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He rolls us over and I spread my legs, just in time. He presses them up and back with one hand and then brings them together, forcing my ankles to touch and securing me there in his grasp as he takes me rough and hard.
I moan out loudly, the pain mixing with pleasure, his cock moving with precision, hitting the perfect spot. I know I'm going to be sore as hell later. I don't care. I imagine any soreness I feel is going to threaten me with more orgasms as I mentally relive this moment just as for four years I’ve relived our week together from our first time as…
As what?
I can’t think anymore anyway because my orgasm is racing right up to the surface, and I can't believe it.
I can't believe it's this good. I can't believe it's this good because this situation is supposed to be a fantasy and not a reality for me. Nonetheless, it's not only the best sex in my life but it's the best sex I can even imagine is possible!
I realize my voice works at least in part because I'm screaming his name as he fucks me, and I scream it more loudly when another orgasm hits or maybe the same orgasm just gets stronger.
How long does this last?
Maybe it lasts an hour. Maybe it lasts a minute. Time has no meaning for me at all right now.
I'm not sure how long it lasts, but then, almost suddenly, he's cumming too, and I can feel his cum deep inside me. That really never happens for me where I can actually feel a man’s cum filling me, but I can feel it now.
I want to tell him how great if feels and give him an I'm so glad I found you again speech. That's what I'm thinking in my head, but I'm also so focused on my breathing and on my orgasmic aftershocks that I can't really do much but moan and try to catch my breath.
I'm also feeling a little nervous. I'm trying to be cool about this, but I'm still thinking about how I've known him for no time at all in the grand scheme of things and there’s a four-year gap between the first six days and this day, the seventh. Despite all that, even without conversation, just fuck him like some kind of idiot!
I don't know what I expect from him, but I'm caught off-guard by what happens next. He slowly lets my ankles go, and I wince as the blood rushes back to them. He rubs my legs and then puts a hand on my right breast and the other on my right shoulder, then gives me a long, deep kiss. I don't expect the gentle romance, especially after the rough fucking. It's beautiful, though, and he holds me like that for a long while.
I guess I ought to expect the next thing about twenty minutes later when he gives me more opportunities to scream his name in response to the orgasm or three exploding over my body.
Russel
I stare at the girl lying on the bed in front of me and wonder how anything can be so beautiful, so perfect.
I’ve mated with three different bear-women in my life, but those were meaningless couplings, a chance to release energy, nothing more. We parted immediately after the encounters.
This, though, is different. I want Melody again, and not just her body. I want all of her. For four years, that idea has flitted through my mind but as fantasy, as something I could never have. Now, though, she is back in my life and the thought of losing her is impossible.
It’s insane that I could feel this way about a woman I’ve known only for days and for those days to be split with a four-year gap. I know nothing about her. I know that she’s a particularly skilled hunter, although I don’t even know that. Possibly, she is only good at tracking and killing wounded animals.
I know her name, but the name means nothing to me. When she tells me her name, she looks at me expectantly, as though the name should have meant something to me, but whatever meaning it should have held for me is lost to me. I have little idea what goes on in the world outside my forest. I know that bears are still protected in this area, and frankly, I care to know little else.
It’s not that I dislike humans. It’s just that I prefer my life of solitude here in nature, the solace broken only occasionally by other bear shifters. Most of us are this way. Non-shifter bears are solitary unless they’re mating or raising cubs. Bear shifters are much the same. We just prefer to be alone. I even often resent my duties as alpha. Fortunately, since bears prefer to be alone, there are rarely conflicts between them that I must adjudicate.
But I no longer want to be alone. I want this woman with me, and I have no idea how to reconcile that desire with my nature.
I carefully get out of bed, trying not to wake her, and head outside. I walk until I’m hidden from view in a stand of elm trees. I can easily see the cabin from here, although when I shift to bear form, my sense of smell will be far more helpful to me than my sense of sight.
I shift and sit on my haunches. I breathe steadily and deeply and let the forest infuse me.
There are three other bear shifters within a few miles of me. Two are foraging. One is simply wandering. There are thirteen non-shifter bears in various stages of activity. There are no cougars. The dead one’s odor will have warned off the others. They won’t return for weeks.
The wolves, however, have converged on the dead lion’s body, nine of them, a rather large pack for non-shifter wolves. They are fighting over scraps.
A few hundred yards distant, an owl swoops low, looking for a mouse it has detected hiding under some leaf litter. It won’t find the mouse. The rodent is wise for its kind and patient as well. It will wait for the threat to move on, then continue to forage for nuts and berries.
Insects teem, their seemingly mindless ramblings part of a web of order—the organized chaos that is nature weaving its eons-old tale as it has many eons, as it will for many more.
Only a fool would claim that nature is unchanging, but in the softness of the night, it seems that way.
All the stillness in the world is not enough to calm my troubled mind.
Melody’s presence here presents a practical problem. She doesn’t know what I am, and she can’t know. It goes without saying that if bear shifters are discovered, then our life of peace and solitude is no more. Perhaps Melody would simply be dismissed as a raving madwoman were she to tell other humans of the men who can turn to bears, but she said her name as though she expected it to carry weight. Perhaps on the other side of my forest it does. Perhaps it carries enough weight that more humans would come looking were she to tell them of the magical bear shifter she encountered.
