The Barbie Lez Fantasies – Week 89: BlueBEARry Picking

Barbie Lez
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I was visiting my father. I always loved to spend time there as it reminded me of my childhood. But the true reason for my visit was slightly more superficial. Unlike most people, I absolutely love vegetables, especially ones grown in an organic garden. Ever since I could remember, my father grew far more vegetables than he could hope to eat all by himself and, every year, he would give the excess cucumbers and tomatoes—just to name a few—to his friends and neighbors. But as eager as I was at the thought of stuffing my face with fresh, crispy veggies, the true reason for my excitement lay in the dozen blueberry bushes that grew in his back yard. Aside from watermelons so ripe they literally melt in your mouth and mangos so sweet you get a head rush when you eat them, blueberries were my favorite fruit.

As soon as I got settled in, I hurried outside. Knowing I could take a tour of the garden anytime I pleased, I headed straight for the back yard. The blueberry bushes were overflowing with ripe fruit and the weight of the tasty orbs made the branches droop. Thankfully, I was eager to help lessen that weight.

I rushed over to the nearest bush and reached for the largest cluster of ripe berries I could find. But my fingers halted mere inches from their destination. I had just heard a noise. It was only the crack of a branch, but the closeness of it let me know whoever—or whatever—was responsible for it stood nearby. I turned around, expecting to find my father. Instead, I discovered a dark shape. A bear.

I’ve seen three wild bears in my life. The first time was when I was young. My sister and I came across a bear eating the wild apples that grew in the tree near our house. We were far enough to sneak away unnoticed. The second time was when I was a teenager. I was biking along the path that meandered through the forest when I came across a large bear. I skidded to a stop and the sound of the gravel flying in all directions scared the beast away. The third time was when I was in my mid-twenties. Unlike the two previous times, escape was impossible.

The bear stood roughly twenty feet from me. He stood on all fours, but I could tell he was massive. The largest bear I had ever seen—not counting the ones I had seen in captivity. He did not seem to have noticed me—he was busy eating the blueberries that weighed down the bush before him—but I knew he would spot me as soon as I moved.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with bears, the worst possible thing you can do when facing one is to run away. They are faster than you and can climb trees and swim across rivers far better. If a bear is chasing you, the best thing you can do is drop and play dead.

I stood there for a few seconds, petrified. My survival instinct told me to run, but I refused to listen to it. I would stand perfectly still until the animal had his full of berries and left of his own accord.

The next few minutes were the longest of my life. I’ve only had one near-life experience and that happened so quickly I barely had time to realize how much danger I was in. This time, I knew one wrong move could attract the bear’s attention. Of course, I also knew most wild animals are more afraid of us than we are of them, but the size of the bear made me rethink the theory.

As I waited, I studied the beast. His fur was pure charcoal. His long, sharp claws were ideal for picking blueberries, but I knew they would work just as well to slice through my skin. I knew I should have been terrified, but the more I stared at the bear, the more entranced I grew. The sight of his powerful jaw, the ripple of his muscles beneath his fur, everything he did drew me in like a moth to flame. I didn’t understand what was happening until it was too late.

“I’m getting turned on!” I realized. It took all I had not to gasp in disbelief. I had always thought writing about sex all day long had no impact on me, but I guess I was wrong. I knew my fantasies sometimes got in the way, but never before had they put my life in danger. But no matter how terrified I was at the thought of leaving reality behind, that was exactly what happened next.

As soon as the fantasy had begun, I breathed a sigh of relief. I had not moved an inch for the past few minutes and every muscle in my body now ached. You have no idea how difficult it is to remain perfectly still for a prolonged period of time, even if it’s only standing up with an outstretched arm. Neither did I until I tried to move and felt my knees buckle. I crashed to the ground, cringing when a branch snapped beneath me.

There was a moment of silence before the ground started to shake and the sound of leaves brushing against fur reached my ears. I dared not look up until the animal stood before me. My eyes traveled up his body until I reached his head. He stood on his hind legs, his massive frame towering above me like certain doom.

His right paw left his side and his claws appeared. I closed my eyes and waited for the end. The whistling of claws through air told me my life was coming to an end.

His claws never reached me. They sliced through my clothes, tearing them to shreds without leaving so much as a scratch on my skin. I just lay there, eyes sealed shut, as the animal ripped the clothes from my body. When I finally found the courage to open my eyes, I was naked. I had no idea how a wild animal knew to do such a thing, but that was of little concern. His head now stood mere inches from my pussy. Before I could think to reunite my separated thighs, the animal buried his face in my cunt.

“Fuck!” I yelped in a mixture of surprised and arousal as his tongue slithered across my labia. Before I could figure out if I was terrified or thrilled, he began furiously licking my lower lips, teasing my clit each time his tongue reached it.

My fear quickly faded, giving way to arousal. In a matter of seconds, my uncertainty had vanished. I now craved the touch of the beast’s tongue and moaned each time it made contact with my skin. Before I even got a chance to beg for more, the animal sent his tongue flying into my slit. I was so wet it slipped in with ease.

It travelled in and out of me for a few moments before something happened. It took a moment before I recognized it as an orgasm. Before I could decide it I wanted to let a wild bear lick me to climax, the animal’s tongue left my slit. Being denied so close to sexual release made me realize how much I had been craving the feel of an orgasm ripping at my insides.

My eyes flew open and I stared at the bear. He just stood before me, his dark little eyes focused on me. He seemed to be laughing at me. I felt anger shoot through me, but I knew better than to upset a bear. But the anger that filled me faded as soon as the animal stood on his hind legs, revealing a rock-hard cock.

The mere sight of it drove me wild with desire. I no longer cared I had been denied climax. Nor did it bother me that I was dealing with a wild, unpredictable animal. All that now mattered was that long, hard shaft. I wanted it inside me and I wanted it now. Ignoring the danger that came with it, I scrambled to my hands and knees and turned away from the horny animal.

I was about to glance back over my shoulder when a large, furry leg landed on either side of my head. He now stood over me, the fur that covered his underbelly brushing against my back as he positioned himself. I barely had time to smile in anticipation before the tip of the member pressed up against my labia.

“Fuck me!” I begged, taking control of the situation. I could have waited for my lover to make a move, but I chose to take matter into my own hands. With a forceful grunt, I jerked backwards, impaling myself on the stiff.

“Fuck!” I yelped as it shot deep into me. It was so hot. And big.

My lover took control of the situation. He began rocking back and forth, forcing his member deep into me each time he moved forward. Moans began to flow past my lips. I feared they would anger my lover, but they only encouraged him to intensify his pounding. Before long, he was ramming me mercilessly, his spear diving in and out of me with such speed that I lost all track of when it was in and when it was out.

I moaned at the top of my lungs until my arousal got too much to handle. When the orgasm that had been building within me for the past few seconds finally exploded, I fell silent. It was without a word that wave after wave of cum shot out of my, the hot nectar dripping down my thighs each time my body jerked forward. My lover’s creamy semen soon joined mine and helped coat my thighs.

It wasn’t until the final wave oozed out of me that my voice returned. I produced one final moan before crashing to the ground. I never had time to recover, because I was snapped back to reality by the sound of cracking branches.

As soon as the last shreds of the fantasy left my body, I glanced around. There was no sign of the bear. I heard a few branches crack in the nearby forest and assumed the animal now had his full of berries. Part of me was relieved I had survived this encounter, yet another part—the one that takes over whenever I start to fantasize—wished something else had happened. Something more. Something sexual.

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