Beware The Werebear
Watch out werewolves—the newest Supe in town is a rare Werebear, and he’s out for more than an easy lay. Join this hot furry Daddy as he seeks out his rough brand of dominance. He has an appetite for more than food. This is one bear that bites. This is not a Gentle Ben type, so lock up your doors and Beware The Werebear. He takes what he wants—and he may want you. (Warning: Your E-Readeer may catch on fire because this story is so hot. An adults only story of Shapeshifter gay rough sex, anal and oral Domination with a hot leather Daddy who is the ultimate bear.) This ebook is the first in the Tales of the Werebear series.
Excerpt:
“And you?” I kicked back my beer. “You’re no werewolf, but you’re something close.”
“Coyote,” he said, draining the last of his beer and holding up the bottle to signal another. “It’s a Native American thing. You can’t toss a beer can without hitting a werewolf, but a true Coyote is rare.”
“So,” I called from the kitchen, grabbing a couple of more beers, “does that make you American Indian?”
“I’m a breed,” he said, taking the bottle. “If you know anything about Coyote stories, you know we’ll jump anything that moves and even more often, things that don’t move. I think that’s how Daddy and Mommy met.” He put his beer down and his eyes glittered with that odd yellow color. His not wolf smell intensified and I found myself hard and interested.
I slowly and seductively started unbuttoning my shirt and let it fall to the floor. He reached out and started unbuttoning my (too) loose jeans and they puddled on the floor. I’m always commando, and he fell silent. I know I’m impressive. I’m a Werebear. What’s not to be impressed by, even if I’m so underfed at the moment?
I looked at his pitiful Coyote something self and wished he was bigger. A lot bigger. His cock was uncut and glistening (when had he pulled off his own jeans?). He was big enough down there, even if I could count his ribs. But the differences in our bodies made him look like a teenager. In reality, he looked in his thirties, but Supes can be misleading. I had no idea how Coyotes would age compared to humans. If he were more like a werewolf, he might be in his fifties.
I pulled him close to me and thrust my tongue into his mouth. He tasted of beer and a lingering bit of chicken. The tips of our cocks touched and I felt an electric charge that only came when with another Supe—no human felt like this.
