Excerpts from:
Testosterone with a Twist of QRXZ

Military Papa Bear 2003-02-15 #678 boy

Bone Island Bears Grrrrrrr! QRXZ Boy received silk-screened words on the XXL T-shirt with his club admission and a drink stub to the bar 801. He slid the stub into his pocket. He slipped the folded T-shirt into his purple backpack next to the sketchbooks, some sharp pencils and fine paper leafs.

Bunched in a brawl at the bar were big bad Bears being loud and raucous with the younger cub. He laughed, thrilled with his initiation tonight. His fuzzy round torso lay on the bar, his head cradled securely in the furry arms of his black buddy bear, holding his position. Several bearded men held the naked cub as they poised cub boy’s fat uncut cock as the prime vessel for rum shots. A smallish teddy bear-sized man stretched the foreskin shot-vas for yet another round of foreskin shooters as the bartender filled the void with booze. QRXZ watched each man go down to find succulent delicacy as they extract the delectable nectars from inside the cock’s sheath.

QRXZ sees his next patron. The man stands isolated, silently proud surrounded by the throng of bar laughter. The artist sighted this man several times during the Fantasy Fests week. Every time he thought, “I seek attention from this man. Here’s to seeing more of him." QRXZ formed his lips with this thought. He dry kissed the crowded air before approaching.

The man held a rare imported bottled of beer in his left hand. The distinctive bottle was wrapped with suede sheath to protect his hand from the sweaty cold bottle. QRXZ boy could see the man took exceptional care of himself.
QRXZ observed that the man’s stance appeared defiant. QRXZ revaluated approaching this man as this time…no, the stance is dignified. The man’s substantial frame reaffirmed the boys desire for attention. Grandstand-shouldered, well proportioned for his height. He wore a flannel shirt, neatly buttoned up. Most guys will perspire heavily all buttoned up in flannel in such moist heat. I don’t sweat much, thought QRXZ, I wonder if this man’s true identity is ‘Dry’.

He carries his look dry-hot. The flannel shirt reveals lower neck fur. The dark hairline is cut straight horizontally below his clean shaved chin. Groomed full mustache, head hair, cut crew, short lines of silver reflect at his temples. Viewed like a silver point portrait that somehow takes a man to his boyish days when...

Imagine him. QRXZ’s imagination exposes the man outside and in. Buttons and sleeves will not leash the mind of the artist. The artist knows to unveil this chest will reveal an exceptional fleece. A most erotic moment, QRXZ sensed. This exposure has been practiced repeatedly in the mind. My charge is to see it real— my static lust brought me here to find him. A fine pelt of man-fur on the kind of man who can share it with another man. Dare my will to imagine what else he conceals, QRXZ Boy thought.

QRXZ approached the isolated bear man, introduced himself and made his DicDraw spiel with the twist stressing his desire to sketch a burly man’s hairy chest. The man replied, “I have been warned to avoid a boy who carries his backpack into a bar.”

“An artist is always prepared. They are my tools.” QRXZ said, “This boy knows to avoid a mentor teaching lessons which the student is not be prepared to handle. I make my choice. I sketched an image of you the other day while you waited to eat breakfast at Pepe’s restaurant. You eat alone. I am prepared to sketch you again now, if you have no plans to meet someone this evening.”

“Son, I noticed you sketching me.” He said.
“I call all the bears hairy, before I am told their names.” QRXZ joked.
“Call me Lance,” asked the man.

“What will you a drink?”
“Coke with lime for me please,” QRXZ replied. He gave the man his red drink voucher. “You may also verify my credentials with this bartender when you order. He is an artist and owns one of my Bear DicDraw sketches.”

The two men walked out of the bar together after they had negotiated terms for the evening.

The third floor deck balcony of the guesthouse overlooked shrubby vegetation and the pool. He opened French doors to reveal his bedroom suite, but the man reclined outside in his wooden deck chair. The night air feels balmy. Thought QRXZ. We sat.

“Can you do this sketch by moonlight?” Lance asked.

“Yes Sir. I perceive radiant body heat. I translate energy through this pencil. Relax. You will perceive yourself as line on paper through my vision. Sir! Do tell me. The moonlight will affect the length of your chest hair this night?” QRXZ asked, then added, “I know you are more wolf than bear."

“How do you want me? Master Artist.” Lance asked.

“Just as you are on the deck seated like this. Oh, let me undo the next button. Your position is perfect. Nice chest hair. You may speak while I sketch, but hold your position.” QRXZ said.

A tranquil silence between them ensued. Night creatures, breezes pushing leaves, the sounds from the parties on Duval Street, all dissipated for the artist, except for the erotic scratching of pencil against itching paper. Then the moment ended. QRXZ held out the sketchbook opened to the drawn page for Lance to view.
“I will get my glasses.” Lance said. He stood and took the book with him through the French doors into the lighted room while QRXZ remained seated. “ Your image of me is very good.”
“Yes it is,” QRXZ stated. “Does this please you, may we create more?” The artist asked. He remained seated.

“I have rented this top balcony suite for 7 consecutive Fantasy Festivals. The location within this compound is secure and I sleep with those doors open.” QRXZ watched the man’s reflection from the glass of the open door as he listened. The artist observed Lance as he removed his shirt, hung it neatly on a hanger, the man purposefully moved out of view. “So boy desires to create a sketch of my big furry chest.” He said. “Ok son bring your materials in here.”

QRXZ noticed as he entered the dim lit room that the model had stripped off his shirt, reclined on the bed, right elbow bent to prop up his head. The object of desire self-positioned his assets, emphasizing the chest. A white beach towel wrapped meticulous and secured around his waist and legs. It pleased the artist to affirm that this man would model.

Lance mentioned his background. Retired military. He kept his military physique fit. His seed would generate beautiful children, QRXZ thought. He had not mentioned a wife. Some fine pecks and abs support that spiraling mystique hair. Shapes. The man is a beau. The hair a luxury. Astonishing patterns showed above the towel. The towel concealed his navel and below. No navel, thought artist, so confirm me a nipple man. The pulse pumped the lats. The model’s heart beat strong, his breath stealth.

“A man like a rare cognac,” QRXZ thought. He stood to experience the attitude of this man. The artist evaluated the intent of such a seduction. “ Better sip slowly, or best to take the aroma only.” QRXZ draws.

The hour created exceptional sketches for the artist and this model. The artist saw the effort was good. The session ended when QRXZ moved to share his finished work and Lance prevented the artist from showing the new images.

“Don’t show me these. I do not want to see them yet.” Lance said. “No concern. I know that you do fine work. You’re an exceptional talent. You shall be compensated for your time and skill. You and I both desire strong memories to add to our treasures. You and I begin with these sketched studies. I commission your talents to create for me an erotic memory. We should discuss the commission in the morning. Have you a alternate resting place—that is safe— for tonight?”

“Oh, yes Sir, I have in my pocket here the key to the main home of a million-dollar estate on Margaret Street. It’s called it The Cats’ Eyebrow on the National Register of Historic Places. I will complete this portrait of a conch house before I leave Key West. I can take the energy you give me to create. I scheduled a 9:00AM appointment for tomorrow morning. Coffee at French bakery around the corner comes early.”

“I suspect that you travel safe through diversity in this world,” Lance said. “For now son, come here and cuddle with papa.” The man opened his arm. “You sleep here tonight. Awake in time for breakfast and your other appointment. Comprende?”

“You read me well, Sir. You sense the desires I have. You know I carry these thoughts and images. Do you have a real son?”

“Boy, you use much time wanting to relate with somebody. Enjoy because you create the moment.”

“Yes Sir. I stay through breakfast. I need a nightshirt, so I can wear this shirt again. Do you have an extra one that I can wear?”

The man got up from the bed removing his towel to reveal hunter-green, Suede boxer shorts. The cut of laced shorts also concealed the navel and it seemed unusually high. QRXZ began to mention it but the thought diverted.

The Man said, “here boy. Here, wear this ‘wife-beater, it’s clean.” He threw a thin white ribbed tank top.

“What did you call the shirt? ‘Wife-beater’?” QRXZ asked. The artist removed his shirt to try on the small thin white cotton tank top.

“Wife-beater shirt! Yes. I’m told—the more it’s stained— the more it’s valued. Some men exploited their treasured memory.” He said. “I do not beat my wife.”

“The aroma intoxicates. It is my size. It’s clear you don’t wear this shirt.” QRXZ stated.

“Ah yes,” the man replied, “and it fits you superbly. My pleasure to see that you dress down well. Son, you make a good-looking man. The shirt belonged to my stepfather. I remember there were five of them.”
“Five?” QRXZ Questioned.
“He died. Don’t spill sentiment for a autocrat you could not know.
I tell you this—I did not beat my wife, or my boys. Not the way my step-father beat us.”

QRXZ maintained silence while he folded his pants neatly. The wife beater shirt he tucked smooth under the hem of his boxer briefs. The man the artist climbed next to in bed was ready to snuggle. QRXZ’s deliberate motion placed his face deep in chest fur. The man cradled the artist with his right arm and with his left reached for the light. Click, Then dark.

The two men slept.

Exploration between men continues through dream.

QRXZ dreamed—twilight silent.
QRXZ Boy glanced at the physique on the bed—a man watching him—he dreamed a voice, " There on the bed he wants me." So the artist assumed his position as a jumble of line alongside the body of this figure and they settled into an embracing snuggle. QRXZ immediately pressed his forehead into this mans’ grand furry chest that tickled his nostrils. He breathed in through his nose, remembered the aroma, and released a sigh.
.
The man’s arm came around to cradle the art. Click, Darkness…and Lance commenced the hand strokes—an assuring motion on QRXZ’s head.

Breezes enter the open doors. Reflecting moon makes tranquil shapes lacking color. QRXZ reciprocates gracefully by fondling lines of fur.

QRXZ announces, "You are a dry man. You make a dry lover. Some men get moist, when excited—they ooze uncontrolled like dogs from one orifice or another—bell-ringing-glandular-drippy-faucet-play. You do not sweat, very similar to my skin. Your skin is dry like fine paper. Skin this pleasing is rare to find. May I thank you for sharing yourself, your skin, and your hair— your bed with me this night. Mentor me."

Delirious mix of old and new erotic images fired through the artist’s brain. The peace of the moment prior to fully waking connected old thought to new thoughts. Thoughts of pressure released, more than a reason to question such an orgasm.

Wet Dream? A physical pressure released from him. The belief persists, even while in dream, that the sperm with the semen has got to be released from the system, not only to reduce the constant increasing pressure; but also to be expelled before this fertile “man-goo” is reabsorbed to impregnate the male physique. Dry-well sperm is caustic, like a poison. The consequence of self-absorbed semen is this spontaneous male conception. Dry men do self-impregnate, so release the semen.

“Is it true” the voice asked, “that a caesarean section is the only option for a man to birth when carrying a child to full term.” “Do YOU presume that every man’s accomplishment, once learned, can be done solo?” “You take an idea that is so light and fun, to make it dark and…." QRXZ awoke. He knew this phrase from another situation, but he heard words from the man in bed next to him—something different.

Ric, the editor, knows some habits of this artist.
Anticipating QRXZ Boy is arrival early in the morning, Ric, the editor, positioned himself with coffee, two croissants and the local newspaper. “I enjoyed QRXZ’s laughter in New Orleans. That is his laugh and voice, I hear across Duval Street. He is with a man. That sound excited my loins— I tingled with anticipation for the next story to be revealed.

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