Sometime around now, I discovered the Natural Bears Classification System, a code based on astronomical classification schemes. It was designed to let one identify various, optional physical and social attributes, each on a scale of 0 to 9 (9 being extreme). For example, “B” was the letter to describe beard quality; I gave myself a B3 for a closely trimmed beard.
I had previously seen a few of the codes posted on chat boards (this was a few years before the World Wide Web), and came up with my own:
B3 t+ g e r
Just because it appeared to spell "tiger," I deliberately arranged the letters out of alphabetical order. (The complete NBCS can be found online, if you want to look up what mine meant.)
NBCS was, for me, a mostly intellectual distraction and I didn't get to use my bear code very often, though I did occasionally hear someone refer to a man by an estimated “B” beard number—all in good, cruisy fun.
Even though I had discovered bears and the DC Eagle in real life, I was also still using GLIB and often logged on to see what was new on the bulletin board and especially to see if anyone had left me a message.
One day I did have a new message and excitingly, from a bear who lived fairly close by. We exchanged further messages and a couple of photos and before too long set up an in-person meeting.
Mateo turned out to be really handsome. He had a thick beard, bright eyes, and a broad muscular chest. I was (quelle surprise) instantly interested. As we got coffee and settled down to chat, we found we shared many interests such as biking and movies.
Over the next several weeks, we got together for coffee or dinner several times. But one afternoon he invited me back to see his place. Mateo lived in a high-rise condo with a long, narrow floor plan that made you think it was bigger than it really was. His bedroom was “way down” the hall from the living room and somehow felt very private, almost like a lair.
While he was showing me around his place, I started to grab playfully at his clothes and peel them off. By the time he finished the tour of his bedroom, he was down to his shorts and his dick was making a decent effort at trying to poke its way out. Mateo had a muscular hairy chest that I instantly loved and as we laid on his bed gently kissing, I kept running my hands over his chest, his hips, his legs. Oh, right; and I wasn’t wearing much of anything by this time, either. In fact, Mateo, while keeping his shorts on, had managed to get me completely naked.
Mateo was a top he said, and really wanted to fuck me. I still wasn’t sure I was into that, but Mateo was hot and anyway, I had been curious about bondage play ever since Brad Sir.
I got an idea.
I asked Mateo if he had any rope, and he did. Smiling, I laid back naked on the bed and explained what I was thinking.
Mateo more than got my idea.
Following up on my suggestion, Mateo smiled and gently turned me face-down on his bed, grabbed my ankles, spread them very wide. He tied each ankle to a corner of the bed and finished by tying my wrists behind my back with a bandana. Picture now, if you will, me as the face-down, living embodiment of the letter “A” and very conscious of my spread-wide ass.
And now that I was spread wide, Mateo took charge. He ran his hands slowly all around me, feeling his way under my hips, tugging my dick down between my legs and repeatedly snapping his fingertip on my sensitive cockhead or on, as he said with obvious delight, “your poor nuts.” I winced a little, unable to escape the bondage (I cannot tell a lie: I was in playtime heaven) as Mateo continued to dish it out. Yes, Sir, may please I have another?
And yet Mateo was anything but careless. Even as he unrolled a condom over his cock, he checked in with me, gently asking in my ear if I was OK and if I really wanted to keep this going. I said I was OK and (I didn’t say) I wanted his stiff manhood to just burrow in and take whatever pleasure it wanted.
Mateo moved over my back, and I felt his stiff cock poke against my ass, then press firmly as it found the right spot. His cock popped suddenly into me, then pushed in deeply, all the way up to his balls, then out, then in and out as he fucked me. His breathing got heavy, his hairy chest scrubbed into my back, until his body stiffened and his cum filled the condom inside me.
Mateo untied my wrists so I could stretch out my arms, but stayed there on top of me, his cock still buried between my spread legs, his chest warm on my back as he slipped his arms under my shoulders, his breath in my ear. Maybe it could be very nice, I thought, getting fucked, even with cleaning off the santorum.
Mateo and I dated for several months and having fun with sex, though our sexual relationship began to fade as he or I found others to play with. However, we stayed friends for many years. He turned out to be smart and creative, interested in the arts and theater, and also biking around DC or going to the Eagle for a drink and a chit-chat. I came to like Mateo a lot and might have even carried a bit of a torch for him.
After Mateo moved away, we occasionally heard from each other. I liked him and missed hanging out with him. In retrospect maybe I should have been smarter and tried harder with him—he was funny, witty, sexy, and loved the arts. In retrospect maybe I should have been smarter and tried harder with him. Years later I found out Mateo was married to whom I think is a lucky guy.
Aside: I want to add that I let myself get tied up in a vulnerable situation like the one described above only because Mateo and I had already spent some time together, emailed a lot, and I had gotten to know him.