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Sean’s naked 225-pound body flew over my shoulders and he landed on his ass with a walloping thud. The look of surprise on his face bent his usual shit-eating grin into an angry-looking glare, signaling that I’d won, if only that one unexpected move. Winning the battle against Sean was another matter.

We had arrived at the campsite just minutes ago, flung our duffels in the cabin and furiously torn off every stitch and flew at each other like the badass little grapplin’ bears we were.

With Sean then uncharacteristically flat on his back, I wasted no time as I lunged forward and hurled myself on top of his prone figure and again he grunted at the pounding blow of body on body.

The surprised frown on his face betrayed the fact that Sean had grown way too used to beating me whenever we tangled. I was as tough a customer and as dirty a fighter as he was, but Sean always won our brawls. Sure, considering he’d had formal wrestling experience in school, and outweighed me by better than twenty pounds, and had two years on me, he ought to.

But when you wrestle a guy a lot and are constantly annihilated at his hands you begin to learn his tricks, his weak points, his tactics; if you’re paying attention, that is. Sean and I wrestled every chance we got and he beat me every time. But I paid attention.

And just how, you ask, did we two bear cubs end up grappling buck naked in the Adirondacks?

After my parents divorced when I was fourteen, I went to live with my Dad in upstate New York, which was terrific for three reasons: first, it meant I wouldn’t share the fate of my younger brother who ended up living with Mom and her paranoid family in San Diego; secondly, I found out that my previously tight-lipped Dad was actually a great guy, fun, easy-going, honest, and cool about letting me be who I was, making life with him a real joy; and the last and best reason, my best buddy Sean lived in the same town.

Sean and I were ecstatic when I called to tell him about my moving there. We’d met for the first time the previous summer, encountered and awakened each other’s combat lust and quickly bonded about as tightly as two young wrestling bears could.

On the September evening when I got off the bus at my new home, Dad, Sean, and his dad, Greg, met me at the station. Did I go straight to my new house?

Nope. Sean’s basement room, huge and equipped with top-quality wrestling mats, was our first stop, and the minute we set foot in that room every stitch of clothing was shucked off and we started a wild, bareass naked, unchained, totally uninhibited, growling, snarling, brutal, all-out bearcub sex fight that lasted well past midnight. We were like two wild animals fighting over turf. Bears, that is, two young bear cubs, big, husky, furry young ‘uns.

Now if you think that this was some kind of problem for our two dads, you’re dead wrong. When Sean and I first met the previous July at the Adirondack campsite our dads owned, what do you think we discovered on one hot, eventful Adirondack night? Our two dads, best buddies since they were young bears, were also two of the biggest, wildest, meanest, furriest old bareass grapplers you could find. Like papa bears, like baby bears.

Standing an inch or so over six feet and then weighing around 225 pounds, Sean was darker than I was, with a head of curly black hair and a beautiful thick pelt of hair all over his huge chest, nice and thick on his powerful forearms, and even denser on those big muscular legs. One little glance at Sean’s fantastic coat of curly black fur covering a magnificently tall, rugged body was all I needed to put the iron in my rod. His understated manliness, the simplicity of power based on genuine strength rather than bluster, the ruggedly handsome face with deep blue eyes set under thick brows, the square, prominent jaw, wide mouth, and ever-thickening beard shadow finished off the icon of the rugged, natural man. In bygone days Sean would have easily been pigeonholed as a warrior, explorer, or frontiersman. Given his Acadian-Cajun-French ancestry on his father’s side combined with his mother’s Irish ancestry, that was pretty imaginable.

Sean’s best and worst feature? Easy. He has this beautiful, big, shit-eating grin, a smile that could melt steel. What that powerful body couldn’t pulverize his smile could. And did. Take my word for it.

And how about yours truly? Then fifteen, I stood 5-feet-11, weighing just shy of 200 pounds. My dark brown hair was wavy, eyes greenish blue; and best for a bearcub’s pride and his best buddy’s delight, I was as hairy a fucker as Sean, except that my body hair was fine and straight.

At thirteen I knew I was going to be a bearcub: beside the usual crop of pubes and the fuzz on my legs there was serious bristle sprouting on my chest which was kept thickening into a generous pelt as time went on.

After arriving in my new home Sean remarked that he’d noticed right away that my chest, belly, and groin were much hairier than last summer. Naked in front of Sean’s mirror in his room I saw he was right. Now the dark brown hair on my chest was thicker and flowed in large continuous waves over the pecs, thicker too on the upper part of my chest under my neck. The fur on my gut was denser and I’d sprouted a crab-ladder.

"And that pube jungle of yours is gonna keep your meat good and warm during the winter here, old buddy!" Sean teased. But what really kept me warm during that first freezing upstate New York winter were my countless brawls with good old Sean in his nice warm basement ring.

The next summer Sean turned seventeen and inherited his dad’s old Dodge pickup so he could take me, then fifteen, up to the Adirondack campsite to spend time by ourselves and brawl our asses off.

It was early June, the fiery new summer sun warmed the days again, and both of us grappling young ‘uns were about as horny as hell and itching for a good fight. Sean’s basement may have provided us a great place to wrassle through the long cold months of winter, but what Sean and I really craved was tangling buck naked under the broiling sun out in the wild. Nature’s way, with nature’s weapons.

For us wrestling was more than just good exercise or a love for competitive sport. Our combat was a pure, primitive liberation driven by plain old-fashioned lust. We knew it when we first met; when we fought it wasn’t just to test each other’s manhood and strength and endurance of pain, which we did, or to see who could overpower the other, which we also did. We fought to unchain the raw power each of us drew out of his body and innermost self, set it free and be a part of wild nature, propelling each other into the most primitive bond of union two men like Sean and me could achieve. It was what we were.

So there we were, back at the scene of our first combat at it again, punching away hard at our pecs and guts, grabbing, swatting, and squeezing our balls and cocks, choking the lights out of each other scissoring our necks, jerking and yanking each other by the hair or body part for advantage, kicking and mauling each other. It was rapture. We never gouged eyes or stuff like that because we instinctively knew each other’s limits or had found out in combat.

Finally one of us could no longer fight and submitted to the other. The struggle between us reached its climax, boiling sap in our loins thickened to seal our shared combat. Our fur slick and runny with oil and sweat under the June sun, the might of Sean’s muscles ground my back and drove my trembling arms into the freshly grown blanket of grass.

"Awwwrrrrgh....! Alright ... alright!" My lungs threatened to burst. Face down on top of me, Sean’s huge, thick legs still locked hard around mine in spite of his own pain, Sean too gasped for air.

"I ... give. Your win.... you ... fuckin’ beat me." My legs and arms were wracked with excruciating, exhilarating pain.

The wild expression in his eyes cued me to the agony I’d inflicted on him, his usual shit-eating grin banished. But it was still his win.

Exhausted but erupting with passion, held down by the furry might of his body, I opened my mouth and began to lick the sweat and oil caking his fuzzy cheeks and chin and brows, and he ran his tongue over my chest and biceps. And then our tongues, meeting in between the space where our eyes locked on each other, plunged deep into our mouths, little streams of saliva flowing out our mouths and down our chins, mixed with the hot sweat of combat. Even the breath in our lungs was shared and exchanged as the thunder of heartbeats pounded over and over in our heads.

There was still fury in us, in our loins, which were so hot they cooked our blood and our male sap until it was a frothy heat and filled up the tongues of flesh jutting out of our loins, filling them until they were the hard branches of our manhood. Still in a kind of combat, slowly, in large slow measured shifts we began to rub and scrape our young bear cocks against each other, jamming the meat of manhood together, then again, again, and again.

Then slowly, we rubbed our furry chests together, and then our hairy bellies, our legs. We kept rubbing together like that until we’d driven each other to a state near delirium. Sean pushed himself up with his huge arms, arched his back, wincing at his pain, scraping and rubbing his groin and his hard cock against mine, and I pushed my groin and my cock up against him. Two hairy young male bears pressing, rubbing hard one against the other, our hard bearcocks red and raw, ecstasy and anguish mingled.

The primitive frenzy of our scuffing bodies boiled hotter, our bodies trembled so savagely I thought our hearts were going to stop and our passion would kill us. In the same moment as long, low rumbles churned in our throats and mouths our cocks spewed gushes of milky juice, soaking our chests, bellies and groins. We were like animals marking ourselves with the cream of our shared manhood.

Sean murmured softly, raising himself up off of my torso with his big hairy arms. Our chests and guts, sticky with cum and sweat, crinkled as they unstuck.

"You’re aching to beat me." All I saw were Sean’s two big eyes the color of ocean.

"Fucking right I’m aching," I muttered hoarsely. "I’m gonna beat you, brother bear. I need to."

"You’re going to." At that I frowned. Sean’s fingers ran through my wet hair and he tugged my head. "No, fucker, I’m not gonna let you beat me. Ever."

"Better not," I warned.

"We know each other better. We’ll make each other fight for it, buddy." Sean’s voice was a whisper as he clutched me. "And you’re gettin’ better, harder, stronger every day."

"We both need to win, I guess" I said, clutching back. "And something more."

"A lot more," he said. "Luke, you’ve always been a winner all your life. You always fight with all you’ve got, your body and spirit. You’re a tenacious fucker who doesn’t let anything stop him. You stood up to your mom’s family when they tried brainwashing you about going in the navy." We both chuckled at the reference to my summers as a kid when I stayed with my mother’s family, all gung-ho naval officers.

Sean ran his thick fingers along my hairy chest, then tugged. "You’re twice the man than any other guy I’ve ever taken on. I love you, buddy."

Again we sucked air from our lungs as our mouths curled around each other.

Now both our cheeks were moist. Our fingers locked tight. Pushing him lightly, he rolled over on his back as I mounted him.

"Sean, we’ve got something good, because I’m really alive when we brawl. It feels like we always did this ... grappled, fought together, all through the ages."

"Yeah, something old and deep --- grapplin’ wild and naked like two--- "

"Bears! Sean the Bear against Luke the Bear. We are the battle, buddy,"

"Sean and Luke, the warrior bear ... Yeah, sounds perfect!"

And I growled at him. "Together! And against all comers!"

"Together! And against all comers!" He growled back.

A week later we were back up at the campsite by ourselves again. Our respective dads were off up north in Canada for a week, leaving us the place all to ourselves.

On our second morning we slept in, ate a late breakfast and lazed around a while, until early in the afternoon when we decided the day was much too perfect to waste; the temperature was a dry eighty degrees and in a cloudless blue sky the sun lit up the lake and the whole landscape, even the big oaks and conifers looked greener. Deciding to go rowing, we packed up our canteens and a hearty supply of Sean’s favorite trail-mix, popcorn, almonds, and peanut butter crackers, and shoved off.

Our campsite was on the shallower and most remote part of the lake on a gentle slope at the foot of a large wooded hill. A long neck of land covered with spruce jutted out into the lake on our south side, a narrow island rose out of the water on the other side. We rowed south, heading for the deeper waters of the lake, out past the neck, and were excitedly chattering about plans we’d started to cook up with our dads for a vacation trip to California.

Rounding the neck we spotted a large sheltered cove about a half-mile from our campsite property but separated from it by a another thickly wooded hill as well as the promontory. Rowing at a relaxed pace about twenty yards or so offshore, we spied a khaki tent nestled along the edge of the shore. Campers were common in the area but we never had any unexpected visitors or lost hikers wandering into our camp because of its remote locale and the fact that our dads had carefully posted no-trespass signs along the edge of our property line.

We were now about twenty yards offshore in a direct line of sight with the tent as we headed into deep water when we saw the flap open. Out crept a large bearish-looking guy about our age. Wearing nothing but white cotton briefs, he stood up sleepily, yawned and stretched.

Sean stopped rowing, craning slightly. "Damn! Check out the white bear!" Sean exclaimed.

The tent bear might have been about Sean’s size, with light hair, sandy or brown, but at that distance he didn’t look like he had much fur on his solid body. Our oars dragged in the water and we let the boat drift on the calm lake as we watched the guy stretch out in a morning exercise routine.

"He’s a big sucker alright. Great body, but no fur," I said, disappointed.

"Hey, wait a sec --- Luke, that guy looks familiar. Like a guy I knew in junior high. A guy on my wrestling team, yeah. Marty was his name ... I think. But I’m not sure..."

"Yeah? Fellow wrestler, huh?" My interest peaked. "A good grappler? Wanna row ashore and see for sure?"

"A damn good wrestler, but no one really knew the guy. A real quiet, shy type," Sean answered. "Kept to himself, never hung out with us outside of practice. "

And then the tent bear spotted us and waved briskly to us, not looking a bit shy standing there in nothing but his underwear.

"Hey, guys! How’s it going? Great day, huh!" the tent bear shouted.

Sean and I waved back and answered. The guy seemed friendly enough, even downright overjoyed to see us. Or maybe just the sight of other human beings out in the Adirondack wilds made him feel less alone. We didn’t row in but were drifting toward shore. We didn’t want to appear to invade the guy’s privacy unless there was a definite invitation.

"Hey guys, what time it is? I remembered to pack everything but a watch!" the white bear called, and in answer Sean hollered back that it was just past one thirty.

"Hey, wait a minute! Sean Beausoleil? Is that you?" the white bear called, stepping into the lake.

"Yeah, I’m Sean. Aren’t you Marty ... ?" Sean’s tone was slightly stiff and he didn’t sound thrilled about meeting up with Marty.

"Hell, yeah! Alright, Sean! Great to see ya ... never thought we’d cross paths way up here! Hey you guys, come on in."

"You said he wasn’t friendly?" I whispered, chuckling softly as we started rowing ashore. "This guy’s like an little kid, he’s so excited to see ya he might wet his briefs."

"Shit," Sean muttered back under his breath, "The Marty I knew was never like that when I knew him!"

"They never are until they’re alone on a camping trip, and out of food" I answered.

Looking genuinely glad at seeing us Marty was in the water almost up to his basket to greet us as our boat came ashore. And Marty’s basket was noticeably full with a good bulge of manmeat confined in those white cotton briefs. He reached out to take Sean’s hand, clasping so tightly he almost pulled poor Sean overboard. He was just as warm and friendly as he clenched my hand hard as I hopped out of the boat.

At close range Marty was a really hot looking young bear and definitely looked like a guy who could hold his own wrassling. Sean’s beefy, brawny equal in height and size with a thick torso, big square shoulders, burly arms and legs, I found to my surprise and delight Marty was also just as furry a critter as Sean and I. It’s just that Marty had this sandy blond hair and his body fur was the same color so it didn’t show up well until you were up close. But the guy was hairy, on his thick chest, belly, arms, and legs.

We sat down at a distance from the tent. Beside being a hot young ‘un, Marty was casual, good-natured, warm, an easygoing sort and I found myself liking him. So did Sean, who was amazed at the change. After a while, Sean was nervy enough to ask.

"Hey Marty, what happened to that quiet shy boy on the wrestling team at Washington Irving Junior High?"

Marty chuckled and shrugged. "He just grew up a bit, came out of his shell."

That led to Sean and Marty reminiscing about school, old friends, and the usual catching up on current doings. As they jawed on I began to visualize these two great big husky cubs wrestling, but not on some junior-high team: I saw them wrassling buck naked, the way Sean and I went at it. That led to a swelling in my basket which I tried to hide. A little.

Marty turned to me beaming broadly. "Hey, Luke, I hope you know that good old Sean here was one of the best wrestlers we ever had in school. I mean it, this guy was strictly gold-medal all the way!" Suppressing a chuckle, I listened as Marty recalled some of Sean’s notable wrestling victories for their team.

Finally I said as deadpan as I could, "Yeah, he mentioned he wrestled. Once or twice, I think."

Sean’s elbow jammed my gut as he flashed his shit-eating grin at me and muttered "Twice."

As we chatted I thought I heard a murmur coming from the tent. Suddenly the flap flew open and out stepped another bear cub, large and red.

Without a word or nod to anyone, Redbear stretched out his big brawny body. About my height and size, barefoot and shirtless in a pair of frayed, faded old jeans, Redbear sported a handsome pelt of fine tawny fur that flowed down over bulging pecs into a dark, dense crab-ladder that shot straight down into his bulging, meat-filled basket. His red curly hair tumbled over his forehead and down the back of his neck, brushing his beefy shoulders. His face was good and strong, square with a prominent jaw and his cheeks coated with a couple of day’s worth of red down. And except that Redbear’s face was in a permanent scowl the guy wasn’t bad looking. I guessed he was about my age, too.

"Hey Tim," Marty called amiably. "We got company!"

Ignoring us Redbear just gazed out at the lake, his big downy-haired chest expanding and contracting as he sucked in a long, deep breath, then loudly blew it out.

"I heard." It was more spit than word, the tone arrogant and about as cold as January in Buffalo. After a moment he turned and cast a sullen glance our way, and then Redbear snorted and curled his lips as reached into the tent and dragged out a large cooler.

"That’s Tim, my brother," Marty said, with noticeable discomfort.

Marty smiled bravely and tried again. "Hey Tim, come meet Sean and Luke. Sean and I were on the wrestling team at Irving Junior High."

"Superfuckin’ great," Redbear muttered, removing a wrapped sandwich from the cooler and without another word lumbered off into the woods.

Marty shook his head, making no effort to hide his embarrassment. "Hey guys, I’m sorry about Tim, please don’t take it personally. The kid’s got problems, and he’s like that with everyone."

"No sweat." Sean was warm and sympathetic. "Doesn’t bother me any."

Marty’s tone briefly sharpened. "Yeah, but sometimes he can be a real fuckin’ asshole. He’s been getting into more trouble lately. I can reach him, sometimes. I thought maybe if I took him along on one of my camping trips it might help loosen him up a little."

"Sounds like you’re a good brother, Marty. But it’s gonna take a lot of camping," I said bluntly.

"Hey Marty, how about a little rowing?" Sean grinned.

"Yeah, spend the afternoon with us. Too great a day to hang around camp, man!" I chimed in.

Marty was suddenly a much happier camper. The afternoon out on the lake turned out to be lots of fun, and Marty, more relaxed and loose, was great to have along. The more I got to know Marty the more I liked him. He was the sort of guy who was so decent, fun-loving, and genuine he was hard to dislike.

He wasn’t hard to look at either. Sitting in the boat shirtless, flashing us that handsome big thick hairy chest and face was a great eyeful of hot bear flesh which Sean and I were both enjoying. Also, Marty made a few other references to Sean’s wrestling prowess before he finally asked Sean if he still wrestled.

"All the time, Marty." Sean shot the shit-eater grin at Marty and then me.

Marty smiled at me. "Hey, Luke, how about you. You wrestle?"

"Yep. Every chance I get, Marty." I could tell Marty already knew the answer.

"Thought so. You look like a real good grappler." But Marty didn’t take it any further. Later when we dropped Marty back at his campsite we invited him and the brat to our camp for supper, which he eagerly accepted, promising to bring food.

Later that evening Marty sat with us at the picnic table down at the shoreline at our camp. As expected Marty showed up with food and,as expected, Redbear didn’t show. I thought Redbear was hot to look at but a total jerkoff, so I couldn’t decide whether I was disappointed or relieved.

Good guy that he was, Marty was concerned. He told us about Redbear’s problems, his lack of friends, and more recently, getting into fights and trouble. The youngest of seven kids, Redbear stuck to Marty and listened to him, but as Marty said, not a hell of a lot.

"I haven’t even seen Tim since this afternoon when you saw him," Marty said. "The fucker doesn’t know these hills so I hope he doesn’t get lost."

Redbear wasn’t lost. As the sun began to sink into the mountains a while later a bearish form in faded jeans and a white shirt lumbered down the hillside trail into our camp. Redbear strode over to the table and just sat down heavily and glanced at us with his usual sullen face. With his usual bad manners didn’t say hello to anyone.

"Let’s book, Marty. I want to get back home," he said.

"But we just got here yesterday," Marty answered. "The weekend’s---"

"Fuck this stupid camping shit, man," Redbear snarled. "C’mon, let’s go."

Marty’s face showed a growing impatience with this kid’s attitude. He cared about the little asshole and had taken over as a sort of stand-in parent, but Redbear’s shitty treatment of him and everyone else was wearing Marty’s patience thin. Real thin.

"Forget it Tim," Marty barked back, said holding his ground. An expression of irritation crossed Marty’s usually affable face. "You agreed to the whole weekend, that was our deal.

"I changed my mind!" retorted Redbear sullenly.

"Too bad. I’ve made new friends here and I don’t feel like going." Marty snapped. Then with a big sigh his voice was pleading. "You’re welcome to join us, Tim."

"I don’t give a shit about your friends!"

"Well I do. And we’re not leaving." Marty’s tone was as sharp as any frustrated parent and we saw he had a definite boiling point.

Sean tried to help. "Hey Tim, stay cool, man. Relax! You’re welcome to hang out with us." But Redbear glared back angrily at Sean and at Marty.

"Fuck off, asshole!"

As for yours truly, that was it. Neither Marty and Sean deserved Redbear’s shitty treatment. "Why don’t you cut the bullshit crybaby act and figure out how good you got it, you spoiled little jerkoff. Marty’s trying to let you have a good time and so are we."

"Shove it, shithead! Who asked you?" Redbear shot me the fuckfinger. In spite of the guy’s hot looks, he was a mess.

"Shove it yourself, asshole. I’m not one of the fourth-graders you like to push around."

"Fuck you, man. I step on guys like you every day!"

"Guys like me?" Shaking my head and chuckling I answered quietly, "I don’t think so. You’re too stupid and gutless for that. Not when the odds aren’t stacked in your favor. So if you want to try, just say the word, you stupid prick."

I was on my feet and glaring at Redbear who just glared back but made no move.

"On your feet. Now!" Marty roared so loud he startled all of us.

Marty was standing over Redbear looking about as fed up and pissed-off as it gets. He tapped the arrogant little bastard on his shoulder and in a low voice that meant business said only, "I said up!"

"What the fuck’re you talking about?" Redbear snarled, but his voice was quivering.

"I’m pissed off, you little fucker, is what it’s about. I’ve fucking had it with you and your bullshit. And I’m not letting you off the hook any more. You’re gonna fight your own battles for a change. Starting right now. You think you can take a guy like Luke? Maybe, maybe not. Luke looks to me like he might be just the guy willing to give you a chance to prove it, little brother. How about it, Luke?"

"You got it, Marty," as I pulled off my tanktop, shucked my shorts and stood grinning at Redbear in my red briefs.

"Question answered. Now, on your fucking feet!" Marty bellowed.

Scowling but obedient Redbear stood up. Whatever else he might have lost or wanted or felt, Marty was all Redbear had. If he backed down he’d lose that too.

Sean never spoke, but from behind draped an arm over my shoulder and patted my furry chest. Feeling my heart pound faster, he punched my biceps with his other fist and then hugged me. Feeling the bulge of Sean’s bearcock against my butt and his head nudging mine, he reached down and gently squeezed my basket.

"It’s just a bear’s way of blessing another bear for victory in the coming brawl," he whispered. And then Sean stepped away.

All I wanted was to kick Redbear’s ass and teach him a lesson. My brain was engaged, the proverbial juices flowed, my muscles tightened.

Redbear shot me this really strange look as he stood next to Marty shucking his shirt and jeans. Pissed off and shamed into fighting, something else registered in that round face with the pale red stubble, something unreadable. Uncertainty? Plain old scared, maybe?

Wordlessly Marty grabbed Redbear by the hair and tugged him gently, throwing an arm around him in a hug and then walking away. His face mixed pride, anger, and relief.

So there we were Redbear in his white Fruit of the Looms and me in mine, face to face at last. Slowly I circled Redbear, judging correctly he was close to rage. I was right: snarling angrily Redbear suddenly charged heavily and I met his attack head-on. We locked up, my arms fast around his shoulders.

He went wild. He started trying to knee me but I had him locked tight and kept him at a distance, frustrating him all the more. When he realized I wasn’t an easy target he started wrestling. We groaned as muscle strained against muscle. I felt the raw power in this grappler as well as his anger, both of which he was using against me.

We were evenly matched in size and weight. Neither fell. We struggled, locked together, for a long time.

At one point Redbear tried to slip a headlock on me and when I prevented it he jammed his clenched fist into my jaw and pushed my head back. At that point I slammed a couple of fast punches into his gut; we separated as he moaned and doubled over.

Quickly seizing the advantage I jumped behind him, thrusting my arms under his and locked my cupped hands over the back of his neck. Stunned and angry, Redbear winced as I shoved his jaw down hard into his upper chest.

He was struggling to break my hold, trying to raise his large muscular arms, but I held on fast and kept the pressure on his head. He was groaning hard and loud as he fought with his powerful biceps muscles.

And then suddenly his rage turned white hot again and got hold of him, pumped more juice into his arms and his strength prevailed, his arms flew up forcing mine open and he broke free.

Redbear’s elbow jammed back hard into my gut and I groaned as my lungs expelled air. Using the moment of my incapacity well, he threw his sturdy arms around my back, locking hand to wrist and as rage poured out of his mouth in a virtual howl started grinding his red down and my dark brown fur, our sweat-slicked skins, our thick pectoral muscles against each other until our flesh nearly burned.

Our bodies crunching and grinding, Redbear’s rage was now set free. His dark eyes glowed wildly only inches from mine as he crushed our chests. Redbear’s arms were his major strength as a grappler but now I saw that his anger was in control of his brain. I was disadvantaged but let him flush out most of his strength. And I was used to bone-crushing bearhugs, so I took the pulverizing pain he was giving with gratitude and thensome. And he sensed something.

At that moment we recognized something common in each other.

When Redbear lifted my feet off earth I locked my legs around his thick gut and smashed his head as hard as I could with my arms. Stunned, he groaned loudly as he let go and we hit the grass. Redbear rolled on top of my leg as his hands clasped over the ringing pain in his head and then my thickly muscled legs closed tightly around his ribs and he shrieked in new pain. Sean had told me my thick legs were one of my strengths as a wrestler, but I didn’t want to drain all my energy at once so I let him have a couple of good hard squeezes. Redbear cried out as I released him, pushing him with my feet as he writhed at the pain I’d inflicted.

Standing up, my bearcub chest and belly heaved as my flushed lungs gasped for air. I suddenly realized that our two older bear brothers were nowhere in sight. Good old Sean and Marty knew it was me and Redbear, and we had to do fight it out alone.

"Enough ... ? Or ya want more?" I murmured.

Slowly Redbear got to his knees, clutching and massaging his gut. Both of us were anointed with the oily sweat and oil of combat.

Redbear didn’t utter a word, just looked at me grimacing at his pain, but also with another weird sort of look. And then all of a sudden his face broke out into this big, broad, almost beatific smile. It was the first time I’d seen Redbear smile and the unfamiliarity puzzled me. And yes, it even frightened me some.

Now on one knee, Redbear leaned on his thick hairy calf, breathing heavily.

"Goddam right I want more," he murmured.

Suddenly Redbear’s flashing eyes and sparkling smile unraveled the mystery of his smile, telling me what I needed to know and he needed to do. My own eyes must have been flashing back at him. It was now dark and we saw each other by the light from our cabin and a half-moon which reflected on the lake.

Grinning savagely at me Redbear was on his feet. I thought he was still rubbing his gut but his hands slid over his furry belly and slipped under the bands of his white briefs and he bent his massive trunk over as he yanked the underwear down over his legs and threw them at my feet. Redbear’s fleecy reddish-blond pubes enveloped the wide base of a fat bearcub dick which, now unbound, bounced up and down now in a jig of freedom.

Smiling, I yanked off my own briefs and freed my own hardening branch of flesh. Our hands circling around the base of our balls and cocks, each watched the other wag his cock in an ancient, primitive male rite of combat. Flat against each other, we filled our nostrils with the smell of each other’s breath and the sweaty odor of each other’s body. Low growls surged in our throats as our dicks slapped against each other.

The brief rite over we stepped back to rejoin battle. Redbear’s foot was suddenly flying toward my balls, but I jerked aside in time, grabbed hold of his bulky leg and yanked it skyward, upending him. Redbear fell back hard. Still holding onto his furry leg I quickly knelt, my back to Redbear and my other leg locked over his as I yanked his leg upward into a split.

Now he really yelped. Redbear pounded my back with his fists but I wouldn’t let go for a long time, and finally I decided to torture him a little more so I reached around with my free hand and grabbed hold of his balls and gave them a squeeze. A hard squeeze.

"You said more, fucker ... you got it!" I growled. And in agony he flailed his arms on the grassy soil, yelping and whimpering. I kept yanking and squeezing. Then I relented slightly.

"Had enough?" I demanded.

"More ... !" I’d heard that same rapturous tone many times by now. "I won’t give...!" I jolted his leg again, he squealed in the agony of sheer delight. My other hand let go his balls and felt around his cock, which was rock hard.

Suddenly I let him go and stood up. For a long moment I just stood and looked down at him lying on his back. Now I read plainly the look that was veiled earlier. I hurled my body down on him and quickly grapevined his legs.

My leg muscles throbbed in pain but there was juice enough pumping so I could pull his legs out into a widening ‘A’ while my thumbs dug into his throat.

"Give it up, fucker! It’s all over," I demanded as his face twisted in agony.

Whimpering but unwilling to give up, Redbear hammered away at my gut with his fists. I dug my thumbs deeper and waited, then let go his throat as he verged on passing out. Loosening the grip of my fatiguing legs, I pummeled and pounded away at his flanks and we swapped harder and harder body blows, rolling along the grass so furiously we never saw the lake until we slipped off the shore’s edge and landed in the water.

Redbear landed belly down under me, but I was able to get up on my feet in the shallow water as fast as I could before he pushed himself up, seized his wrists and jammed my foot into the small of his back. "Surf’s up, Redbear," I said, yanking his arms back, my foot upping the pressure on his back.

"Awwwrrrrrgh! Awh gawd!" Amid the howls I heard crackling of bone as he surrendered. "I give ... I give!" He slumped

Kneeling over Redbear’s limp body I splashed some water on his face and hair and patted him on the back. He lifted his head as I washed him and didn’t otherwise move or speak as I splashed my own face and chest. Then I stood erect and so did my bearcock.

Putting my hand out to him I said, "A good fight, Redbear. Thanks."

Redbear turned and took my hand in his and I pulled him up. As I started to let go of his hand he clenched it tighter.

"Thanks, Luke ... It was better than good. It was a great fight!" Redbear’s voice was now even and as smooth as the lake, all trace of the moody, angry, sullen kid gone. His eyes and cheeks were wet and it seemed like some load was lifted. Nor did he let go of my hand.

"I’m glad you beat me. I ... needed that. Long time coming. I’m a real asshole, huh?"

"Yup, you were." Shrugging, I smiled at him. "But what’s next?"

"How’d you know my secret name is Redbear? I never told anyone, not even Marty."

"Because it’s you," I chuckled. "Look at all this great fur." And I tapped his downy pecs with my knuckles, then let my fist rest against his pec; a light punch, another, and then I kneaded his furry skin. And with a trembling hand, he rubbed my chest, splaying his fingers and running them through my pelt, closing them and tugging my fur. Our eyes fell on our bushy groins.

"You got yourself a beautiful slab of manmeat, my friend," I said. "Thick, hard, and juicy."

"Just like ... your big dick, man. Shit ... ! and he drew my hand to his fat bearcock and I started to pump it slowly.

"I’ve never ... oh gawd!" His eyes shut as the stubble-coated young face twisted into a grimace of ecstatic delight. As another man’s hand slowly stroked the broad shaft of his pronging rod I sensed that Redbear had never released his raw sexual power like this before. His arms dropped to his side and his entire body trembled.

When Redbear’s eyes found my face again I nodded to him, and in perfect understanding his paw slid over my dick and he pumped my tool hard. The angry boy I had detested was now my equal in perfect trust as we each trusted each other with our own manhood, that which he fears to lose most given into his hand.

After a while I took my meat, swollen with blood and the hot bubbling of sap, and slapped it hard against Redbear’s cock; a sharp low moan erupted deep in his chest and throat. Redbear’s thick body quivered more violently with each succeeding slap of my hard flesh against his hard flesh. Over and over I slammed our bearcocks together.

"Fight me, Redbear. Fight with your cock man!" and finally he joined the fight, slapping back hard. We cock-fought for as long as we could stand it, both of us trembling in pleasure, until Redbear’s body shook violently hard and I felt his hot cream spray on my belly, and then splash in the hairs of my groin and my chest. As Redbear and I collapsed into each other’s arms I soaked down his body in return with the cream my own manhood.

Moments later, Redbear and I were at the door of the main cabin where two other naked bodies stood glistening with sweat and cum in the yellow lamplight. Tim went straight up to Marty.

"Excuse me, but my name’s Redbear," Tim said smiling broadly. "And this is my new buddy, Luke."

The two wet furball brothers clinched each other hard, and sobbed. Sean and I, locked in a bearhug, tasted each other with our tongues.

"Together, and against all comers!" I said, punching Sean’s gut and shooting a shit-eater grin at him.

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