which I sat. The bartender came soon enough, and I ordered a beer. When it came, I paid for it, and turned around, the cold beer in my hand, to watch the people gathered there.

There was an improvised dance area near an old-fashioned jukebox that was actually playing country tunes. Not many people were dancing; it was still too early for most people to be drunk enough to attempt it. I only saw about six men and women over there, with a few onlookers cheering them on.

Most of the people were near the front, sitting around low tables chatting, drinks and snacks set on the tables. Most of them seemed to know one another, and every time someone new came in, he or she was greeted by at least one of the groups gathered around the tables. Their conversations were animated, and I could feel a sense of community that reminded me of my own rural town, where everybody knew everybody else.

At the back of the bar were the fishermen. I could tell by their clothes and the way they kept apart from everyone else. Occasionally one of them would come up to the bar and ask for another round of drinks That group was promising; it was mostly men, some obviously not locals judging by their accents. From where I was sitting I couldn't hear much of their conversations over the loud music, but I heard enough to know most of them were relieved to be ashore now that a storm was reported to be coming.

I scanned the group of a dozen or so fishermen, looking for a likely candidate. Most of the men were older than me, or not my type at all. I caught the eye of a couple of the more likely ones after looking long enough, but none appeared to be interested. That left me fewer options to choose from, and I began to think I might not find anyone tonight after all.

"Hey, stranger."

I turned. A woman sat next to me, smiling. She looked to be around thirty, a couple years older than me. Dark, long hair, a skirt that was too short and a blouse that left little to the imagination. She gave me what she must have thought was a seductive look and introduced herself.

"I'm Tiffany."

"Sven," I said.

"Haven't seen you around here before, Sven."

I paused. "Just passing through."

"I see... Hey, it's kind of hot in here, don't you think? What are you drinking?"

I caught the hint and ordered her a beer, more amused than annoyed at her interruption. She was greatly encouraged by the gesture, and edged closer to me on her stool.

"Where are you staying?" she asked me.

I'd been scanning the room all the while, looking, and at that moment I saw a likely guy. He was standing near the jukebox, a drink in his hand, looking at the dancing couples but not participating. He looked young, about my age. He was on the thin, weak-looking side, which was a slight disappointment. His face was attractive enough, though, and his dirty-blond hair framed his angular features nicely. He was wearing a checkered shirt and a pair of faded jeans that were too tight for him. Had a nice package, too, from what I could see.

"Sven?" Tiffany said. She had probably asked me something.

I followed the guy's look. He was watching the dancers intently but only focusing on the men as they awkwardly stomped and jumped around to the tune of the country music blaring from the jukebox.

I grinned. I'd found what I was looking for.

I absently left some money on the bar to pay for the drink I'd ordered and left, making a beeline for the guy. When I was halfway there, he saw me coming. I nodded at him, and was gratified to see him give me the once-over and smile uncertainly back at me. I crossed the crowded room in a few more steps and stopped right next to him, beer in hand.

"Hey," I said, my deep voice carrying over the sound of the music and the laughter from the fishermen's table.

The guy looked around, as if he expected me to be talking to someone else. Hmmm. Not very confident.

"Hi," he answered.

I would have probably left right then if I had been in any other place, but there were not a lot of options in this town and I was horny. This guy would have to do.

I stuck out my hand. "Sven."

"I'm Gordon," he said, shaking my hand. Firm grip, but he winced when I squeezed a bit harder.

I leaned back on the wall and watched the dancers for a bit, waiting to see what Gordon would do. He obviously had no idea what came next, and the silence made him uncomfortable. I didn't offer any help. If he was as interested as I was, he'd have to show me.

"Um..." he began, "are you new here?"

The same tired line. Valid, though. "Yeah."

I took a long drink from my glass until it was empty, then wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I looked at Gordon with a steady, calculated stare that clearly made him nervous. I glanced significantly at his crotch and adjusted the fly of my jeans with an exaggerated motion.

Gordon gulped. "Listen," he said, as if surprised to hear himself speak out loud. "You want to go, you know, someplace?"

I grinned. Not bad. The guy was showing some initiative at least.

"Follow me," I said.

I stopped by the bar to put my empty glass down, and passed by a very surprised Tiffany on the way out. I put on my jacket before pushing the door open and stepped into the cold night, Gordon close behind.

I turned and walked down the western side of the bar, where a nearby shed made a kind of small alley that shielded us from view. There I stopped and turned around. Gordon nearly collided against me.

I unzipped my fly and said, "Kneel."

Gordon looked at me fleetingly, hesitating for a split second, then did as he was told.

I took out my dick, and Gordon gasped when he saw it.

"What is it?" I said, voice low.

"It's...big," Gordon answered.

I shoved my dick in his face. "Wait till you get it hard. Come on, boy. Get to work."

I grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his face up. He opened his mouth willingly and took my cock when I gave it to him. Then he began to suck me off.

"Yeah, that's it," I said, getting hard inside his mouth.

Gordon grunted something, but he couldn't really speak. He was really going at it, though. The guy was enjoying himself. I was a bit disappointed he'd submitted so willingly, but hey. A blowjob is a blowjob.

He grabbed the base of my dick with one hand and began to work his mouth up and down its length. His mouth was warm, and I plunged my cock inside it every chance I got, feeling how he used his tongue to caress the sensitive head with deft, hungry motions. I closed my eyes and let him service me, thrusting into his throat slowly, then backing out as he sucked me with increasing intensity.

I saw he'd taken his own dick out, and was busy jacking off while he took my meat into his throat. The sight made me hornier and I began to thrust inside his mouth with more force, driving as deep as I could go, holding his head in place for a couple seconds before pulling out. He gasped for air, spit dribbling from his lower lip as he swallowed once, hurriedly, then nodded and opened his mouth again, taking me in as far as he could.

He used his lips and tongue to get my dick all slick and hard, and he licked every inch of it. He worked up a rhythm with his head, going up and down, making soft slurping noises every time he backed off to take a breath. I let him get worked up, grunting to encourage him. He responded right away, and redoubled his efforts to please me every way he knew how. The guy was good at sucking dick; I had to give him that. His hand was flying over his own cock, his eyes shut tight as he took me in his mouth every time I thrust with short, hard motions. Soon he began to breathe a bit faster; I could tell he was close to coming, and he must have thought I was, too, sucking me off on his knees like he was.

That was when I stopped him.

He looked up, puzzled.

"Come on," I said, stuffing my hard cock back inside my jeans. Not an easy task since it barely fit, but I didn't want to come yet. If this guy was game for it, then we could have fun all night.

Gordon stood up uncertainly, looking at me. I turned away. I headed back toward downtown with quick, long strides, not even once looking back to see if he was following. After a while I heard his steps behind me. I allowed myself a satisfied grin. I'd known he'd come.

He tried to start a conversation once or twice as we walked, but I didn't answer him and he soon gave up. The cold had gotten worse, and having stood out in the open while he was sucking me off hadn't improved it one bit. The brisk walk warmed me up, though, and before long we'd arrived at the hotel where I was staying. The woman in the counter looked up briefly, sleepy-eyed, and seemed to recognize Gordon. Must have been an awkward moment, too, because Gordon hurried after me up the rickety wooden stairs.

I ducked so I wouldn't knock my head on the ceiling beam and unlocked the door to my room. I went in and let Gordon through. It was much warmer here, and I took off my jacket right away. Then I locked the door behind us so we wouldn't be disturbed.

"Want a beer?" I asked him. I didn't turn on the lights, and the only illumination came from a streetlamp outside. The room was still divided into strips of orange light and pure darkness, just enough to see by but not enough to make out too many details.

"Um..." Gordon stammered. He took off his jacket slowly. "No, thanks..."

I could tell the darkness made him nervous, but I didn't do anything to correct it. Instead I took off my shirt, pulling it over my head. I stepped closer to the light and Gordon followed.

I could feel his eyes on my body, and didn't stop him when he reached out tentatively to touch my hard pecs and run his palm over the hair that covered them. He was still disappointingly shy, though, so I had to make the next move. I pulled him to me sharply, holding his narrow waist in a tight embrace. Gordon gasped but didn't resist. He didn't protest when I all but tore his shirt open and ran my hands over his smooth, warm skin.

I led him to the bed and pushed him back onto it. He bounced a bit on the mattress, eyes locked onto mine. I fumbled with my belt for a second and unbuckled it. Gordon was doing the same. I took off my jeans along with my underwear quickly, throwing the clothes off to the side. Gordon pulled off his own pants too, eager and looking as horny as I was.

When I was standing fully naked in front of him, with my hard dick swollen to its full size, Gordon sat up on the bed and reached for it with something like awe. He grabbed it and put it in his mouth right away. I let him work on my dick for a while, enjoying the sensation, but before long I was ready to try something else. I took my dick out of Gordon's mouth and motioned for him to lie back on the bed.

Our eyes had gotten used to the semi-darkness by then and I saw the eager look in his eyes as he did as he was told. His own cock was stiff and throbbing between his legs; shorter than mine, but still a good-sized piece of meat. I briefly jacked Gordon off and he moaned with pleasure, squirming under my touch. Then he spread his legs wide, his intentions pretty clear. He wanted me to fuck him.

I'd expected him to make me work for it, to offer some resistance at least, even try to top me. No such luck. Feeling a bit less eager, but still horny enough to want to fuck his brains out, I climbed onto the bed too, running my hands over Gordon's smooth ass. I touched his round, firm cheeks, squeezing them a bit a couple times. Then I moved my hand over Gordon's balls and grabbed them, hard. Gordon yelped and shook his head, motioning that he wasn't into that. Too bad.

I let go and moved over to his ass. Gordon moaned as soon as I began to caress the area around his hole. When I found it and pushed over it lightly with a finger, he moaned again.

I looked around for something that could serve to tie Gordon's hands, but the only thing I found was his shirt. I picked it up from the floor and entwined it into a makeshift rope.

"Put your hands up," I said, holding the shirt in my hands.

Gordon hesitated again.

"I don't..."

"Come on," I said. "You'll like it."

Slowly, he nodded. He put his hands over his head as he lay on the bed. I leaned over him, my hard cock and balls brushing his chest as I reached over his head to tie both his hands together. I made a knot quickly and yanked on it until it was firm. Then I tightened it some more.

"Is it too tight?" I asked Gordon.

"No." He tried to free his hands, couldn't. "It's strong, though."

"That's the idea," I said, grinning.

I knelt back in my original position, between Gordon's wide-open legs. I licked my right index finger thoroughly and brought it down, right over his hole.

I pushed.

Gordon cried out, more in surprise than in pain, but he let my finger slide all the way inside his asshole, and as I worked my finger in and out of it he began to loosen up.

"You like that, boy?" I asked him.

"Yeah."

"You want more?"

"Yeah!"

I gave him what he asked for. I finger-fucked him deep and fast, making him moan in pleasure, twisting my finger inside him and pushing up when I was fully in, massaging his prostate with expert, practiced motions. Gordon surrendered to my touch, grinding his hole against my hand, begging for more, enjoying the way it felt to be fingered every way I wanted. It didn't take long to convince me he was ready for some real fucking. My cock was throbbing between my legs, dripping precum onto the sheets. After a final finger-thrust, I stood up and went for the condoms and lube I had in the drawers by the wall. I took them out and went right back to the bed.