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Welcome back DC! Take it away!!
Until high school, I only knew one kind of man – the kind like my father and the rest of the men in my family. Short, scrawny men, they were all mean, with a bad case of “little man syndrome.” I’d been nothing but hurt – mentally, physically, and sexually – and by age fourteen I had an ingrained distrust of men in general.
The first bear to enter my life was a man named Aaron, and he was the father of one of the kids I went to school with. This guy was huge – he towered over my 5’6” father at over six feet tall. He was big and burly, with the widest shoulders I’d ever seen, and a thick pelt of chest hair which peaked out constantly from under the tank top he always wore. He was easily the scariest looking parent, yet he was friendly and kind, warm and courteous. Unlike my own father, Aaron took time with me, asked me how I was, and genuinely seemed interested in listening to the prattling of a teenager.
I began to wonder if all big men were like that, or just him. I started paying more attention to my schoolmates' families, and over the course of a couple years, I'd decided that big men were the real deal, and I wanted a big man of my own.
Now, of course, as an adult, I know my little survey was not only highly unscientific, but largely untrue. Assholes come in all shapes and sizes - even extra large. But I never did lose my craving for a big man. I don't know what it is about big men that attracts me so much in the physical sense. Maybe it's a mental hold-over from my childhood, but shorter, scrawny men don't get my motor going like big men do.
In the summer of 1999 I met someone online who absolutely stole my heart. He was warm, witty, caring, intelligent, and deep. I knew I wanted him from the first hello. There was just something about him, that, even over the internet, came through. And then I saw his picture. Holy. Hell. I'd landed the bear I'd always wanted!
He's furry - there's enough chest hair on my man to run my fingers through. He's tall - he's all of 6'2" and I'm 4'9". He's broad - he has a 56" chest and that's all bone. He's got these big, calloused hands with these long, thick fingers. He's easily big enough and bad enough to rip someone's head off, even without trying. Growing up, he was bigger than the other kids, and constantly worried about hurting someone in sports. Hell, in the beginning of our relationship, he was absolutely terrified of squashing me or bruising me unintentionally. (Little did he know the BDSM hellcat he'd hooked himself up with! LOL)But, he's also incredibly gentle. He's soft spoken - so much so that waitresses have trouble hearing him. He's big hearted - I maintain that you have not had your heart melted until you see a man his size holding hand-feeding a tiny kitten.
And those hands of his, which could very understandably be so clumsy, are deft enough to latch delicate jewelry. That body frame of his, which you'd imagine you could hear coming a mile away, can sneak up on you no matter where you are and scare the bejesus out of you in seconds flat.
And although he dwarfs me in height, he has never once used that against me - he has a way of standing close that isn't looming at all.
Of course, I'd still love him if he weren't a bear. But, I think so much of who he is as a person is wrapped up in his size, I'm not sure he'd be the same person if he weren't a bear. And now for the part you really want to hear about - THE CONTEST!
Leave a comment below with your e-mail and you'll be entered to win a free pdf copy of any of my books you'd like - found at www.dcjuris.com.