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If you had asked me about Johannes Kaufmann when I was younger, I would have told you that he was the coldest, meanest old bear I had ever met. All I could gather about him during my adolescence was that he had attached himself to my family for reasons I could not ascertain, and that he had all the bitterness one might come to expect from a bachelor well past the prime of his life.

For the longest time I had wondered what it was that made his unpleasantness such an immutable part of his being. From what rumors I had heard before, he had gotten along famously with my grandfather while studying under him in the world of business. My father and I did not manage to foster such a rapport with the bear, however. The most that could be said favorably of our relationship with him was that he was loyal to the Vulpes name, even if he did harbor a quiet hostility for its male descendents.

Family tasks, finances, and business ventures both large and small were often managed by Johannes, and more often than not he took it upon himself to do so unbidden. This was certainly not unwelcome. My father was a sharp fox, but he could not hope to maintain the empire that my grandfather had helped to build without some considerable assistance. Even our home had a sizable staff that was minded to by the old bear. He was always diligently watching over our assets and investments, making certain that we could maintain our extravagant way of life while seeing sizable returns.

It became somewhat conflicting to know that the same ornery beast who had roared and shouted at me for daring to bother him as a child had made my life of expensive hobbies and my even more expensive education a possibility, but I managed to put that contradiction out of my head. There was enough travelling abroad to be done and there were enough closeted Princeton boys to be stuffing myself into that I simply could not spare the time to think too deeply on the matter.

The death of my parents brought Johannes back into the realm of unavoidability, however. The loss of my mother and father was a grotesque tragedy, but it was also laced with the sobering dread of the old bear's presence in my life. My parents' passing had made me the last remaining member of the Vulpes family, which meant that that Johannes now answered to me; a fact that I did not relish by any means. My father had become quite adept at handling him over his years, and their relationship had become professional, if not amicable. I did not know if I could manage the same.

But my apprehension could not be applied to the reality of the situation. I had no choice but to return home. As much as I would have loved to continue my life of waiting for deposits into my bank account, it was my turn to begin signing off on the paperwork and start cutting the checks.

My first week back in the family home was a strange one. My surroundings felt quite surreal as I struggled in my mourning and suffocated under the weight that had been suddenly hoisted upon me. I began to wander about the house, recalling memories from days long past, stumbling across rooms that I had not explored since I was little in the process. I did my best to avoid the service staff, as I quickly grew tired of listening to them apologize over and over again for my loss. In a strange way it became a fun sort of game, and I began to re-learn the outlay of the house and the routines of the maids to keep myself more or less unseen.

There were a few rooms that I left out of my childish antics at first, particularly those belonging to Johannes. But I grew restless and bored in my melancholy state, and I had seen very little of the old bear. I knew he was likely busy arranging the necessary paperwork and ironing out the finer details in the execution of my parents' will, and I decided that I should take advantage of that fact.

My first target was his office. I had quickly learned as a child that so much as poking my head into Johannes' office meant a stern, threatening lecture from him and a long boring discussion with my father about how I should respect the bear and leave him to his work. Keeping that in mind, it was extraordinarily satisfying to strut into that room and slam the door shut behind me. It was my home at that point, after all. I figured that if that old stick in the mud didn't want me walking around in any of the rooms that rightfully belonged to me, he could take his tacky old desk and all of his books and move his sorry ass out to his own private residence.

The fact that Johannes would be upset itself began to drive me forward. I had to explore every little inch of the room that was once forbidden to me, entranced by the new sense of freedom that came with my boldness. I must have pulled every dusty tome off of his numerous bookshelves, searched every drawer, and inspected and handled every old photograph of his--many of them of my grandfather and the bear. I was surprised at how much I looked like the old man, and even more surprised at how young and happy Johannes looked in most of them. He was almost unrecognizable without his trademark scowl or the patch of gray that was quickly spreading across the entirety of his head fur.

Finally sated in my curiosity, I sat myself back in his office chair and placed my feet up on his desk, smiling to myself in my own smug satisfaction. I had nearly gotten up and left before I noticed the tiny seam hiding an extra compartment on Johannes' desk. I had imagined at first that it would be where he had stashed a personal drinking flask, seeing as how the old bruin had always struck me as the type to be a secretive drunk. My plans to partake in Johannes' private reserve were cut short, however, when I found myself presented with a bundle of wrinkled letters yellowed with age rather than any form of alcohol.

I thought at first that they must be more business documents. Old stocks and bonds, correspondence with former business associates, that sort of thing. But as I leafed through them, I realized they were personal letters between Johannes and my grandfather. That fact alone did not surprise me by any means, but I was overcome with the realization that those letters were the first truly personal thing I had found in the office. Aside from the old photographs, they were the only indication I had that the bear had a life outside of shuffling paper around and being an ornery old grump.

The first few letters were nothing particularly special, but intriguing all the same. Their contents were professional, but also very friendly, and Johannes' language was filled with admiration and gratitude towards my grandfather. I could hardly contain my smile as I explored this past life of his, skimming over their exchanges. I skipped most of the boring parts relating to markets and money, but their more casual conversations proved to be quite amusing.

Things took a turn I was not expecting, however. I stumbled over a sentence and found myself reading it over and over again, still unable to comprehend it despite the complete and utter lack of ambiguity. The words were obviously written with a nervous hand, but their meaning could not be misunderstood.

"I love you, Mister Vulpes."

That simple, stark declaration stood in clear defiance to my knowledge of the world. It was preposterous, profane, sacrilegious. The thought of that old codger loving anyone was an idea foreign to me, but to imagine him being in love with my grandfather was beyond my capability. All I could do was read on, taking up the next letter in an effort to help resolve the conflict and ease me out of the shock I was feeling.

Reading the response from my grandfather only furthered my sense of turmoil, however. It seemed as though he returned Johannes' affections quite readily, offering up his own admission of love as well as his next opportunity to meet with the bear. From that point onward I could not read the letters fast enough, devouring every last scrap of Johannes' relationship with my grandfather. The subject matter became quite heated, and more and more of the content of the letters centered around how they missed one another, and they often went into excruciating detail regarding the lewd acts they wished to perform on one another or had performed with one another in the past.

The confusion that washed over me was only compounded by the awkward arousal I felt delving into that incredibly personal and outright dirty exchange of messages. To think of my grandfather and Johannes as savage lovers was an utter contradiction to the image of the men that I held. I had an impression of my grandfather as a somber, quiet old fox who was married to his work--especially after the passing of my grandmother-- while Johannes was Johannes.

But then there was something unsettled me more than the descriptions of sex and more than the knowledge that my grandfather had a homosexual affair. Johannes had included a number of poems in his letters, and each one of them was beautifully written, both in their caligraphy and in their content. They were sweet and tender, and I found myself nearly tearing up over more than a few of them. I even felt somewhat jealous towards my grandfather. No boy had ever written me so much as friendly email after our encounters, much less a romantic sonnet in delicate, practiced handwriting.

Nearing the end of the stack of the letters, however, the language started to become much more terse and much less intimate. At times it even became angry and resentful. Johannes seemed to think that my grandfather was putting distance between them, and by all rights he was. I suppose the public eye had begun to glance in my grandfather's direction as he expanded his fortune, and being a bachelor with a "close" relationship to one of his male business associates would have done him no professional favors under such scrutiny. Old Man Vulpes decided that the best course of action would be for them to end their romantic relationship, and that he would be publicly announcing his engagement to the woman that would become my grandmother.

Now, I tried my best to be rational as I read along. It was all past history, and none of it could truly be considered of my concern. And even if it was, I told myself, if it weren't for my grandfather's decision I wouldn't even be alive, much less living in the lap of luxury. Moreover, being in an openly gay relationship would have most certainly cost him his wealth, and it may have very well ended up costing him his physical well-being or even his life in the long run.

None of these justifications could smother the anger I felt, however. Learning about the injustice of my grandfather's betrayal broke my heart. I could only imagine what it had done to Johannes at the time, and the toll it must have taken on him over the years. He had spent most of his life serving and supporting the family of the man who had emotionally deserted for whatever insane reason. Perhaps it was out love he still held for my grandfather. It may very well have been out of sheer habit. But regardless of his motivations, I knew that deserved much, much more than he had received in his lifetime.

I spent a good few days mulling things over. I walked the grounds, I paced the halls, and I even sat on the dock over the pond to try to recall one of my old flame's lectures on meditation that I had sat through in an effort to get into his pants. I was desperate for answers. Johannes had gone from being a threatening nuisance to a sympathetic victim in the span of an afternoon, and I had no idea how to make use of that sudden revelation other than as a distraction from my grief.

Johannes' return to the house strengthened my resolve to do something. I knew it would be awkward and unpleasant, but I had to find some meaningful gesture, some act of good will to show my support to the old bruin. I couldn't turn back the hands of time and alter the choices my grandfather had made, but I could damn well let that bear know what he was worth. At least, that was my naive goal at the time.

It took me a good afternoon of staring at the ceiling, but I finally managed to come up with an answer: my grandmother's engagement ring. My father and mother had given it to me some time prior, intending for me to used it "when the right girl came along". I had accepted it without informing them that it would likely never find its way onto a woman's finger; a fact that was reinforced having learned of its legacy. I would not be repeating my grandfather's mistakes.

I marched into Johannes office with all the bravado I could muster, that little velvet box clutched tight in my paw. He looked out over his papers at me as I barged inside, pulling his reading glasses off and letting out a deep, tired sigh.

"Christopher, I will call for you when it is time for us to speak. Until that time, would you please allow me some time to work in peace?"

It wasn't hard to tell that he was restraining himself. He almost certainly wanted to yell at me and shout me out of his office. But I had no intention of leaving without getting some small sense of relief. I strutted right up to his desk and set the ring box down, sliding it across the polished surface towards the old bear. He looked at me as though I had grown a second head.

"What is this, Christopher?"

I nodded towards him. Towards the box.

"It's yours."

He wrinkled his nose and took the thing, reluctantly opening it before snapping it shut. His frustrated expression turned to one fast approaching contempt.

"I will repeat myself. What is this, Christopher?"

I folded my arms indignantly as I stared him down. "Like I said, it's yours. It belongs to you. You do whatever you want with it. Sell it, throw it in the river, I don't really care."

There was a long pause. Johannes rubbed his temples, his old brow wrinkling as I dragged him to his wits end.

"Christopher, I can understand having difficulty dealing with your parents' passing, but may I please request that you hold off on experimenting with any more drugs until things begin to stabilize around here?"

I deserved that assumption. I had that reputation. Had I not found those letters, drugs may have very well been the next thing I turned to in order to ease my grief. But at that moment I could not have been more sober.

"It should have been bought for you in the first place. You were cheated."

His ears perked up at that. He sat up straight and planted both of his paws square on his desk. He looked ready to leap over it at a moment's notice.

"What in the hell are you talking about?"

"Your relationship with my grandfather. You were the one he should have proposed to."

Johannes looked down at his desk, then back over at me, a look of horror on his face. Then one of familiar rage.

"Get out," he growled.

"But--"

"Get out, now. Leave. I won't have you in here violating my privacy any more than you already have."

The room seemed to shake with his voice, and I was quickly reminded why I feared his presence as a child. I had intended to be stalwart, to stand my ground and confront the bear as an equal, but my legs quivered underneath me, and my throat grew hoarse. I knew that there was nothing more I could say, nothing I could do to disarm the explosive temper that I had just activated. And so I retreated, scurrying out of that office and back to my room to hide from the results of my own foolishness.

I spent more time staring off into space. I may have napped a bit, although time seemed like such a fleeting concept that I couldn't say for sure. I was trapped within my own thoughts, wondering how I could properly communicate with Johannes without further enraging him. I wondered how I could reach the sweet, delicate bear that had written all of those passionate letters and poems. I wondered if Johannes had written any poetry since being spurned, and if he would be willing to write any in the future.

I wrestled with a new and somewhat confusing thought: I began to wonder if he would ever be willing to write any for me.

It was strange. I had spent most of my time attracted to men around my own age, but I could not deny an intrusive, creeping desire for closeness to that old bear. Perhaps it was motivated by loneliness; Johannes was effectively my only family member left, after all. Or perhaps I felt a different sort of kinship. I had always held a sense of dread about coming out to my family. I was absolutely certain that they would not handle it well. But to see another gay man chewed up and spat out by one of my relatives and show him compassion and acceptance; perhaps I thought that would be a way of extending those things to myself as well.

Regardless of the motives behind my feelings, I had to explore them. I stepped out of my room once more and padded my way down the dark hallway to the bear's room. I creaked the door open only to find his room unlit and his bed empty. I sighed in defeat, knowing that I would have to once again dare to tread into that office.

I expected more yelling when I entered. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had decided to throw something at me. But there was no yelling. There were no threats of violence. Johannes was subdued--morose, even. His chin rested on his arm as he leaned over the desk. He held an empty glass in one paw, turning it idly as he stared right through his half-finished bottle of cheap liquor.

I approached him, and he offered no protest. The fur on his cheeks was thoroughly stained with his tears, a sight that nearly made me choke up myself. I hesitantly placed a paw on his shoulder, rubbing it gently as I tried to make eye contact.

"Johannes..."

He responded only with a dejected grunt, looking up at me from the corners of his eyes.

"I'm sorry. For everything. For snooping. For being a little... a little shit as a kid. Hell, for being a little shit as an adult."

He frowned, and more tears streamed down his face. He shut his eyes tight as though trying to hold them in, but they came pouring out all the same.

"I just wanted to tell you that you deserve a lot more than that ring. Honestly, I think you deserve this whole house. God knows I didn't contribute a single cent to help pay for it."

I stopped for a moment to pick up that bottle and tilt it back, taking a quick swig. I nearly gagged at the strength of it. The bear began to sit up, the fur on his muzzle matted to the side from his moping posture. He rolled his chair back a bit and turned towards me, his head swaying from side to side. I gave a half-hearted smile.

"And you deserved to be a part of this family. We all just treated you like a nanny for our money. I treated you like a boogieman half the time and an ATM the other half. Dad treated you like a personal assistant, even though you were the one doing all the real work."

I took another drink, looking away from the bear.

"And what'd Grandad treat you like? Fucking garbage. Taught you how to shuffle paper around, lead you on, then cut you loose to keep a handle on his money. Didn't even treat you like a business partner, he just hoisted more and more work off on you while pocketing the profits. He was an asshole."

A deep, throaty growl prompted me to tense up and set the bottle down. I looked towards the door, planning for an emergency escape. A sober Johannes was scary, but predictable. I had no experience with him drunk.

"Don't you dare talk about your grandfather that way! He was... He was..."

The bear hung his head in his paws, his lips quivering as he began to sob quietly. I stood there for a moment, not knowing what to do. Seeing him just break down into into a pathetic, weeping wreck utterly disarmed me. I wanted to comfort him, but I couldn't imagine how. Would he lash out at me again if I tried? Was it even my place to try to bring him solace?

Then he looked up at me with his big green eyes. They were tired, they were burdened, and they were clouded with his tears, but I was still overcome by a beauty in them that I had never managed to see before. Despite our difference in age and despite my childhood memories of him, I knew in that moment that I wanted him. It drove me to act selfishly and recklessly. My urges took hold, and they were rewarded.

I came in close, placing both of my paws on his shoulders as I leaned in. Our muzzles brushed together, and I readily inhaled the overpowering stench of alcohol on the bear's breath. He was understandably perplexed.

"Christopher, I... Are you... I don't..."

I tilted my head and pressed my lips to his, parting them only slightly at first. He quivered at that gentle kiss, and for a moment I thought he would push me off. Instead, his massive arms came to wrap around me and pull me to his chest. I don't think I could have pulled away even if I had wanted to, but leaving that warm embrace and letting the kiss fall short wasn't on my mind.

The kiss escalated in passion quickly, our lips smacking together noisily as Johannes began to make out with me in earnest. Our tongues met inside of our muzzles and they danced and wrestled with one another. Paws began to wander and grope, and I must say that I took a great deal of pleasure in exploring his body. I was used to the lean and lithe physique of my peers, but that new, uncharted territory proved exciting to my fingertips. I could certainly feel the strong, brutish muscle under his hide, but even the additional padding added by his rather thick layer of ursine fat was pleasurable to the touch.

He began to protest as I started to unbutton his shirt, grabbing weakly at my wrists in a half-hearted attempt to stop my advances.

"Christopher, I can't..."

I did pause for a moment. It wasn't my intention to force myself on him.

"I'll stop if you really want me to."

He didn't respond. I looked him dead in the eyes, putting on my best stern-yet-seductive expression.

"...but you don't want me to stop, do you?"

He seemed to wrestle with himself for a moment, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. I could take no amusement in his discomfort, however. I knew exactly what he wanted, and how he wanted it. It had all been spelled out for me when I had unearthed his letters. I would have to pick up where my grandfather left off.

"Chistopher... I..."

"Mr. Vulpes," I corrected him. He seemed to ignore it, but I could see him shudder.

"Christopher, I can't. Your family... I couldn't subject their name to this kind of scandal if it got out."

"My name," I corrected him once again. "I'm the only one left in this family now."

I finished unbuttoning his shirt and touched the tip of my nose to his, looking him in the eyes again.

"...unless you want to take your rightful place in it, that is."

He gasped, staring at me in disbelief, or confusion, or both.

"Christopher, I'm not sure what you're saying."

"Mr. Vulpes," I growled. "And what I am saying is that you are due quite a bit of money, quite a bit more acknowledgement, and if you choose to accept it, you might damn well be a due a ring sometime down the road."

That might have been hasty of me at the time, but I can hardly say I regret making the offer. He couldn't seem to form the words to respond, but I let it sink in as I focused on what we both wanted then and there.

My paw crept down to the front of his trousers, feeling over his groin and cupping the massive erection housed beneath the fabric. He was quite large, a fact that I relished, but not a fact that I intended to make much use of that night. I knew all too well his preferences in the bedroom thanks to the graphic recollections in his letters, and they always leaned more towards the other side of things.

I unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants before grabbing at their waist and tugging. He held onto the armrests of his chair as I yanked his trousers, lifting his legs up onto my shoulders as I exposed his sizable rear. His expression became increasingly worried, especially as I dropped my own pants and underwear to the floor.

I was hard as a rock, and he could certainly feel it as I sandwiched myself between those big furry cheeks of his. There was an awkward moment between us as our eyes met once more and the reality of the situation sunk in. I was certainly used to being on top, and I had more than my share of experience in unorthodox positions and places, but never before had it been with someone so much older, and so much larger. I could only imagine how Johannes felt at that time. His face seemed struck with remorse, which was understandable, as I was making a point of dredging up painful memories.

I felt for a moment that I might be taking advantage of him. Between the alcohol and his fragile emotional state, it didn't seem like it would have been hard to do so. I had to make sure, and so I asked, my tone soft, yet still heavy with authority.

"Do you want this?"

He opened his mouth to speak, his voice cracking. I thought he might begin to cry again, but instead he sang out a single, pleading "yes".

That was all I needed.

I spat in my paw unceremoniously for my lubrication, reaching down eagerly to coat my cock in the stuff. I pushed forward, testing Johannes with the tip of my member, seeing just how much skill his ass had retained from his younger days with my grandfather. There was some amount of give, and I managed to slide the head in with a bit of prying. The familiar look of discomfort on the bear's face told me to back away, however. As much as I wanted to rut him out, as much pleasure as it would have given me to bury myself in him with no regard for his well-being, I knew that I would have to make him enjoy it. I had every intention of breeding him savagely, of course, but I wanted to hear him beg for more when I was finished.

I dropped down to my knees, holding his legs up above my head as I kneeled at base of his chair. I brought my muzzle in close to the fuzzy cleft of his massive rear, nosing along his stubby tail as I took a series of investigative sniffs. His rump certainly proved hygienic, although there was still a hint of musk clinging to his fur. It was masculine in its scent, but almost polite in its presence; not overpowering, but still readily identifiable as male.

Satisfied with what I had found so far, I decided to take my first lick. My tongue took its course along the underside of the bear's tail, worming between his cheeks as I spread his legs apart a bit. He shuddered at my efforts up to that point, but I was rewarded with a guttural moan as I flicked my tongue along the outer ring of his hole. That level of enthusiasm drove me forward, and I began to slurp at his opening in earnest. The warm, puckering flesh began to give way as I probed and pressed against it, slathering the bear's inner walls with saliva as I managed entry.

My tongue wriggled excitedly, curling and unfurling inside of him. My technique with it reminded me all too much of making out with more inexperienced boys while away at college. They were always incredibly sloppy, and I often had to stop midway through to instruct them to use their tongue more conservatively. Johannes gave me no such instructions, however. Instead, he urged me on, moaning and grunting with every labored breath he took, pleading for me not to stop as he clutched at the armrests of his chair.

I lost myself in that act for a time, lust driving my tongue to plumb deeper inside of him. I thrust in and out of his thoroughly wet hole, spreading him open bit by bit. I even dared to nibble at the rim of his opening a little, grazing my teeth along that sensitive flesh. Johannes seemed to choke on his own breath over that.

As much as I was enjoying myself, the old bear managed to bring me back to reality with one simple request.

"Please, Christopher, I need you to fuck me!"

I paused for a moment, running my tongue over my whiskers. There was need in the bear's voice, and I had no intention of denying him. But I needed something from him as well. I rose up and yanked the bear's trousers the rest of the way off, leaving his lower half completely exposed to me. I locked my gaze with his once more as I lifted one of his legs and reached down to stroke along his wet pucker with the tips of my fingers.

"Who do you need to fuck you, Johannes?"

He seemed confused at my question for a moment, but he tried to give me what I wanted all the same.

"Y-you. I need you to fuck me, Christopher..."

He turned his head away from me, now only looking at me with short glances from the corner of his eye. His face sank with a remarkable guilty expression, and I couldn't help but drink it in. Johannes is about as massive and bulky as you might imagine any adult bear to be, and yet I had him quivering in his chair at that moment, staring up at me like a naughty cub about to be punished.

I sank a finger inside of him as I spoke my next words.

"You're very close, Johannes, but not quite there. What is my name?"

He writhed in his chair, the wood groaning under his shifting weight.

"Christopher!" he cried.

I shook my head, pulling my finger free only to replace it with two. That earned me yet another throaty groan from the old bruin.

"What is my name?" I asked again.

He seemed to catch my meaning, and he gave an uncharacteristic whimper. His eyes began to mist over once more.

"Please... Don't make me say it..."

It might have been cruel. I may have just been satisfying some sick fetish at his expense. But I was determined to have Johannes address me the same way as he did my grandfather. I wanted to take his place in the old bear's mind. I wanted his fond memories to be about me. I wanted him to write me poems and letters, and I wanted for him to ache for his next romp with me. I wanted to be Mr. Vulpes.

"If you want it, you have to say it. Now, what is it going to be, Johannes?"

He bit his lip and closed his eyes. His whole body shuddered, and I could feel him clench around my fingers.

"...Please fuck me, Mr. Vulpes."

It was obvious how much it had pained the old bear to say that. I had no choice but to reward him. I leaned in, nuzzling my pointed nose against his gently before planting a tender kiss on his lips. My fingers came free from his rear, and I quickly replaced them with the tip of my cock. I managed to slip inside of him much more easily, working every last inch into his rump until my hips came flush with those soft cheeks. His legs wrapped around my waist, and I took hold of the armrests on the chair. We both stared at one another, taking a moment to just enjoy the warm intimacy of our strange new embrace.

And then I began to thrust. The bear's eyes clenched shut, and he grit his teeth as he braced himself. Every slap of my hips against his ass earned me a quiet grunt from him, but they quickly turned to groans as his hole relaxed around me. His muzzle hung open as I started to really ram myself inside of him, all pretenses of reservation or doubt tossed aside as he embraced the raw fucking he had clearly been denied for too long.

I wasn't surprised by his enjoyment. I had enough experience coaxing boys out of the closet into the bedroom. I was confident in my ability to be a good top. What did surprise me, however, was how much I was enjoying it. I had never even considered older men before Johannes. I had fucked a score of boys that could be considered far more conventionally attractive than a graying old bear. They had had visible abs, firm asses, and they were usually light and flexible enough for me to throw around and contort into interesting new sex positions.

None of that held a candle to my experience with Johannes that night. Everything felt perfect. The way my balls rubbed against the soft fur on the underside of his short tail sent electricity shooting up and down my spine. The way my thrusts bounced off of his chubby ass was satisfying in a way I hadn't ever imagined. Seeing his round belly jiggle every time I rammed into him was more than visually appealing--it was a motivation in and of itself to hammer his rear harder and faster.

I couldn't contain myself when our lips locked together again. That was the point of no return. I clutched the armrests of the chair hard, gathering all my strength and all the leverage available to me to furiously pound away at the old bear's ass. He moaned into my muzzle, and he dug his claws into the wood at the sides of the chair. I grunted and growled as I hit my peak. I wondered for the brief second I had whether I should pull out or finish inside of Johannes, but a sudden squeeze around my shaft made my decision clear--I pumped every last drop of hot fox spunk I had as deep as I could into the bear's ass.

A content growl from Johannes seemed to tell me that he appreciated my decision. I smirked as I leaned into him and against the chair, panting to catch my breath. I reached down to stroke over his belly, only to brush my paw along the fat dick laying across it, rigid and throbbing. I chuckled and lifted the thing, feeling the weight in my palm for a moment. I tugged the tight foreskin back and forth over the bear's bulbous head only a couple of times before Johannes belted out a thunderous roar to signal his orgasm. He gushed liked a fountain, enormous arcs of his thick cum firing through the air, over his head, onto his face, chest, and ending with a liberal painting of his belly. He whimpered and shuddered as the last of his load oozed out onto my knuckles.

I admired the impressive display a while before shaking my head and pulling myself free from Johannes' rear end, a dribble of cum following my cock and leaking down onto his tail. It was amazing to see the old grumpy bear I had once feared and hated now slumped back in his chair and dripping with both of our loads. He turned his head up towards me as if to ask "what now?"

I reached over to the handkerchief on his desk, nonchalantly wiping off my paws and then my cock before tossing it onto the old bear's gut and smiling at him.

"Get yourself cleaned up before you come to bed. We'll talk assets and partnerships in the morning."