Bear Fucking: Bruising, Brutal Man-on-Man Sex

By Tosh Turner

Hot and hairy 'Bear sex'; hard men and hard sex with a trucker and his greaseball mechanic. Hank's rig breaks down in the middle of nowhere late at night, and to make things worse he can't get a signal on his cell phone to call for help. He's stranded.

He manages to get into the nearest town and arranges for the truck to be collected and repaired. It's going to be an over weekend stay, at least four days, whilst waiting for parts to arrive. He's put up in a local motel by Jerry, the mechanic, They share a few beers together over a couple of nights, get friendly, and then BANG! Bear sex at its hardest, most brutal imaginable. No niceties, no hearts and flowers, just violent bear-on-bear hardball pig sex.

Hardcore xxx gay sex graphically written to arouse and satisfy. Detailed, hard and explicit and aimed at broadminded adults and over 18's only. Looking for something special? Something that won't disappoint? You just found it!  One handed reading guaranteed. Scroll down to order now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tosh Turner
• Release date: Feb 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393708957

Book preview

Bear Fucking

Bruising, Brutal Man-on-Man Sex

Hank Turner was tired, damn tired, he had just finished a triple leg run and was on his way home to Detroit. He hated multi leg runs; they were the angst of every big rig trucker on the road. He had just made this one from Detroit to Atlanta, then Atlanta to Memphis, then Memphis to Kansas City and now he was heading home. He fixed his eyes on the road ahead, he was smack dab in the middle of Indiana and there was nothing around him for miles except corn, corn and more corn. The mile marker said 121. He sighed to himself and continued to let his mind wander; he turned the radio up and lost himself in the classic rock CDs that he had laying on the passenger seat beside him. He was driving naked from the waist down; the Damn AC was out in the truck again it was hot as hell in the cab. That was due in part to the fact that the big diesel pumped out a lot of heat and in part to the fact that the temp outside was topping over 85 even in the dead of night. He didn’t wear underwear. He never saw any need for it, it didn’t really matter as no one could see into the cab of the rig anyway and he liked the feeling of the cool wind from the outside blowing through the open windows and flowing over his hairy body and heavy hanging manhood. He had only travelled another few miles when he felt the first twinge of something not being right. The steering was getting tighter and the engine had developed a slight thump every 30 seconds or so. He didn’t think anything of it at first, it was an older rig and there were bound to be some gremlins in the system. Another mile or so and the lighting on the dashboard control panels started to dim, the radio cut in and out and the AC started to whine.

Fuckin' hell, please, not here! he pleaded with the dying 18 tractor truck. He had no place he could go, the shoulder was non-existent, there was nothing around for miles and the clock, before the radio died completely, read 3am. He tried to push it gently a little farther hoping that there would be something come up that he could make it to. Suddenly a road sign appeared over the next rise. The sign stated ‘ROCKPORT 18 MILES’ and indicated that gas, food and lodging would be available there. Hank groaned, deep in his heart, despite his best wishful thinking he knew the damn truck was not going to make it another 18 more miles. He kept it going, coaxing it along gently till it gave a loud grinding sound up to the highway gods and died, the dash lights cut out and Hank was left sitting with a dead truck, in the middle of the road in the black of night and at least 15 more miles to the nearest help he could expect to get.

He sat in the dead and dark truck for a minute cursing at the evil machine under his breath. This was just another kick in the balls. He had been chasing bad luck on this whole trip and now it seemed that his efforts at dodging it so far had done nothing but piss off the fates bad enough for them to royally screw him. He slammed his fist into the steering wheel and let out a primeval scream before he reached over and aggressively grabbed his pants from the passenger seat