The Dominant Russian Bear

By Dick Powers

The Russian bear - Wild Ivor Antonov - has arrived in LA with his sights set on becoming a top lady boy and finding an ultra-rich sugar daddy to fulfill his every whim. But, at 6'5, 350 pounds, this massive (in many ways) bearded cross dresser won't have it easy. Only through the help of a lady boy with a past and a few sex-addicted friends will success be had and the Russian bear have his way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lunatic Ink Publishing
• Release date: Aug 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005454432

Dick Powers

Dick Powers writes gay erotic fiction. He writes heterosexual erotica under Sophie Sin.

Book preview

THE DOMINANT RUSSIAN BEAR

Dick Powers

Copyright 2021 Lunatic Ink Publishing

More stories at Dick Powers' Book List. Find his male-female erotica under the pen name Sophie Sin

"Ivor came to America. Ivor want to be top lady boy in American pay sex market but big and hairy. How Ivor become top and marry sexy rich American at only 28 year of age? This the story."

Please note that this book contains lots of dominant bear play and some crazy lady boy behavior. Also, yes, Ivor talks like the above throughout the book. Have fun!

TABLE OF CONTENTS

You Are The Lucky One

Delivering Sex

A Bear In A Dress

Dreams Of A Paid Whore

Ivor’s Big Date

A Visit From A Man

One Crazy Night

Problems And Solutions

A Gay Wedding

YOU ARE THE LUCKY ONE

To Ivor, America is not Russia. America is brashly courageous when abroad and yet, also, terrified of its own shadow at home; it tries to portray a rational front yet is, clear to all, entirely unhinged. Ivor, for his part, thinks of it as a bent backed babushka squawking endlessly in knee deep snow about the past with a face coated in feces and a mouth lacking in anything but the remains of stained, broken teeth honed by unceasing grinding to dagger-like rotting fangs. She - this Land of Freedom - does not recognize herself in this visage, of course, as the mad cannot see their madness, but this is why Ivor loves the country: In her insanity she provides freedom and in Russia, for the gay, there is none of that to be had.

LA’s Club Alpha is loud, brash, sexy. Men dance: Their bodies mingling rudely, their lips sometimes locking together, their buttocks often gripped and squeezed, and, most lovey, their cocks openly massaged until climax. Each bass drop reminds him of the silence just before a Yugoslav antipersonnel shell punches through the mucky clouds, separating them like a child slapping a gum-booted foot down on a thin, slimy puddle of water, and lands on the soggy shithole that was his posting. The heat of those shells would crackle over his skin sometimes. They were like the orgasms these pretty men experienced, hot, wanting, desired, at the hands of their dance partners.

Ivor wanted an orgasm too. So many pretty men: Some with faces panted, others buff and tall - but never taller than him nor as big - and others very small and dressed like women. It was the latter he liked; the latter he wished to be.

He strode to one.

You are pretty.

His target stood among a gaggle of lady boys. This one looked up, up, up and found Ivor’s clear glacier blue eyes admiring him carnally.

You will be the lucky one for me. This is understood?

A prettier one forcefully squeezed into the six inches of space left between them, his little arms attempting a push-back, and Ivor noted the bright fire of passion in this better choice’s eyes. He had the complexion of a Mexican and the apparent passion of one too. Ivor liked this very much and smiled at him admiringly.

He’s taken, big fella.

Then you are lucky one now.

Ivor politely took a handful of blond, smooth, very real hair and lightly drew it downward at the rear. He wanted the attention of those husky browns and that was what he got.

I like small man. You don’t like me?

Their eyes held. The others were standing ready to intervene, yet their show of bravery changed little in the presence of one bigger and wilder than any bear in Russia: Wild Ivor ‘The Big Man’ Antonov.

I’m not a toy.

A toy is for playing. I do not intend to play.

A blush - springtime red on a browned face - split the features of the Mexican man-princess.

You cum. We talk.

I...

Ivor bent his head.

You cum?

Others saw. None acted. They awaited an answer.

I’ll come and talk with you. At the bar. Not here. The lady boy’s eyes were suddenly firm. It aroused Ivor. Politely, he was reminded. Ivor murmured back, Politely? It was neither agreement, disagreement or, perhaps, even understanding.

Alpha’s bar counter was under-ringed with rich white neons, had bottles glowing in a rainbow parade through artful illumination on crystal glass shelves, and was a very, very merry place. Handsome men and less handsome others laughed, joked and touched. This chatter was like the aftermath of a sonic boom to Ivor: Overwhelming, intense and cripplingly loud. He felt truly in a world where English only mattered. His mind was filled with words. Too many. Desperate, he ordered a beer, slammed it back and took the ladyboy in hand.

This too loud. You cum.

Hand-in-hand, they strolled. Five meters to the toilet, two meters to the stall, one meter to enter, 30 centimeters of room left from the rear wall to Ivor’s massive muscular back.

This tiny.

It was not. He knew this. However, 1 meter by 2 was not a big space for someone 6 foot 6 and 320 pounds. In fact, it was like being squeezed tight in a sardine can with not even space at the top above the added oil to breathe.

Your hand is up my skirt.

Yes, this is reason for being here.

Shouldn’t I, like, suck you?

Why? I say ‘you cum’. You don’t want to cum?

I...

There was a wetness.

Hmm... you easy. What wrong? Need another?

Ivor lifted the wild green, blue cross patterned dress, clicked his tongue and sighed.

Your girly panties are torn.

You tore them.

I know this. Let me make happy.

With the ease of a sculptor piling and plying clay in the village he came from, famed for its pottery, he worked both the small, hairless balls and the good length of cock the man had.

Jesus, you are breaking me, the man panted.

How does it feel?

It feels like my cock is stuck between two great hams and you are rubbing me.

Good. My hands are like hams. This is true.

Ivor smiled in a friendly manner and took the man by his thin neck.

I squeeze a little. Do not be afraid.

For a second the man was afraid. He then rolled his eyes back and shoved his hips forward and sprayed cum all over Ivor’s stock blue XXXL work jeans.

Pretty ladyboy is like fountain, Ivor joked.

The man slumped, collapsing into Ivor’s arms, and breathed for the first time in a count of 20.

My name is Phillip.

Like the prince.

Phillip laughed.

That’s about right.

Ivor took him under the arm and assisted him to his friends.

You will tell me of lady boys in America. Ivor wishes to be top lady boy in all of US and marry rich man. This is possible, yes? I hear your California make the gay marriage okay.

For a long time they talked. His true education began there.

DELIVERING SEX

Phillip had sluggishly came to at six in the morning and promptly thrown one lean forearm over his stinging eyes to protect them from the