Down 'n Dirty
by Furr
Originally published in issue #8 of BEAR

I like bikers. Not the Yuppie in a suit scooting to work on a little ricegrinder, but the kind of Bikers that scare and revolt straightlaced citizens; dirty, leather-clad, Harley-riding "Outlaw" Bikers. Of course, the most "outlaw" thing most of them have done is to trade or sell a little grass to their bros, something half the Yuppies on ricegrinders are guilty of as well. But, the Bikers have a different lifestyle that sends the "upstanding citizens" into a tailspin.

Of course, there's more than just admiration for individuality at work here. I'm unabashedly gay, and bikers just flat-out turn me on. The sight of a long-haired, long-bearded MAN in grease-stained 501's and worn leathers straddling a big Hawg is enough to give me a hardon in a flash. Some of my gay friends buy gay skin rags to jerk off over; I buy the outlaw biker rags and ignore the women.

Part of the reason I'm into this breed of biker, I suppose, is that I love grungy, greasy, sweaty men. Some time ago, I practically stole a hot nearly-new Low Rider with a flawless two-tone dark red paintjob from some silly fool who was going to get a ricegrinder that wouldn't "vibrate" so much. I've spent the last couple years slowly customizing the bike, wearing in my leathers, and letting one particular pair of jeans go unwashed....

A couple months ago, I found the bar. A run down little tavern on the "bad" side of town, there was nothing in front of it but scoots -- most of them Hawgs with a few Brit machines mixed in. I was taking a roundabout putt to the parts shop to pick up my new custom saddlebags. As the silver-bearded bro behind the counter rang up my purchase, I asked him if he knew of the place.

"Sure do. It's a nice little biker bar -- windows out front so you can keep an eye on your scoot, though you hardly need to - any of the bros there would yell if anyone started fuckin' with anyone's ride. Gets good and rowdy, but brawls are rare; just a real nice place to party. But if you're looking for scooter babes, forget it. It's got a rep as the place to go when a brother just wants to be with bros. Here y'go... those bags'l look real fine on your bike. Y'all come back -- you're one of our best customers!"

I grinned. "Soon as I decide what I want to do next for the scoot that I can afford, I'll be back! Catch ya later!"

I decided to stop in the bar on the way home and check the place out. I damn near popped a hardon just walking into the place. The air was thick with smells, the two most potent being man-sweat and well-worn leather. Motor oil, beer, and cigar smoke added spice to the mix. Trying to look casual, I surveyed the room. The bar was small, but set up to be snug, not cramped. Being this was a Saturday afternoon, the place was pretty busy. I can tell you that all the bikers there were the genuine article, and I would have gladly taken most of them home to play with.

I stepped up to the bar, and I got a better look at the bartender. My first impression was "Fuckin' huge!" That didn't change. The man had to be at least 6'8 if he was an inch, and broad. A beard that came down to about where his nipples should be, and a long braid down his back, both of brown hair shot with silver. A half-smoked fat cigar between his teeth. My second thought was "No wonder this place has no problem with brawls....!"

His threatening demeanor was softened when he pulled the stogie out of his mouth, grinned like a bear who's just found a honey-hive with all the bees gone, and rumbled "Hey, bro! Never seen you in here before. What can I get ya?" Disarming as the greeting was, I didn't miss the upper body muscles rippling under his black t-shirt as he leaned forward so he could hear me over the jukebox.

"A draft, and a light if you've got one" I said, as I pulled one of my own long cigars from my inner pocket. The damn things are a bitch to carry without breaking, but well worth the hassle.

The bartender grinned even wider (if possible). "Sure thing! Nice to see another bro who smokes like a man." He passed me my beer, and pulled out a lighter as I paid for the brew. "Y'know, there's a whole bunch of bros who like stogies who are in here every so often; when they get goin' and I get mine fired up, I gotta turn off the damn smoke alarm." The grin stayed after he put the cigar back in his mouth and said "'Joy yer brew!" around it.

I gradually started dropping in more often; the company was good, and it was certainly nice to be with men who shared my interest in Harleys. Most of the time, I just sat at a table in the back, sipping my beer, smoking my cigars, and enjoying the hardon that watching the other bikers gave me -- discreetly hidden under the tabletop. I eventually noticed the group that the bartender Teddy (as in Bear, as if anyone looking at the man couldn't guess, and hence the groaner name of the place: The Teddy B'ar) had mentioned. By keeping my ears open, I eventually found out they all had rented a house together to save on living expenses, and therefore be able to spend more on their scoots and other pleasures. Occasionally, they'd come to the bar and damn near empty the joint with an announcement they were having a party.

Finally, on a mellow evening, one of them came over to me and sat down at my table. He was one of my favorites to watch, what with his dark coppery auburn hair and beard, both long but obviously well tended. I began to worry that perhaps my watching had become too obvious.

"Hey, man. The brothers and I were just wondering why you never show up at any of our parties?"

So that was it. "Just didn't feel like the invitation included me; you obviously knew everyone else in the place, and I don't force myself on people."

He chuckled. "That's for sure. Well, all the other people you've been talkin' to say you're good people, so you come to the next party, OK?"

While the prospect of likely having to hang out with a bunch of biker women as well as the men didn't thrill me, I didn't want to be rude. "Sure will, and thanks for the invitation."

"Great! See ya then, bro!" As he stood up to shake my hand, I could swear that first one of his booted feet slid over to nudge one of mine; and I KNEW that when he stood up, he had a hardon - a nice one - behind his greasy grey-black jeans that wasn't there when he sat down. I couldn't help the surprised look on my face; he caught it, grinned at me a little, and winked.

It was a week or two before that group announced another party, and in that time I still hadn't been able to figure out what was going on. To say that I was curious would be a strong contender for "Understatement Of The Year." After my little encounter with the copper-bearded biker (whose name turned out to be -- predictably -- Rusty), I worked on being a little more outgoing, and wound up making the acquaintance of most of the group in the house, but I still had no idea what was going on.

So, one night when I was in the bar celebrating the fact that everyone where I worked had been given a month off -- with pay -- while the place was remodeled and refurbished, in came Rusty and a couple of his buddies to announce another one of their parties.

"Damnit, Rusty, you and your crew are gonna ruin me!" Teddy growled, though he was smiling when he said it.

"Give it a rest, Teddy. I haven't known you to miss one of these parties yet, after you close up here!"

"Got me there, Rusty. See you about 2:30, then!"

The whole lot of us hopped on our bikes and followed Rusty and his buddies back to their place. It turned out to be a slightly run-down, but very large house on the edge of town, with no nearby neighbors -- a perfect biker party pad, with no neighbors to piss off. Everyone else hustled inside, but Rusty's sidestand had gotten jammed. I pried it loose while he held the bike up, and we walked up to the house.

It was one of those older-style buildings with an actual enclosed porch in front of the main door, and once we were on the porch, Rusty grabbed me behind the neck and laid a wet tongue kiss on me that left me gasping for breath with a full hard-on in my pants.

"You just passed the final exam!" he said, grinning at me. I picked the little sucker up, as he was about six inches shorter than me, and shoved my tongue back down his throat. When I finished pumping my spit down his throat, HE was the one gasping for breath.

"Rusty, will you PLEASE tell me what the flyin' fuck is goin' on here??" I could see all sorts of bikers doing all manner of sleazy things to each other through a crack in the curtains. "Half those bros in there have ol'ladies, and most of 'em talk about nailin' pussy at the bar. What gives?!?!?!"

"Ya gotta understand; lots of ol'ladies won't give their men head, or get into some of the raunchy or rough stuff their men like. There's a lot of truth to the saying that bikers will fuck anything with a hole. There are some all-gay bros, some that actively swing both ways, and some that just come here for what they can't get at home. But, because lots of these guys don't want their women to find out, or whatever, no one talks about it outside the parties. The main rules are no fights, if someone comes on to you for something you aren't into, turn 'em down politely, and if someone is too persistent, tell one of the guys who lives here and we'll take care of it."

"So the whole thing is kind of a private club that uses Teddy's as its recruiting office?"

He grinned. "The whole thing was Teddy's idea, but it didn't really take off until we got this house to use to throw the parties in. Teddy said he figured you were into men, so I administered the test."

"So what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

Rusty led me into the house and showed me the layout. The upstairs was the bedrooms of all the men living there; you could use them for private playing if the occupant of the room was part of the group or gave his permission. The kitchen was set up as the bar, the back porch as the place for those into recreational chemicals to do their indulging, and most of the rest of the ground floor was fuck space. The basement was set up for some of the kinkier (and messier) scenes.

Filling all this were the men. Big as the house was, there were enough that the place felt crowded, and especially so when a particularly hot scene would draw a lot of spectators into a particular area. If you want to get an idea what they looked like, flip through a copy of In The Wind, Runnin' Free or any of the other "outlaw" biker photo rags. Big beards. Wild moustaches. Long hair. Leather. Greasy, dirty Levis. Sweat.

I realized that I was unconsciously rubbing my hardon through my jeans, so I popped my fly and pulled out my cock and balls. No sooner had I started to slip my long 'skin back and forth over my cockhead than Rusty's tongue was in between my 'skin and cockhead. Since on my job, no one gives a flyin' fuck what you smell like -- and the previously mentioned fact that I love sweat -- I was in the habit of bathing maybe twice a week. Given the timing, Rusty had plenty of dickcheese to lick out for me -- and he did it damn well.

I remembered what he'd said about some of the bros being into rough sex, so I shoved my cock down his throat without warning. He just kind of closed his eyes and hummed blissfully, so I gave him a couple good deep strokes before pulling out.

"I don't wanna get off before I see what all's going on here. Maybe a little later?"

Rusty grinned. "Later, or the next party... I want your dick, and I'm willing to wait for it. Enjoy yourself, and I'll catch ya later."

I got myself a can of beer and started prowling the place, checkin' out the action. The beer I'd had at the bar had opened the floodgates, and I needed to piss. I started lookin' around for the can; what I found was a room full of piss-soaked hunks. I had just finished relieving myself into a particularly well-built stud with a hot honey blonde beard when I felt a familiar warmth spreading across the back of my pants and moving down my legs. I looked back over my shoulder as my urinal started sucking my cock to see a compact man, nicely built with a fairly short, midnight black beard against pale skin pissing all over the back of my pants. I recognized him as one of the regulars at Teddy's, name of Mick.

"I've waited a LONG time to do that, bro!"

I pulled out of Honey-Beard's mouth. "Shit, if I'd have known, you wouldn't have had to wait!" I dropped to my knees and started sucking his cock. He quickly grabbed my head in his hands and held it still.

"Whoa, boy. The tank's not anywhere near empty yet!" He pulled back a bit, and started pissing in my mouth. After gulping down a couple mouthfuls of his sweet, clear beer piss, I pulled back myself, and guided his piss stream all over me. Honey-Beard stood up behind me and started pouring it on as well, so I took Mick's cock back in my mouth and drank him dry.

Since by this point, only one of the three of us was still dry, Honey-Beard (whose name turned out to be Reb) and I dragged Mick down into the pools of fresh piss all over the floor, and wrestled him around enough to thoroughly drench him.

We finally crawled out of the piss parlor and collapsed together on a funky old mattress that had clearly seen its share of piss-drenched bikers. We lay there a while, licking piss and sweat out of each other's beards and getting to know each other. In the meantime, the attention we were paying each other got our dicks to rising, and before I knew it, Reb was sitting on my dick and Mick was settling his furry ass down on my face.

Now, I love fuckin' butt, especially one as tight and hairy as Reb's. But eating ass -- that's my specialty. I pulled those black-furred buns apart and planted my tongue right on Mick's hole; I was in no mood to be subtle. My long tongue slipped right up his hole, until my beard was grinding his butt while I ate. Mick and Reb were deep in a long, hot kiss of their own while they jerked each other off and rode my body.

Mick squirmed his butt all over my face, trying to get my tongue in deeper; Reb amazed me with what he could do in what is, after all, a rather difficult position for the dude gettin' plowed, 'specially since he has to do all the work. I could feel the rhythm of their hands as they beat off, and hear the slurping sounds they made as they kissed; counterpointing those were the viscous, liquid sounds of Reb shoving his tight, slick asshole down my cock to my balls, and of course, MY ardent slurping around in Mick's shithole.

Finally, Mick could take no more and set us all off by blasting off all over Reb's chest; I could feel his cum dripping off of Reb onto my belly as his hole spasmed shut, trapping my tongue inside. Reb started fucking himself on my cock even faster, and brought the two of us off as close to simultaneously as makes no difference, him adding to the mess in my chest fur, me pumping his butt full of my hot mancream.

Mick slid off to one side as Reb covered me and started rubbing our cum-slicked, furry chests together as we gently kissed.

"I gotta find out what's put Mick in a daze.... Hope you don't mind a juicy ass!"

"Fuck, no! Get that crack down here on this face!"

My cum had already started leaking out of his abused butt, so I immediately got to taste my jizz hot out of his ass; it rapidly blended with the spit and Mick's buttslime that was already in my beard and 'stache. By the time I finished cleaning out his fuckpit, to my surprise, we both had roaring hardons again.

"Jeez, Reb... I'm usually a one-shot per night man!"

He grinned at me. "Go take that and get somebody off as good as you did me. I'm gonna wake Mick up and go get something to drink."

I grinned back. "Damn right!"

As I moved away, the grunts and thumps behind me told me that Reb had decided that the best way to wake Mick up was to give his butt a good hard fucking.

First stop was the kitchen for a cold can of beer; after all that buttlicking, my mouth was dry. The kitchen was kind of a "neutral" zone where people could go to grab a brew and recover before diving back in. After a couple brews, I felt like seeing what was goin' on, and started prowling around again.

What I saw had my dick rock-hard again, tenting out my greasy jeans. A glassy-eyed Rusty had his legs locked around Teddy's waist, who was holding Rusty under the armpits, and was bouncing him up and down on a cock that belonged on a farm animal as he walked around the room! Teddy's ever-present stogie, clenched between his teeth, was bouncing in time with Rusty, the ashes collecting in Rusty's fur, and Teddy was blowin' the smoke in Rusty's face.

The ass end of Rusty's jeans had been ripped wide open to let Teddy get at his fuckhole, and Rusty's cock was stickin' out through his fly. All of a sudden, Rusty's head dropped back, and he shot all over the red fur on his chest, makin' a real mess with all the cigar ashes already there. Teddy pulled him off his cock and laid him down on a nearby chair to recover.

"I still ain't got off yet!" Teddy bellowed around his stogie. "I need me another hole!"

Before I really realized what I was doing, I was simultaneously working my tongue under Teddy's foreskin while somehow managing to get one leg of my jeans off over my boot. I rapidly found myself on my back, legs hooked around Teddy's waist as a jar of Vaseline materialized out of the crowd and Teddy greased me up.

Teddy took a last draw off his cigar butt, blew the smoke in my face and smiled. "Don't wanna bust that ass permanently... just want to bust into it for a good fuck! You ready, stud?"

I must have grunted something that sounded affirmative, because Teddy started a slow but purposeful slide up my hole. Yeah, it hurt, but he went slow enough that it never got unbearable. Finally, I could feel his thick crotchfur and lowhangin' balls against my ass. His arms were supporting his weight on either side of my head, and his open, wet armpits had filled the space between us with thick male musk.

"Like my smell, eh bro? I ain't bathed in more 'n six months. If you don't get yer gun till I get mine, I might just let you give me a tongue bath later." And with that, he started to very slowly pump his dick back and forth in my asshole. Thinkin' back on it, it reminds me of a heavy freight train starting up. Takes it a while to get up to speed, but once it's rollin', it's damn near unstoppable.

With that massive fuckrod in me, my own eyes went glassy long before Teddy hit his stride. Someone put a full inhaler of amyl in my hand, and a couple long hits on that sent my brain on vacation and my butt took over. I stared into Teddy's eyes and watched as he broke out in a heavy sweat, little crystaldrops of musk forming on his beard, mustache and forehead, and big wet stains spreading out from his pits and down the front of his shirt. I was pourin' sweat too, but I didn't notice till a lot later. Nothin' mattered but watchin' that hot stud, and buckin' my ass back to meet his strokes. The look of bliss on his face when I started meeting him halfway was fuckin' wild.

I was so focussed on Teddy's eyes I didn't notice his tongue workin' in his mouth until he hawked a big mouthful of spit all over my face. I gasped, and my mouth fell open to recieve the next three gobs of thick, almost cum-like spit, which carried the pungent flavor of the cigar he had been smokin'. After blasting the last one full force into my mouth, Teddy followed it with his tongue all the way to the back of my throat, or so it seemed.

As I started sucking on Teddy's tongue, his fuck tempo picked up a little, and he started growling deep in his throat. As his growling reached a peak, he pulled his tongue out of my mouth and said, "You better be ready to get your butt pumped full, cause I'm 'bout to shoot!" His thrusts started to get harder instead of faster, and his breathing grew rough.

"Oh, yeah, fuck, fuck, ohh, yeah, oh shit, yeah, Yeah, YEAAAHHHHHH!!!!"

Whereas before I felt like I was having a telephone pole shoved up my ass, now it felt like a firehose -- and his thrusts didn't stop. In fact, he was ramming his hardest as he came, and he let go with another mouthful of spit into my face for good measure. That was the last straw for me, and I sent my load blasting up along his furry chest to splatter all over the beard on the underside of his chin.

He slowly lowered himself down onto my body, but kept his dick in my hole. After giving me a long, gentle, tender tongue kiss, he whispered, "Gotta piss, bro!" in my ear.

"Is it rank?"

"Should be. I ain't pissed since early this mornin'. You want it up your butt or all over ya?"

"How 'bout both, if ya got enough for both jobs?"

He grinned. "You're a sick fucker; I like that. Both it is!" Immediately, another sensation of spreading warmth started in my ass; it continued until he whipped his pissing cock out of my asshole (which I quickly clamped shut) and started soaking me down from head to toe. Just as he finished pissing some into each of my boots, I grabbed his cock and drank the last few squirts of his incredibly dark piss; it was such a dark gold it was almost brown. I slowly rolled up onto my hands and knees, and as I started to kiss Teddy once again, I felt a pressure and a warmth at my fuckhole.

"Too fuckin' far to the can, bro. Your butt's a lot more convenient!" said the grey-bearded biker pissing in my ass.

"Fuck, bro, that's what it's for!" I told him, and got back to Teddy. Instead of returning to his lips, I decided to take the "tongue tour" of his sweaty bod that I'd earned. As soon as he realized my purpose, he obliged me by stripping off his sweat-drenched shirt to give me access to his fur-carpeted torso.

All that fur was soaking wet and stuck to his skin with pungent, tasty bear-sweat. I chewed my way down through his beard, then groomed his chest with my teeth (discovering that his nipples were big and sensitive in the process). After that, I dove into those armpits that had been tantalizing me for so long. My eyes were watering, but my nose and my tongue were in ecstacy. I wallowed my beard in his 'pits to pick up his scent, slurped from his elbow halfway down the side of his chest, and just generally pigged out on his sweaty, stinkin' bod, finally collapsing across his chest.

"Ain't you forgot somethin', bro?"

"What's that, Teddy?"

"Well, y'all did a fuckin' killer job on half of me, but there's another half that hasn't felt that fantastic tongue of yours yet!"

"Oh...." (the third [or was it fourth? I lost count!] dude to piss up my ass while I was slurping Teddy finished up and pulled out.) "Um, yeah. Ted, I'd never want it said I passed up a funky crotch, but my tongue feels like it's been sandblasted after suckin' yer fur. How about next time around? I gotta admit I'm lookin' forward to havin' you sit that hairy butt of yours down on my face!"

"Me too! But then, this IS your first party, and I don't wanna burn ya out before you work up your stamina. Besides, right now I think you need to go dump all that piss you've collected!"

"Truer words were never spoken, bro. Catch ya in a bit."

Feeling the desire for just a tad of privacy, I slipped out into the backyard, which was lightly populated with small groups fuckin' and suckin' and gettin' sleazy out in the bushes. Feelin' a lot like a wild animal, I took my dump under a big tree, screened off by bushes, then went back to the house.

I found Teddy where I had left him, and stretched out on a nearby couch.

"Too bad these damn parties of yours are only once or twice a month, bro. This is the best time I've had in a long time!"

"Well... it's like this all the time for me and the other bros who live here. Somethin' new all the time, and good hot reliable fuckin' whenever ya need it."

"Sounds great, ya lucky fuck. Ohhh, yeahhh...."

At that point, a bro with a neatly short-trimmed reddish-blonde beard walked up and let fly all over me with a stream of hot piss. When he finished, he slipped his cock into my mouth and down my throat.

Teddy laughed. "I can see you're gonna be busy, bro. I'll talk at ya later. Enjoy!"

* * * * *

I lost count of how many cocks I sucked while layin' back on that couch... I did wake up still damp, smellin' totally rank with piss, and with my beard stiff with dried cum. I just wasn't sure why I had awakened; the room was still dark and quiet. Then my mind focussed, and I realized I was gettin' an expert blowjob.

"Mmmm.... fuckin' great way to wake up, bro.... oh yeah, get it all... take that fat fucker all the way, yeah, like that, bro." I had my hands on the back of his neck shoving his face into my crotch. Before long, I let him up, and his hot tongue swirling under my foreskin got him a big mouthful of my jism.

It was no surprise when I realized my cocksucker was Rusty. I watched with a grin as he spit my load out into his hand, and rubbed it into his beard, wiping the last of it off in his chestfur.

"Sleazy bastard!"

"Damn right, and you love it!! I told you I wanted your dick, and I got it!"

"The way you suck, bro, you can have it any time you want it!"

I pulled him down on top of me and started suckin' his tongue, and nibbling him from the tips of his ears to the base of his neck. He started doin' the same thing to me, and what with the spit flyin' every which way.... I found I was rock-hard again.

"You bastards are turnin' me into a fuckin' satyr!

Rusty leered at me. "I sure hope so!! Now, to take care of THAT..."

Rusty bent down and slobbered all over my still-wet dick, then quickly turned and slammed his ass down on my tool, all the way to my furry balls, in one fast move.

"Ohhh, damn that's a good fit!" Rusty moaned.

I rolled him off me onto the floor, then hooked his legs over my shoulders and shoved back inside. "You're gettin' this load on MY terms, bro! Brace yerself!"

I started fuckin' the man's hot, tight hole hard and fast, and had just hit a nice rhythm when the little bastard hocked a huge gob of spit right in my face (he musta seen Teddy and me goin' at it earlier). Not to be outdone, I blasted him back, and the two of us kept on swappin' spit until I finally pulled out of his ass, and blasted his spit-soaked beard with my jizz. When that hot stuff splattered up across his cheek, he let go and made a sticky mess of all that red fur on his chest.

I got back onto the couch and pulled Rusty over. He snuggled up close with his back to my chest, and the two of us went back to sleep that way, spoon-fashion.

* * * * *

The next morning, I was awakened by the smell of breakfast being made in the kitchen. I noticed rather guiltily that all the other guests had departed. I was just about to slip out the door and leave for home when I was grabbed from behind.

"Where the fuck do you think YOU'RE going??" Rusty asked me. "As a first-timer here, breakfast is part of the package. Now get your butt in there and clean up for breakfast!"

"Cleaning up" was limited to washing my hands and face, as the small bathroom Rusty shoved me into didn't have a shower. I was rather glad of that, actually; I was enjoying the funky smell my body and my clothes were giving off, and I wasn't in much of a hurry to get rid of it.

The breakfast turned out to be "Logger Style" -- simple, but lots of it. I was introduced to the other men who lived there, around mouthfulls of eggs, bacon and pancakes. After breakfast, Teddy pulled out one of his huge cigars with a couple others following suit, and two pulling out pipes. The thought occurred to ask Teddy where the hell he bought his stogies; none of the tobacco shops I knew of carried anything as huge as what he smoked.

As if he'd known what I was thinking, Teddy handed me one of his stogies and his lighter when he'd finished firing his up. "That fucker's a full 64 ring gauge [one inch in diameter to the uninitiated], and nine full fuckin' inches long. I gotta get 'em mail order, 'cause the damn wimpy smoke shops 'round here won't carry 'em. They say that no one wants to smoke somethin' that big these days. Fuck 'em!"

I lit up cautiously, expecting something that big to taste awful; I got a pleasant surprise. It was very tasty, but mild. The length of the thing made it start out cool and light, and I decided that Teddy had excellent taste.

Teddy chuckled around his cigar. "I could tell you were 'spectin that to taste like horse shit, but you obviously changed your mind!"

"Damn right! This is delicious!"

"Well, that settles it. Bro, we've talked about you and decided we'd be stupid if we didn't offer a righteous brother with good taste in bikes, sex and stogies like yourself the last free room in the house."

"Huh?" Never let it be said I'm ever at a loss for words.

"Guess you aren't awake all the way yet after last night" Teddy grinned. "What I'm askin' ya is whether you'd like to live in this house with all these other raunchy fuckers. Rent's real low, and I bet livin' with brothers would be a lot easier than livin' 'round a bunch of citizen-types. What do ya say??"

What could I say?? Work was no further away, and I'd be away from that bitch of a landlady who kept complaining about the way my Harley's rumble "echoed" in the garage. "Right on, brother! I would be the stupid one to pass up an offer like this!"

With that, everyone stood up and I was soon surrounded by my new housemates in a massive cluster hug, with myself and Teddy at the center. He pulled back a little after nearly crushing me to death in a bear hug, and said "You sure smell good 'n funky, buddy. Hope you aren't plannin' on washin' any time soon!"

"In point of fact, Teddy Bear, I'm not plannin' on bathin' until the end of the month when I have to go back to work. And I bet we're ALL gonna get drippin' wet with sweat movin' my stuff over here, what with the weather we've been havin'."

One of the other bros, a brown-bearded stud with a handlebar 'stache spoke up at that and said "Shit, we'll have to have another party just to celebrate all the sweat!"

We did... but that's another story.