Mankini Bearcub Ch. 01

A couple of months ago a lad called James I know at work pulled me to one side to show me something on his phone. I knew it was going to be a piss-take the way his mates were all sniggering and throwing glances at each other and it turned out it was the stupid mankini video which my missus had uploaded onto YouTube.

Maybe you've seen it: it was my 'Ice Bucket Challenge' filmed in August in our back garden. I'm there wearing the lime green mankini someone had bought me a few years earlier as a joke Christmas present, with my big beer gut sticking out and the kids getting the giggles. At the start of the video, I stand there like a total knobhead saying my nominations before Paula climbs up on the little fold-out step-ladder behind me and pours a bucket of water with a few ice cubes in it over my head.

My wincing and gasping should have been the end of it but the force of the water pulled the mankini down. For a couple of seconds you can see my titchy little dick and pathetic-looking nuts before I realise how exposed I am and quickly turn my back to the camera. That was probably the worst thing I could have done, because I end up showing off my big flabby arse until our oldest kid -- Kieran -- who was filming us starts laughing so much that the picture becomes blurred and shaky.

Anyway, I said to James, "Yeah, I've seen that loadsa times, mate."

But he just shrugged and was like, "Not this version, Bazza."

"How's this one different then?" I asked, wondering if one of the sneaky fuckers had re-edited it to zoom right in on my nads to make it even more obvious to all the sniggering gits how little I've got going on down there.

"It's the same video," James assured me, "just on a different website."

And that's when the first of his dorky mates couldn't help but blurt out a muffled guffaw, which quickly set the others off.

I looked at the website: something about 'bearcubs'. What the fuck was this?

"I don't get it," I said. "What's a bearcub?"

"It's a gay thing," James said totally straight-faced, while his mates were trying their best to cover their mouths as they spluttered and snorted even though it was obvious they were laughing at me.

"A gay thing? What d'ya mean?"

James would only say, "Take a look at the comments, Bazza."

He passed me his phone and I scrolled down to see what the video's viewers had written.

The first was from someone called toplad-82. I figured from what James had said that he must be some gay fella.

Stupidly I read his comment out loud: "Lovin this guy's big wobbly ass. Wanna rim it so bad."

That made the fuckwit mates laugh out loud.

"What's he mean he wants to rim my arse? How's that work then?"

Without so much as allowing himself a smirk, James told me, "He wants to lick your shitter, Bazza. Right between the cheeks."

I just stared at him. I couldn't believe it. Did gay blokes really do stuff like that to each other's' butts?

"This is a fuckin' wind-up, James," I said. "There's no way this is level."

"It's a real website," he assured me sincerely. "Just think, Bazza - there's a fella out there who wants you to sit on his face!"

"What, no shit?"

"That'd be between you and him, mate," James said without even the slightest amusement while his mates were falling about behind him.

I looked back at the phone and scrolled further down the comments. Most were just like, "So fuckin hot!" and, "Well horny!" but some bloke called bodmin_boy had said, "Lovely cute cock. Could suck that all night."

"Jesus, this fella wants to suck my willy!" I couldn't help but blurt out and, with his mates creasing up, James grabbed the phone and found a comment lower down.

"Look at what this bloke here wants to do to you, Bazza!"

I looked at the comment, written by todd*1991, and it read: "Most fuckable arse I've seen on here. Lube it up lads -- I'm going in!"

"What's he mean, 'lube it up'?" I asked. I realise now how fucktarded I must have sounded.

James' mates were just about pissing themselves while he explained, "He means he wants to pork your rump, Bazza."

I must have just stared at him like I hadn't a fucking clue and he went on, totally matter-of-fact: "He wants to prize your flabby butt-cheeks apart, smear KY around your arsehole and then give you a good fucking up it."

"This bloke wants to actually bum me?" I asked wide-eyed.

"That's right, mate. He wants to make you his bitch."

"Fuck me!" I gasped.

"Yeah, that's the idea," James nodded.

Do you know the weirdest thing about the piss-take they'd played on me? Well it's this: I had a raging hard-on by the end of it. Not that anyone could have guessed because it always gets lost among all the creases and folds in my baggy boxer shorts.

I suppose getting turned-on by reading stuff like that is only natural really. It's kind of exciting to think that other people might really want to suck your cock and lick your butt and do all sorts of sexual stuff with you that your wife would never do in a million years no matter how drunk she was.

I wasn't even that bothered that it was other fellas wanting to do stuff like that to me: the important bit was that they thought I was "hot" and "horny" and "well fit" and "super sexy"! Show me a man in his right mind who wouldn't get turned-on by that!

"So am I like some sort o' gay sex god or somethin'?" I asked James. His mates were just about on the floor by now they were laughing so much. I noticed Darren had snot hanging out of his nose and Nat was a scary shade of purple.

But James was as cool as a cucumber when it came to handling himself in a wind-up. He could stay totally convincing even when everyone around him was falling about.

"You're a bearcub, Bazza. That's why your ice bucket video ended up on this... er... specialised website. It's for guys who like other guys built like you."

"What, fat and hairy?" I chuckled.

"Exactly," he agreed, although I'd only meant it as a joke.

"Really?" I said. "There's fellas who like chubby blokes wi' hairy chests? I thought gays liked muscly types all tanned and waxed?"

"Evidently some of them like the more curvaceous and hirsuit figure, mate!"

I never asked James how he found my video on the bearcubs site. It was the obvious question but the sort of thing that would only occur to me days or weeks later.

What I do know is that when I got home that night and once we'd got the kids off to bed, I went back to that website while Paula was prattling away to one of her mates on the phone.

I had to trawl through loads of sites before I found it, mind. I couldn't believe how many there were -- James was kind of under-selling it when he said some gay guys liked the bigger and hairier types. There seemed to be hundreds of websites with blokes on them much fatter and hairier than me: some with amateur videos like mine but mostly with stuff that had been filmed as porn.

Eventually I found the right site and recognised the logo from what I'd seen on James' phone. I put in a search for 'mankini' and a thumbnail of my ice bucket video appeared in all its embarrassing glory.

Scrolling through the comments more methodically now that I was on my own, I found I became quickly turned on again from all the really sexy things these guys were saying about me. They genuinely found me seriously hot! If you saw me you'd laugh at that -- I'm really not a guy anyone would ever call attractive. My wife reminds me how fuck ugly I am pretty much every single day and the nicest comment anyone has given me in the last few years was that I have a look of James Corden. I mean, most men would be totally fucking mortified to be told they looked anything like that lard bucket, but I was well chuffed and couldn't stop smiling for a couple of days!

One of the guys on the site said he wanted to finger my "huge wobbly ass" -- which sounded weird but sort of interesting in a way -- and another that he wanted me on top of him riding his cock. I wasn't sure what that meant and I had to look it up, but when I clicked on Google images and saw what this bloke had in mind for the two of us, I actually took my knob out from my fly and played with it a bit.

To think that another fella wanted me squatting over his dick, pumping it with my big flabby arse! For some reason the thought of a bloke sitting at home imagining me doing that made my cock more horny than it had been in ages.

Still rubbing and squeezing myself, I read further down the comments.

"Imagine licking those cute little bollocks while he was wanking his tiny cock," one fella said.

It might sound weird but to me that seemed like the naughtiest of all the comments. I had to read and re-read it several few times to make sure that I'd understood it properly.

I couldn't believe that a guy would be okay with me jacking off while the two of us were doing sexy stuff. From the first time we coupled up in the back of her parents' Mondeo, that's always been a total no-no for Paula. I was licking her out and must have grabbed my dick to bash away at myself while I was enjoying where my tongue was, and she pulled off me and told me in no uncertain terms I absolutely mustn't do "that sort of filth" in front of her.

Wanking is something guys do when they're on their own, she'd said. Like pissing or taking a dump: nice lads just don't do stuff like that in front of a lady.

I'd nearly asked, glancing around as if in confusion, "So where's the lady?" but the seriousness of her face stopped me in my tracks. She was in no mood for jokes: she really didn't want to see me pulling my pud, no matter how turned-on I got from what I was doing to her.

I've been together with Paula well over ten years and by now the idea of wanking with someone else in the room seemed... well... scandalous, I suppose. Even more exciting than having someone licking my butt... even more mind-blowing than the idea of taking another fella's cock inside me!

Maybe that explains what I did next: I jerked off properly reading the rest of the comments. I kept scrolling down and clicking 'See more' and whacking my dick faster and faster as I read them.

They were just so fucking horny! Every single one of them said something nice about me, whether it was how sexy my huge stomach looked or how hot my hairy nipples were -- every comment was positive and so many guys said I how horny my knob was and what an amazing arse I had and how cute I looked blushing bright red when the mankini fell down.

I spunked up reading some guy's comment that he was also a big hairy guy and he wanted the two of us to lie in his bed together, face-to-face, kissing with our big flabby guts rubbing together and our chipolata dicks poking into each other. I don't know why it was that comment in particular that got me off. Maybe it was excitement from all the other raunchier comments that pushed me to the edge and that bloke's words just provided that extra bit of momentum. I don't know.

All I know is that I just kind of imagined being in bed with another fat bloke like me, both of us loving the fact we were big and hairy, and the idea of us kissing and poking our dicks together made my cock start spurting.

Funny thing to get a guy like me off, I guess.

There I was, with my kids asleep in their beds on the other side of the wall and my wife downstairs yacking on and on to her godawful friend, squirting my nut over some gay bloke's fantasies about my stupid mankini video.

Weird, I know. But that's how it happened.

Anyway, I felt pretty bad after I'd spunked and I went downstairs to give Paula a kiss, even though she was still on the phone. I felt like I'd cheated on her -- which was daft, I know, especially given what I did in the weeks following -- and I wanted to make it up to her.

I actually wanted to tell her how much I love her, but of course I couldn't do that because she was going at it non-stop to her friend and anyway it would have seemed really bizarre for me to just say something like that out of the blue.

So instead I went to watch telly which didn't last long because the baby monitor soon started up like it always does as soon as you sit down.

That night while Paula was asleep I had another wank. That's another thing she doesn't like -- me beating the bishop without at least asking her for sex. Paula reckons wanking for a married fella should be desperate measures, but this time I didn't even want to ask for sex: I just wanted some time for me and my hand.

So once she was asleep I toddled off to the bathroom. I took my t-shirt and boxers off and looked at myself from all angles in the mirror. I did have a fat arse, but it turned out it was attractive to certain men, and I did sprout hair in odd places, but that didn't make me look like a gorilla like Paula had once said.

I could see as well that my cock was indeed unusually small -- it was all the more obvious standing in front of a mirror like this -- but even that seemed to hold an appeal for some guys. Paula always joked that when God was giving out body parts, I was so stupid that I'd got mixed up when I'd been supposed to ask for a big dick and a small gut.

I squatted down in front of the mirror like I would if I was riding the fella who'd written the comment that had turned me on so much. I looked sexy like that, especially when I bobbed up and down, and I rubbed my dick hard and fast imagining I had another big flabby hairy bloke like me thrusting away underneath me.

It was a bit weird for me to be able to get boned up again so quickly after my earlier wazz off. Normally it takes me ages to recover after spunking up but tonight it seemed like my todger had a new lease of life!

When I was really into it, I got up and bent over so I could look at my arse through the mirror. Sticking my massive butt out like this was how the blokes had been thinking of me when they said they'd wanted to fuck me. With my elbow going full speed I peered at the sweaty hairy crack between my cheeks: that's what all the other bearcubs like me had been fantasising about sticking their knobs into.

I'd shot my wad bending over like that so my jizz went all over the bath panel and onto the little fluffy mat underneath it. It had taken me ages afterwards to clean it off properly with warm water and soap because Paula's got hawk eyes for the slightest mess I leave anywhere.

It went on like that for a couple of weeks -- sneaking a look at the website whenever I could wangle a free moment and afterwards tossing myself off at the computer and in the bathroom -- before I plucked up the courage to take it further.

By now I was getting bored with reading the same comments over and over and as the video was starting to get dated it seemed fewer people were looking at it.

So that's when I decided to make a comment of my own.

I signed up the site as 'mankini_bearcub' because all the other names I would have preferred had been taken, and I wrote simply: "Hiya fellas! I'm the guy in the video!"

After I'd posted the comment I just stared at the screen like I was expecting loads of replies to instantly come flooding in. I hadn't really expected anything, but I still felt a bit disappointed when nothing happened.

The next time when I was able to take a look -- a few nights later because I so rarely get a spare minute with everything else going on in our house -- there were also no new comments. Mine was still the newest one listed at the top.

Maybe no-one actually cares who the real bloke in the video is, I wondered. Or maybe all the men who'd been fantasising about me have moved onto newer stuff by now.

But then I noticed a little speech bubble with a number 3 on it down at the bottom of the screen. At first I figured it to be an ad but then it struck me as odd that I'd never seen it before, all the times I'd been looking at this site over so many weeks.

So I clicked on it and it turned out I had three private messages.

Nice one, Bazza, mate! Here we go...

All three were from fellas wanting to meet up with me. It probably sounds stupid -- my wife reckons most of what I say sounds stupid -- but it was only when I read the first message that I realised I'd had the idea of a hook-up somewhere in the back of my mind when I'd posted my "Hiya fellas!" comment.

I reckon that somewhere in my sub-conscious, I must have secretly wanted to meet up with one of these guys who were saying all this sexy stuff about me. I swear to God I hadn't really thought of it like that until I read that first message, but somewhere in the back of mind a plan must have formed to sneakily hook me up with one of them.

Anyway, all three messages were from men who lived miles and miles away from where I live. And when I say miles and miles, I don't just mean London or Edinburgh or somewhere I could have got to with a train ticket and a far-fetched excuse to keep Paula from going off on one.

One guy was in Quebec, another in New Zealand and the third was somewhere beginning with D which I can't even remember. It sounded Russian but when I looked it up it was somewhere even more bizarre.

The point is that I started checking the messages every spare moment I could and it was only a matter of weeks before a bloke called Todd showed up who was feasible for me to get to. I worked out that I could drive to where he lived in a morning and -- with a couple of hours for us to 'get to know each other' -- would get home only an hour or so later than I usually do. I reckoned I could blag it so that even Paula -- with all her constant questions -- wouldn't get suspicious.

Not that I felt I was cheating on her -- I still don't, to be honest. I was still happy to be the loving and devoted husband and the main breadwinner for her and the kids. I just wanted to do something for me for a change. And it wasn't like it was proper sex or anything deep and meaningful: it just seemed like a sort of passing interest as I saw it back then; just a bit of fun between me and another like-minded bloke.

As things panned out, though, Todd and I decided to meet up in a room at a Travel Lodge roughly halfway between where we lived. Not only did that make it easier for me, but he preferred it too because even though he was in his twenties he still lived with his parents. Inviting each other back to our own places just wasn't an option for either for us.

"Are you gay, Bazza?" Todd asked me once we were regularly messaging each other.

"No. Are you?" I asked him back.

"I'm not sure," he said. "Would it be a problem if I was?"

"Not really. As long as this stays totally non-serious for both of us. I don't think I'd cope with another bloke getting smoochy with me!"

"Absolutely," Todd had quickly agreed. "Like you, I just want some fun."

I asked him to send me a photo which felt was a bit weird to be honest. But he'd seen me in all my glory -- even seen my junk pop out from that bloody mankini for fuck's sake -- so it seemed only fair that I had an idea of how he looked.

It felt weird because I knew I was asking to see the face of the guy I was going to do sex stuff with. Like a date, maybe; or if not a date then at least a one night stand.

He asked me if I wanted a shot of him with nothing on. I said no, a selfie would do. It would have felt even more weird to start trading nuddie pics with other blokes.

I have to admit that I found the picture Todd sent me really attractive. He was fat -- but I knew that already -- and had a little goatie which he kept short. He had nice blue eyes and a really sweet smile and the first thing I thought when I saw what he looked like was, "Yeah, this is going to be really easy!"

What I mean by that is, I'd worried I was going to freak out when we met up. That the whole sex thing would seem too strange and scary for me to actually go through with and that I'd just get back in my car and get the fuck out of there.