Doing the Dirty
by Robert Furlong

 

Part 1

“Do you prefer dating a woman or doing the dirty with a guy?” my son asked me.

I know it’s not a typical question for a nineteen-year-old lad to ask his dad but then Jake and I don’t have what you might call a typical father-son relationship.

“I like the affection and companionship of a relationship with a woman,” I replied.  “But I think I’m starting to prefer sex with my own gender.”

He smiled and nodded.  I knew he was beginning to feel the same way himself, especially about a particular friend of his who he’d met at university.

“What is it about dude sex that you like so much?”

I had to suppress a snigger at ‘dude sex’.  It never ceases to amuse me how Jake avoids the word ‘gay’.

“I suppose it’s the sheer physicality of it,” I responded.  “The way that the guy you’re with is out for the same thing you are… all the excitement, all the passion… the way there’s no holding back…”

“Not to mention that you like having a dick up your butt!” Jake laughed, slugging the conversation into the gutter as he so often likes to do.

I smiled over at him.  We were in our sitting room, having a few drinks before bedtime during one of Jake’s occasional visits from uni.  I was already on my second bottle of wine of the evening, while Jake had managed to work through a whole six pack of beer.

“I suppose there is that too,” I admitted.  “It’s always fun to have the option of whose anatomy goes where!”

“When I’m with Ellie, I really miss that side of sex, actually,” he agreed.

Ellie was his girlfriend, the main constant in his student bed among a succession of young men.

He went on, “I like making love with a girl – and all the boyfriend-girlfriend stuff me and Ellie get up to – but there’s something really horny about shacking up with some random dude for a hump and a dump!”

“A hump and a dump?” I asked, wondering if it was some new scatological craze I hadn’t heard of.

“Yeah, a hump on each other’s backs,” he grinned, “and a dump up each other’s butts!”

I smiled over at him, taking a drink from my wine.  We were being far more candid with each other than we would be if we were sober.  We both knew we were saying more than we ordinarily would, but I thought it was healthy once in a while to be able to chat openly about such personal things without reticence or embarrassment.

“So essentially you mean gay sex!” I teased him, chuckling at his discomfort that I’d used the dreaded g-word.

“Do you miss it too?” he asked, not sharing my amusement.  “When you’re with Debbie, I mean?”

“Miss what?” I asked as I put down my glass.  After downing the first bottle, I seemed to have lost a little of my focus.

“Miss having something up your butt?  When you’re with a woman?”

“Oh, yes… sometimes.  It can feel a little… er… neglected, I suppose.”

“When I’m with Ellie, these days,” he went on with a conspiratorial smirk, “I get her to… well… use her finger on me while I’m… you know… doing my thing on top of her.”

“Use her finger on you?”  The drink must have made me especially dozy.

“Yeah… you know…” he grinned.  “Reach round between my cheeks and work it up my butt!”

“Oh!” I responded.  “That’s very resourceful of you.”

“It feels really nice, actually,” he chuckled across at me.  “You should try it.”

“Doesn’t Ellie mind?” I asked.  From what I’d seen of her she seemed far to prim and proper to go poking around anywhere near my son’s whiffy arse crack.

“She did at first,” he nodded, taking a swig from his pint.  “But I kind of went on and on about it.  Kept telling her how important it was to me and how much I wanted to try it.”

I nodded back, impressed by how persuasive he must be to tempt her to push her hand back there.  Don’t get me wrong – my son has a very attractive behind; I often find myself admiring how muscular his cheeks look, making two round bulges in the back of his jeans.  I’m just under no illusions, from all the abundantly skidded underwear he brings home from uni, about what he’s got down there lurking under the bonnet.

“Once she’d done it a couple of times,” he continued, “and found it wasn’t as messy as she’d thought, she started getting quite into it.  Kind of got to like it.”

I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrows.  “Did she indeed?”

This certainly was a turn up for the books!  Sweet blushing Ellie was in the habit of treating my son to a brown-finger, was she?  She clearly wasn’t half as prissy as I’d assumed if she liked pressing her fingers into what his hairy crevice had left on the back of his boxers.

I asked him, “Didn’t she query why you like having something up your bum during sex?  Wasn’t she… well… a bit concerned…?”

He chuckled indulgently as if that was such an ‘old-school’ question.  I have such out of date ideas, you see, and I should count myself lucky that I have my son to keep me up to speed.

“She knows that dudes have a G-spot up their butts,” he grinned.  “I mean, she’s not totally clueless!”

I smiled and nodded.  “These modern girls, eh?”

“When she was used to it,” he went on, jumping at the chance of educating his old dad, “she started asking to do it.  She’d get me to bend over on all fours and she’d work at me with both hands… you know, one hand on the front with the other pumping away at the back…!”

He beamed triumphantly, no doubt hoping he’d shocked me.

I just laughed across at him at how daft he looked.  I might have never had a girl do anything like that to me, but I’d done some stuff in my time that would probably make him blush.

“Imagine me asking Debbie to do that,” I kept chuckling, after I’d taken another drink.  “I think she’d throw up!”

My on-off girlfriend had made it blisteringly clear that my bum and hers were very much out of bounds during sex.  She had a serious issue with smells and even my sweat could sometimes prove a deal-breaker in the bedroom.

“I’ve even got her to rim me when we’ve been like that,” he added.

“Have you really?”  Now I was genuinely surprised.

“Just occasionally,” he smirked cheekily, clearly pleased to have elicited the reaction he’d been hoping for.  “She has to be pretty drunk, mind!”

I nodded over at him, impressed that he’d manage to coax butter-wouldn’t-melt Ellie to push her face into his stinky crack, even if he had had to ply her with alcohol beforehand.

“It’s a bit of a fantasy of mine,” he went on, “to have Ellie licking my butt while a guy out front slurps away at my dick.  I think that would be so fucking hot!”

Wow – now we really were talking candidly.

He apologised for saying ‘fucking’ but I just shrugged like it didn’t matter.  Given everything else he’d said, it seemed somewhat precious to take issue with what was just a swearword.

It occurred to me – even after all the wine I’d downed – that I ought to manoeuvre our conversation away from such ribaldry.  This was my son admitting some deeply personal things to me and, as the more adult of us, I should be mindful that we’d have to face each other across the breakfast table in the morning.

But this was an interesting chat to be having with Jake.  And let’s face it he was old enough to take responsibility for himself about the private things he was telling me.

So instead I kept the kettle boiling by asking, “Have you tried to engineer a situation to help bring that about?”

“You’ve gotta be really careful what you suggest with girls, haven’t you? I mean, when you’re with another guy you could mention a threesome or whatever and chances are he’d be up for it, but with a girl you’ve got to play it smart.”

I nodded.

“The closest I got,” he continued, “was at T in the Park last summer. There was this guy who’d lost his tent – or he said he had – and we offered for him to share ours.  He was as camp as hell and I figured that in the darkness and with the three of us pushed up against each other, I might be able to wangle things so he’d blow me off while Ellie was tonguing my butt.  Maybe push it even further and in the confusion pretend like I hadn’t realised whose arse I was shagging!  But in the end he was way more interested in copping off with Ellie – had his dick out and was trying to push it in her mouth – so I had to chuck him out.”

“Couldn’t you have worked with that?” I asked.  “Pushed your face into his bum while she was sucking him off?”

He shook his head.  “With Ellie – and probably with a lot of girls – you’ve got to be more subtle.  She’d have seen sucking his dick as a betrayal of me, even if I was enjoying it.  For her to be okay with having another guy join in with us, it would have to be a sort of ‘accidental’ thing like it would have been with all the fumbling and nudging if laddo had played ball.”

I nodded, amused that he’d worked out possible scenarios.

“Come on then, dad,” he urged me after downing another mouthful from his pint.  “I’ve told you my fantasy – what’s yours?”

I smiled.  It wasn’t really fair for him to ask me – I hadn’t asked him to confess his secret desires – but I thought I’d play along.  This was a fun conversation to be having with my son and, with any luck, after everything we’d drank the two of us would barely remember it in the morning.

I took a sip from my wine glass before admitting the scenario that had brought me much masturbatory pleasure over the previous year or so.

“Debbie and I go away for a weekend break with another couple.  Maybe Dan and Eileen from work, but it can vary.”

He smiled and nodded.  We both knew it was implausible – I don’t have friends I would do that sort of thing with – but sexual fantasies don’t necessarily need to have any likelihood of actually happening.

“There’s been a mix-up with the booking, and the four of us end up in one room.”

Now he chuckled.  He knew that old chestnut.

“For some reason – and, again, it can vary – the women have to share a bed while the two of us guys bunk up together.”

“Why would you have to do that?” Jake asked, still smirking before downing another gobful from his beer.  “There’s got to be some rhyme and reason to it.”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged.  “Maybe the second bed was one of those small pull-out futon things, and the women – being dainty and petite – would be more willing to use it.”

“So the upshot is, you guys get to share the double bed?” Jake grinned.

“That’s the general idea,” I smiled back.

“So then what happens?” Jake asked, stifling a belch.

“Again, it can vary.  But usually things start up in the middle of the night, with Dan and I rubbing up against each other in our sleep.  He works his hard-on against my bum, or I do the same to his, and soon we’re pulling our underwear off and kissing each other as we gradually wake up.  We can’t believe how much we’re enjoying doing stuff together as two horny men, and then one of the women switches the light on so they can both see us squatting there, masturbating each other’s erections on the bed.”

“Nice,” Jake laughed.  “So does that put an end to it?”

“Of course not,” I chuckled back.  “That’s only the start.  It turns out the women are really turned on by what we’re doing and encourage us to do more while they start… er… enjoying themselves together.”

“Wow!” Jake grinned.  “What do you guys do?”

“We go down on each other – maybe even work our faces lower down and lick underneath each other’s balls – and all the time the women are getting hotter and more horny.  They pull their nighties off and start fingering each other while they watch us two men exploring each other’s bodies.”

“You guys actually rim each other out in front of them?” with an eager expression.

“In some versions of the fantasy, yes,” I smiled.  “We get into an anal sixty-nine – you know, the two of us with our faces pressed into each other’s bums – with the women calling out for us to lick the other guy’s hairy crack and tongue his tight little arsehole so they can see it!”

“Oh, nice,” Jake laughed.  “Do you guys end up letting them see you butt-fucking?”

“Invariably yes,” I smiled.  “By then the women are all over each other – licking each other’s breasts and giving each other head – while us men are roughly and passionately –”

I found I couldn’t say ‘fucking’ even though Jake just had.

So instead I went on, “having full intercourse on the bed.”

“Which way round?” he asked.  “What does it for you?”

I smiled at his directness.  If only I’d been so open and unashamed about sexual stuff at his age.

“We take turns on each other, which the women love.  They both like seeing their men being penetrated by the other’s big thick erection, so they keep calling out to us, urging us to keep swapping places for them.”

“And you guys are well into each other?”

“We can’t get enough of it,” I laughed.  “We’re both horny as hell for each other’s bums – feasting on each other’s huge gaping holes between taking turns to frantically mount each other – but we love the feel of having the other guy inside us too.  We’re both sweating and calling out from the feel of having our arses filled by the other guy’s thrusting hard-on.”

“Always in a doggy position?” Jake asked.

“Oh yes,” I agreed.

“And with the guy in front always hard?”

“Rock hard,” I smiled.  “Painfully so.”

“That’s the best,” Jake nodded.  “That position is always hot, no matter which two guys are drilling each other.”

“In my fantasy, the women reach their orgasms first,” I continued, “before the two of us men take our cue and finish ourselves off.  Usually I like to imagine the other man discharging himself up inside me just as I’m climaxing from his hand.  The women obviously love to see their men achieving release together – they cheer us on while we’re both gasping and panting.”

Jake laughed loudly and energetically, and for a second I thought he was going to burst into applause.

“That’s steaming, that is!” he called out.  “It’s well hot!”

While he was still eagerly grinning over at me, I suddenly noticed that the crotch of his jeans was tenting prominently upwards.  My son made no attempt to hide his bulge, not even by crossing his legs, and the large size he’d inherited from me made its state of excitement unmistakable.

He saw me looking at it and smirked more broadly.  Jake treated his erections like he treats his farts: parading them flagrantly and with forthright amusement.

“You obviously enjoyed that scenario,” I observed.

“Yeah, it’s a lot better than the bedtime stories you used to tell me when I was a kid!”

I chuckled and he added, “I bet this one’ll get me to sleep pretty quickly tonight!”

I realised what he meant and I couldn’t help but blush.  That probably seems silly after the vulgarity of what I’d just told him, but the thought that my son was about to use an image of me having sex with another man as a masturbatory aid came as a bit of a surprise.

He saw my reaction and said, “Oh come on, dad!  It was a really horny story – of course it turned me on!”

“I know that… it’s just… you know how I get, Jake.”

“Did my story not turn you on?  The threesome in the tent…?”

“Not really, no.  But I admit the thought of you picking up a guy at a music festival to share your tent is somewhat intriguing.”

“Okay,” he grinned, the large mound next to the fly of his jeans showing no signs of lessening.  “I’ll tell you another fantasy of mine.  I reckon you’ll like this one.”

I looked at the clock on the mantelpiece.  “It’s after one, Jake.  We should be getting to bed.”

“It won’t take long,” he insisted.  “And it’s not like we have to be up in the morning.”

“Okay, then,” I smiled.  “But you’ll have to top my glass up first.”

He chuckled and pushed himself up out of the armchair.  He was a tall lad now: somewhere over six two.  He’d been gangly a few years ago but was filling out nicely.  He worked out when he could be arsed, which wasn’t that often, but his musculature seemed to be coming through naturally. Presumably he’d inherited that from his mother’s side because I’d never shown any tendency towards muscle.

As he filled up our drinks, I wondered again if I ought to draw this to a close.  Sharing our bisexual fantasies was interesting but perhaps our conversation was crossing a line.  I was sure we wouldn’t be talking together like this if we were both straight, or indeed if only one of us enjoyed sex with our own gender, but since we’d simultaneously discovered our willingness to gender hop, it seemed natural for us to want to share our experiences.

Still, Jake was my son and I should be more careful of what I say to him. He might enjoy exchanging stories and fantasies with me – his jeans had shown just how much – but I was his dad when all said and done and it was right and proper that I should maintain a certain level of paternal detachment.

Jake strolled back into the room with our drinks and, before I could tell him I was moving the topic of conversation on, said, “Okay so there was this day when Marcus and I had been at it all morning and then like five minutes after we’d finished, Ellie turns up.”

Now this was intriguing: I loved hearing stories about his friend Marcus. The two of them were regular fuck-buddies and enjoyed an intensity to their relationship which I often thought rivalled that of he and his girlfriend.

He passed me my wine and plonked himself back down in the armchair.

“Our butts were full of each other’s cum.  I only tell you that because it’s relevant.”

“Okay,” I said, readily abandoning my intention to draw the conversation to a close.  “I take it Ellie still doesn’t know about what you guys get up to?”

“Naah, she’d do her nut!” he grinned.  “When she turns up at my room after he’s stayed over with me, she usually says the rooms stinks of farts, like the two of us have spent all night queefing off.  She has no idea that she’s smelling our butt sex and the stinkier it is, the more times we’ve been at it!”

I chuckled over at him, admiring his deceit instead of being disapproving of it as I knew I should be.

“So, this day I’m talking about, she turns up and says, right out of the blue, that she fancies a shag.  Normally I’d be well up for that – she normally plays hard to get so the way she was coming onto me would have ordinarily turned me on – but after going at it with Marcus all morning and shooting up his arse two or three times, I wasn’t really in the mood.”

He took a gulp from his drink before carrying on.

“She won’t take no for an answer and starts suggesting things which she hopes will get me going.  In the end I agree to do the thing I told you about earlier – bend down on all fours on the bed so she can use both hands on me.”

“Is this your fantasy?” I asked.  “Or did this really happen?”

“This first part really happened,” he nodded.  “The fantasy part is how I wish things had turned out.”

“Okay,” I smiled, gesturing for him to continue.

“She starts playing with my floppy – I really wasn’t in the mood – and then when she looks at my butt she says, ‘Bloody hell, Jake.  Your arsehole’s massive and it’s sticking right out!'”

“Oops,” I grinned.  Been there, done that.

“I’m like, ‘It’s okay, Ell, it’s just a bit sore,’ but then when she goes to finger it, a load of Marcus’ spunk comes trickling out.”

“Oh no!” I called over, covering my mouth to hide my smile.

“She says, ‘Oh God, that’s fucking disgusting that is!  What the hell have you been doing?’  And I’m like, ‘Oh fuck I’m so sorry!  I’ve been really sore back there and I put some lotion up it.'”

“Did she buy that?”

“Yeah, though God knows how.  I guess she thought that arse cream must look and smell like spunk.”

I chuckled.  “What did she do?”

“Needless to say, it kind of spoiled the moment.  She went off to wash her hands and when she came back she didn’t say anything more about us doing anything.”

“So what’s the fantasy?”

“Well this is where it gets a bit weird.”

I smiled over at him.  “And my fantasy wasn’t?”

“Not like this.  A few days later, I was bored in the library trying to finish an assignment.”

I almost choked on my wine on hearing that.  Of all the things Jake told the idea he would actually take time to study at university was probably the most shocking.

“I was thinking back to the whole butt-spunk thing, and I guess in my boredom I started imagining different ways it could have gone.”

“If she’d recognised the white dribble for what it was?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he smirked.  “And if she’d liked it!”

“Liked the fact her boyfriend had just had his bum filled with another lad’s semen?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled.  “And if she’d been turned on by it!”

I nodded.  That was an interesting thought.  I was pleased that my son had inherited my sexual imagination rather than his mother’s.  If he’d taken his mother’s, the merest suggestion of sex would have had him running for the hills.

“What did you imagine her doing?” I asked.

“Tasting and licking Marcus’ jizz as it oozed out of my arse… smearing it all over her face and then rubbing it on her tits.  And fingering herself with it – yeah, I liked the thought of that.”

“I bet you did,” I smiled.

“Then getting me to call Marcus up and bring him back round.  Having him on all fours with my spunk dribbling out of his butthole just like his was from mine.  Her right there between his butt-cheeks, lapping at it like melting ice-cream, getting it on her hands and wanking me off with it.”

“Wow,” was all I could manage.

“Then the two of us bending over for her, so she could lick our cum out of each other’s arseholes.  Me and him snogging with her taking turns to rim us both, then wanking each other off as fast and hard as we could, with her using both hands on our spunky holes.”

“Bloody hell, Jake!”

He laughed at my alarmed expression.  My eyes felt like they were bulging out of my head.

“Uncross your legs, dad,” he requested of me.

I smiled at him and did so, revealing for him a swollen mound in my trousers just as large as his own.

“Haha!” he called out.  “Works both ways, doesn’t it!”

I chuckled back, glancing down at my large protruberance.  “It would seem so.”

He rubbed his own bulge and said, “You know what would be cool?”

“What?” I asked, taking a drink from my wine.

“For us to wank ourselves off!” he smirked.

“I fully intend to, Jake, once I’m in bed.  The thought of Ellie crouching behind you and Marcus, doing what you just described, is worthy of a much more thorough consideration!”

“I didn’t mean like that,” he said, his grin steadily broadening.

“Yes, well I’m sure you’re going to be busy in your own room too.  My foursome scenario will no doubt have your headboard banging against the wall at full pelt.”

“I meant we should have a wank together,” he chuckled over naughtily.

“Together?”

“Yeah, right now, like this.  Keks down, shorts down, hands going at it.”

“Masturbate in front of each other?”

“Yeah, why not?  We’re hardly two blushing angels, are we?”

“It wouldn’t seem right, Jake.  I mean, you’re still my kid when all said and done.”

“Come on, dad,” he laughed.  “It’s not like I’m suggesting we shag each other or anything.  Just a quick wazz-off together.  We’d be doing it anyway once we go upstairs to bed – what’s the difference if we do it together?”

“Quite a big difference, Jake,” I said.  Even in my drunken state, I could see that masturbating with my son in our living room was a significant step up from us having a discreet tug in our separate beds.

“Let’s get the ball rolling,” he chuckled, undoing his belt and the buttons of his fly, and shuffling upwards to pull his jeans down.

“Jake, I don’t think –”

He yanked his pink and grey boxer trunks down and his hard-on slapped up against his stomach.  It was bigger than I remembered it – perhaps slightly longer than mine.  His foreskin had half-retracted, exposing the bright red head of his organ, and his scrotum sagged down between his legs, the skin stretched taut from the weight of his large, commodious balls.

“What the problem?  It’s not like we haven’t seen each other’s knobs loads of times before!” he called over as he pushed his jeans and underwear down around his ankles and then squatted upwards on the chair with his legs wide open.

“Jake, really,” I began, before I noticed that, from the splayed position he was in, his anus was on proud display right in front of me.  The ring was a deep purple colour, puffy and swollen from the many times he’d taken other lads’ cocks up there, and the skin on both sides of it was clumped with hair, forming two dark brackets around the puckered O of his entrance.

Even though it was my son’s, I had to admit it was an especially beautiful arsehole, and my cock strained in my trousers at the alluring sight it made.

He grabbed his engorged manhood and started gently fondling it, grinning over at me with mischievous delight.  “Get your dick out, dad!  Stop fannying about!  It’ll be fun to pull our puds together!”

He reached down beneath his balls with his other hand and stretched his middle finger towards his hole.  He teased it – and me – by gently running his fingertip around his bloated circumference and said, “We can show each other a few tricks, if you like!”

I had to admit, he was being very persuasive.  It would be exciting for the two of us to masturbate together, and as he’d said, it wasn’t like we were having actual sex with each other.  One might even argue it was wholesome for a father and son to share moments of intimacy together.

I was feeling so horny that my own erection was making a wet patch near my right pocket.  The thing was throbbing so hard at the idea of following Jake’s example that the head was making a distinctive helmet shape even through my trousers and underwear.

“Okay then,” I conceded, undoing my belt.

“Nice one, dad!” Jake laughed over at me.  “Last one to spunk has to clean up the mess!”

 

Part 2

It’s odd but strangely compelling to watch your own son masturbating right there in front of you.  I was fascinated to see how different his technique was from my own – his hand seemed so much more frantic and his fingers more agile – while marvelling at so many physical similarities between us.

His cock was ever so slightly bigger than mine, but other than that our organs were almost identical in every respect.  His bulbous helmet was a deep shiny purple the way mine gets when I’m pleasuring myself, while the great, swollen shaft of his manhood had only the same, light coursing of veins that mine has.  He had a raised thick ridge running down the underside of his erection every bit as prominent the one I have, and his balls were as fat and as full as mine swell to: almost bulging with his semen which would no doubt be just as copious and strong-smelling as my own.

What was truly riveting, though – even more than watching my son’s hand sweeping so impatiently up and down his imposing hard-on – was the sight of his arsehole between his splayed legs.  It was red and swollen and puckered prominently outwards through the dense wiry fur of his butt-crack. Jake liked to be fucked – he made no secret of that – and the conspicuous bloat of his anus made it obvious that he’d recently been on the receiving of a large number of young men’s cocks just as big and thick and demanding as his own.

He saw my interest in watching him jerking off, no doubt following my eyes from his impressive erection down to his largy puffy ring protruding outwards from the forest between his cheeks.  He grinned and licked his lips, enjoying throwing his dad a masturbatory show, and his arsehole opened wide of its own accord, gaping to the diameter of a modestly-sized penis.

I could see what he meant about feeling that something was ‘missing’ when he had sex which didn’t include his backside.  His bum kept clamping open and closed as if trying to squeeze the shaft of one of his friend’s cocks and seeming frustrated that it remained empty.

“Come on, then, dad,” he laughed over at me.  “Join in with me – it’ll be fun to wank off together!”

I hitched my trousers down to my knees and he chuckled at the size of his old man’s hard-on straining inside his tight white briefs.  The tip of it had made a large round damp patch and the darkening head of it could be seen through the translucent material.

“I don’t know why we’ve never done this before,” he said.  “All the years we’ve lived together.”

I smiled back at him, pulling my briefs down to join my trousers around my knees.  “I don’t think it’s quite the done thing, Jake.  It’s not what one might call a typical father-and-son activity.”

He chortled at that, still pumping his large cock.  “Maybe not, but it should be.  Have you ever wanked off with another dude?  In a non-sexual sense, I mean?”

I laughed over at him, pulling my foreskin back from the ripened head of my cock and jerking it a few times along the thickened shaft.  “How do you wank off with a guy in a non-sexual sense?”

“I mean, not as part of the two of you having sex.  Just the two of you as friends, enjoying a wazz-off together.”

I shook my head, gently massaging my cock in what was a pale imitation of my son’s rapid and energetic foreskin-yanking technique.  “No, I can’t say I’ve done that.  Have you?”

“Yeah, loads of times,” he grinned.  “With different mates at different times.  At scout camp… during stopovers… anytime me and a mate were sharing a room.  Sometimes just for the hell of it when we were bored.”

“You and your friends have masturbated together?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.  “Not touching each other or anything – just having a wank in front of each other.  It’s nice… kind of intimate without being… you know… ‘gay’ or anything.  There’s nothing deep or meaningful about it… it’s just… I dunno… a ‘bro’ thing maybe.”

“It sounds nice,” I agreed.  “I can understand the appeal.”

“A bit like this,” he smiled.  “Just the two of us doing something private and sexy together which doesn’t mean anything more than what it is.”

“Absolutely,” I smiled back.  “We go to the loo in front of each other… I suppose this isn’t hugely different.”

“Sit up like I am,” he suggested.  “Open your legs wide like mine so your balls hang low.”

I did as he was asking, pushing my trousers and underwear down to my ankles.  Now I knew it was no accident that he was letting me see his arsehole: he was sitting that way deliberately because he wanted to see mine.

I squatted upwards with my legs wide open and he peered into the hairiness of my crack underneath where my big, heavy balls were dangling between my thighs.  I knew my hole would look just as large as his and I pushed my hips forwards to flaunt it for him, making it emerge from between my cheeks like a pink puckered hoop.

His mouth formed into a broad smirk and he tittered, “Bloody hell, dad! You can see you like a big dick up you!  Your arsehole’s massive!”

“Er… pots and kettles spring to mind, Jake!  Yours is hardly a tight little balloon knot.”

He laughed and groped under his knackers to feel at how large and round his own tush was.

“Oh yeah,” he chortled, “it is pretty shameless really!  I’m gonna end up with mudflaps if I’m not careful!”

He rubbed his finger around his flagrant swollen gape and asked, “Do you like it when a guy’s arse is really loose and stretched open like mine is, or do you prefer it when he bends over and he’s got a little tiny clenched freckle?”

“I can’t say it’s a big deal to me, Jake, but I suppose it puts less pressure on me to know that the bloke I’m with has had some experience of having another man… you know… mount him.”

“For me, it’s a case of the smaller the better,” he grinned.  “I like it when I’m rimming a dude’s arse and his butthole’s so clamped up I can’t even get my tongue up it!  And then when I’m fucking him, I love it when it’s so small and tight it can squeeze my cock so hard the shaft comes out purple!”

I grinned and glanced at my over-sized shaft as I wanked it.  “That’s fine in theory, but I like to be sure that I’m going to be able to work this huge thing up the other fella’s chuff!  There’s nothing as frustrating as having to give up because your buddy’s back-end is way too narrow.”

“I know what you’re saying,” he nodded, “but I prefer to take the risk!  I like the lad I’m with to be a bit… you know… virginal, maybe.  A big chubby cock out front, but a cute little crinkle round the back!  I hate prizing a lad’s arse cheeks apart and finding he’s been such a total tart that he’s got a train-wreck of a boycunt that looks like you could get a tree-trunk up it!”

I flinched at his use of the c-word before teasing him, “Talk about double standards, Jake!  I mean, yours is hardly virginal!”

“I know,” he grinned, fondling his own not unsubstantial boycunt again with an outstretched finger.  “I’ve just overdone it a bit, but it’ll soon shrink back.”

“Overdone it a bit?”

He chuckled and threw me a naughty look with a rather delightful twinkle in his eye.  “The night before I came home was… well… let’s just say it was a good one!”

We kept masturbating and smiling at each other, my hand slowly picking up speed and pumping more and more of my length although his was clearly way out front on both counts.

He was right: it was nice to stimulate ourselves in front of each other. We were very close as father and son and perhaps it was natural for us to occasionally include self-gratification among the wide range of things we did together.  It didn’t feel particularly ‘wrong’ to see my son in front of me enjoying rubbing his erection and it didn’t feel improper for me to be pleasuring my own with him looking on.

There was actually something rather cosy to know that we were sufficiently comfortable and confident around each other to be doing something so private together like this.  I liked the sensation and hoped we could repeat it again.

“So how was your last night in Leeds a good one?” I asked him with my hand steadily sliding up and down my engorged shaft.  “Come on, give me details!”

“There were five of us,” he grinned, his own fist easily outpacing his father’s rhythm.  “We all did each other… took it in turns.”

“You had four different dicks up there?” I chuckled.  “No wonder it’s stretched to buggery… if you’ll… er… pardon the pun…”

“Have you ever heard of doing a centipede?” he asked with a cheeky smirk.

“No,” I admitted.  “But I don’t think it takes a huge leap of the imagination to figure out what it involves.”

“It was more funny than sexy.  The five of us walking around like that, all joined together with our dicks up each other’s butts, thrusting against each other in a sort of pulsating row.”

I grinned across at him.  “It sounds like quite a sight.”

“My flatmates thought it was hilarious,” he smirked back, reaching down between his legs again to probe the swollen ring nestling between his hairy cheeks.  He eased a finger into its puffy round entrance, clearly enjoying the memory of having the guy behind him connect their bodies together by working his erection up it.

“You let your flatmates see you?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he laughed.  “We were a bit drunk – totally hammered, actually – and when we saw how awesome we looked, the five of us lads linked together hip-to-butt, we waddled out into the common room like some weird ten-legged five-headed creature.”

“Oh my God!” I couldn’t help but laugh back.  “How many guys were in there?”

“It wasn’t just guys – some of them had their girlfriends over.  There were maybe like ten or twelve people in there.”

“Wow!”

“They’d all had a few bevvies too, so they were up for having a laugh. Some of them were actually filming us on their phones!”

“And you paraded around in front of them?” I asked.  “The five of you having sex in a row?”

“Yeah,” he grinned, with his cock throbbing as he jerked its thick, delicately veined shaft and his anal ring gaping outwards as he teased it with his finger.  “We did it so they could see we were doing it for real… really exaggerating our movements so they could see our boners sliding in and out of each other’s hairy butt-cracks!”

“Weren’t you embarrassed?”

“Not at all!” he chortled.  “It was really horny – especially letting the girls look at me like that.  Having them see me with some dude’s big thick cock wedged between my cheeks and with mine pushed up the arse of the guy in front.  It felt totally hot, actually!”

“And how did they all react?” I laughed, my own hand speeding up on my hugely engorged manhood.

“The guys got pretty rowdy,” he chuckled back.  “They were cheering and calling out stuff, telling us to do it faster and to fuck each other harder.  The girls were just laughing… I think they were getting turned-on, actually… watching five fit lads go at it on each other’s tight butts!”

“I bet some of the guys were too!”

“Yeah, they probably were!” he tittered.  “I reckon some of them asked their girlfriends if they could do it leapfrog-style that night to relive the moment!”

I laughed and he asked, “So what’s the most outrageous thing you’ve ever done, dad?”

I smiled and replied, “I think masturbating with my son must be up there somewhere!”

He grinned and I saw him work the whole length finger into his inflamed hole.  He left there momentarily and then slid it almost out.  Then in again, and back out to the knuckle, until he’d established a slow, deliberate rhythm of stimulating his bum.

He closed his eyes and muttered, “That feels really nice!”  Then his pace rapidly quickened and he started fingering himself with much faster, rougher strokes.  He sighed, “Aaah… that is so good,” still with his eyes closed, and I suddenly caught a whiff of my son’s characteristically odorous behind, smelling much cruder and harsher than my own ever does and reminding me of our bathroom after he’s finished one of his long stints in there.

He saw me watching him indulging in a rampant bout of anal fingering in front of his old dad, and said, “Sorry, but I really need my tush tickled when I jack off!”

I chuckled and shrugged.  “Don’t apologise, Jake.  It’s perfectly natural.”

He grinned naughtily and said, “In that case… d’ya wanna join me?”

I wavered and he glanced at my large yawning hole, puffed outwards and no doubt looking like it could use a little probing of its own, before quipping, “I mean, it does make it feel a hell of a lot better!”

“I am rather aware of that,” I smirked.

“Well, what’s stopping you, then?  Like you say, it’s perfectly natural…”

I reached down and extended my middle finger to delicately caress my plump puckered hole.  Jake peered at me, his mouth breaking into a smirk, as I gently rubbed my gaping entrance with my other hand slamming up and down the huge girth of my shaft.  Smiling back at him, I circled it a few times, making the thin flimsy skin around my anus puff outwards as it swelled and ripened, while the tight ring of muscle in the middle unclenched and gaped open as if inviting me to ease my finger inside.

“God, seeing you do that looks so fucking hot!” Jake called over to me with his mouth broadly grinning in enthusiasm.  Then, anticipating my disapproval, added, “I mean you look hot in a totally… you know… paternal way!”

I chuckled at the absurdity and slowly eased my finger into my cock-loosened sphincter.

“Aah yeah!” I sighed as my finger pushed deep up inside my well-used arsehole.  Then, pulling it out again, added, “That feels really good!”

I started sliding it in and out with a steady rhythm, allowing my momentum to increase as I relaxed into the strange sensation of having my son watch me masturbate myself anally as well as in the conventional sense.

He grinned at me, nodding and enjoying the show, and then sniffed the air curiously as if getting a whiff of something new and unfamiliar.

“I can smell it,” he told me.  “I can smell you fingering your butt!”

Feeling uncomfortable at his frankness, I stammered, “Sorry… er… is it a bit… unpleasant?”

“No!” he laughed.  “It’s just the smell of butt-sex.  It’s like when you have a bloke over for the night and he’s shagging your arse so hard I can smell it from my bedroom!”

I chuckled, relieved, and asked, “Does it turn you on when you can smell our sex?”

“Yeah,” he grinned.  “Can you smell my butt being fingered?”

I sniffed and agreed, “Quite distinctly.  It’s quite harsh and pungent… very obviously anal.”

He smirked and nodded, well aware that his bum had a strong odour to it. “Does it remind you of when I have Marcus to stay and we’re going at it in the next bedroom?”

“A bit, yeah,” I conceded.  “But it reminds me more of when I come into your room on a morning and it’s clear that both your hands have just been busy under the duvet.”

He blurted out with laughter.  “Oh Jeez!  You can actually smell that?”

I chuckled back.  “The mixture of semen and of… well… bumminess is pretty hard to miss!”

He chortled and I watched his eager finger lunging rapidly in and out of his pudgy ring which was extruding obscenely from between his hairy cheeks.

He looked at mine too, sliding back and forth more deliberately but gradually quickening as I savoured the steady acceleration, and asked, “Is this how you like to have your butt fucked, then dad?  D’ya like the other fella to start off nice and slow, then slowly speed up ’til he’s banging your arse really fast and hard?”

I chuckled, letting my right hand and my finger speed up a little towards matching his pace.

“Yes, I do enjoy it when the passion steadily builds.  But I don’t always let the other bloke dictate how fast we go – my own hips have a lot to do with deciding when it’s time to up the tempo.”

He grinned and said, “I like it best when it’s fast from the outset.”

“Really, Jake?” I asked, peering at his finger slamming urgently in and out of his swollen purple opening.  “I would never have guessed.”

“Yeah,” he laughed, missing the irony, “I fucking love it that way!  When the guy I’m with just spits on his dick and then rams it the fuck up me! And then for him to plough my arse really full-on with his hips whacking against mine!”

“That’s a very… er… stimulating image,” I admitted, allowing my hand to pump my foreskin still faster.

“The rougher the better,” he grinned, with his hand speeding up even faster as it frantically pumped his glistening erection.  “I love it when it’s fast and sweaty!  I like to know how much the lad shagging me really needs the fuck and for him to know that I can’t wait to have my turn getting my knob stuck up his big brown gash!”

“Big brown gash!” I laughed.  “Very eloquently put!”

We smirked at each other as our hands pounded up and down our similarly-sized manhoods and our two big heavy pairs of bollocks bobbed around against our fists.  Jake worked a second finger into his huge, hungry hole and then squeezed in a third.  I followed his example so that we were both roughly fingering ourselves with a girth similar to that of a fairly slim erection.

Jake sniffed the air a few times and laughed at the distinctly bawdy whiff my gouge was giving off with three fingers pumping in and out of it.

“Cor!” he grinned at me.  “I can really smell your stink now!”

“It’s not stink,” I countered, blushing slightly.  “It’s just… well… a bit of rear odour…”

“It’s full-on bum-stink, dad,” he chortled, “straight from your hot slimy tush!  And – believe me – it’s totally fucking awesome!”

I smiled at him, appreciating the compliment, and pushed my bum further out towards him to give him a stronger smell of it.

“You like it, then, do you, Jake?” I asked.  “You like the smell quite strong?”

“I love it!” he grinned back, jerking his big cock rough and hard.  “It’s the stink of dudes having butt sex and it’s as horny as fuck!”

I smiled over at him, enjoying the smell myself, and he directed his arse more towards me, frigging himself with fast stabbing strokes.

“Can you smell mine?” he asked.  “Does it stink dead nasty and dirty?”

I inhaled deeply and was surprised at how intense and overpowering Jake’s lewd backdoor musk now was.

“It’s like when you’ve got Marcus staying over,” I told him.  “And I can smell the stink of his cock banging away at your arse.”

“Do you wank off when you sniff it?” he leered.

“Yeah,” I grinned back.  “Do you wank off when you smell some bloke on my back, making a stink when he’s rutting with me?”

“Of course I do!” he replied.  “I sniff it hard and deep and wank off really fast!”

We laughed with each other as our hands did their work, sniffing the air to enjoy the stark pungent whiffs of each other’s arseholes being so deeply cuffed.

Then he said, “You didn’t tell me what the most outrageous thing you’ve done is.”

“Oh that,” I smiled, feeling myself getting breathless and my armpits growing wet.  “I suppose that would have to be about three months ago.”

He nodded, panting, clearly preparing himself for an imminent climax and hoping that my story would bring fruit to bear.

“It happened in a… er… public toilet,” I began, gauging his response warily as I’d never before admitted to him that I frequented such places for sex with other men.  He didn’t look surprised but just nodded and smirked; I could tell from his reaction that he was no stranger himself to the illicit pleasures of such places.

“There was a group of us at the urinals,” I continued, “standing around with our trousers yanked down, beating our pricks off for each other to watch.”

His smirk grew broader.  He’d no doubt been there, done that and had the t-shirt depicting that particular activity stashed away in his closet somewhere.

“One or two of the men would squat down and suck the other men’s cocks while the rest of us watched and wanked ourselves off.”

“You’ll have to let me know where these loos are,” he laughed, his two hands hammering like a pair of pistons: one making long, curving sweeps out in front of him, the other down below making short, driving jabs.

“I’m not keen on being orally pleasured myself,” I told him.  “But I like the sight of another man having his erection tended to by an eager, stubbled face.”

“So did you squat down yourself?” he asked.  “Get yourself a gobful of beefsteak?”

“I did squat down, yes,” I admitted.  “But it wasn’t their meat I wanted to get my mouth around.”

“You didn’t!” he chortled.  “You didn’t actually rim the arses of strangers in a blokes’ bogs, did you?”

“I’m afraid I did,” I chuckled back.  “I knelt down behind them while they were having their knobs sucked, pulled the backs of their boxer shorts or briefs down and then pressed my nose and mouth between their big hefty butt-cheeks.”

“Oh fuck!” he laughed with sweat streaming down his face.  “You actually licked their arseholes!  A group of random fellas in a gents’ loo?”

“It was amazing!” I recalled with both hands expressing my enthusiasm. “The sheer variety of all the different men’s bums… squat muscular ones, broad and flabby ones.  Some were smooth and almost hairless and were like silk to nuzzle my face into.  Others were bristling with a coarse wiry forest, matted in thick clumps where their slimy puckers were waiting for my tongue!”

“Oh Jesus!” he guffawed.  “You dirty sod!”

“And they smelled and tasted so different,” I went on.  “At one end were the subtle ones which had only the faintest whiff to them and were almost sensual to lap my tongue against.  At the other end were the ripe and raunchy ones, which had a crude, carnal stink to them that was bracingly fierce.  But they were so incredible… all their different hot, sticky buttholes, so tight and so blokeish, lurking between their round sweaty cheeks!”

“Wow!” he kept laughing, jerking himself off front and back.  “And you actually ate them out… had your tongue up their chuds?”

“Those who wanted me to, yes,” I nodded.  “Some would pull away, embarrassed, when they felt my tongue pushing at their rosebuds, while others would get well into it – grab my head and push my face into their stink, grinding my face against their big manly arses until they could feel my tongue sliding up their hot, tight chutes.”

“Oh, that is well nasty!” he guffawed, his face clearly showing how impressed he was with his old dad’s vulgarity.  “Kneeling down behind all the fellas butts in a public john!  Pulling their pants down and shoving your face into their skanky arse-cracks!”

I could tell from the way he was really pummelling his straining rod that his orgasm was close.  He was retelling my story to push himself the last few yards towards his fountaining finish line.

“That wasn’t all I did,” I told him triumphantly.

“No?” he gasped.  I could smell the sour reek of his precum and pube-sweat. The wiry hair between his cheeks was plastered to his skin from the dew trickling down from his huge heaving nutsack.

“No,” I grinned.  “When they were all wanking off around me, I crouched down and did this…”

I steadied my hand on my shaft and bobbed my head down so I could get my mouth over my big purple shiny cock head.  I suckled it like an over-grown teat, licking at the clear fluid that oozed from the slit and working my lips across it so I could slurp at it with my mouth right around it.

“Ah yeah!” Jake called out.  “Suck your own big fat cock, dad!”

I looked over at him as I swept my mouth up and down on my pulsing helmet, and smiled at how he was gawping at me, pounding his throbbing shaft faster than ever.

“You look so hot like that, dad!” he told me.  “Sucking your massive dork while you’re finger-fucking your arse!”

I kept sucking at myself, feeling my balls start to tingle and knowing I was going to cum, with three fingers battering in and out of my swollen gape.

Suddenly Jake stopped wanking and held his cock upright, then abruptly bobbed his head down low so he could consume the top few inches of it.  I’d often suspected my son could self-fellate as I could, but the sight of him doing it right there in front of me was nevertheless enthralling.

I stared at him in awe, watching his lips sweep hypnotically up and down the top of his shaft, his cock head remaining snug inside his mouth.  He was far more adept than I was – perhaps indulging more regularly in the habit – and I ogled across in sheer fascination at how much pleasure my son’s body was able to provide him with.

It wasn’t actually the sight of him self-sucking that triggered my orgasm, but rather noticing how my son’s three fingers were streaked with brown as they plunged in and out of his bloated purple furrow.

I came in my own mouth, which isn’t my favourite sensation I have to admit, but I knew that seeing me self-fertilising with my own jizm spilling out of my lips was almost bound to accomplish a similar reaction from Jake.

Which it did.  With gusto.

With my own climax abating, it was interesting to watch Jake experience his own as a dispassionate observer.  He was, as I’d noticed, far more adept at pleasuring himself with his mouth and that included the ability to swallow copious outpourings of his own spunk as rapidly as it was discharged from his thrusting member.

Watching my son’s hunched body contorting and bucking as his huge phallus unloaded its semen in spasms down his throat reminded me of a wasp doubled over and stinging itself.  His cock had that same mechanical, almost instinctive, motion and his face was screwed up into what looked like a painful wince.

After he’d finished gorging on his own ball juice, he pulled off his cock, looked up at me and we were both unable to stop ourselves from laughing. For some reason it seemed outrageously funny to be staring across at each other with our hard-ons still proud and soaking wet from our own mouths, and our lips spattered with the dregs of our spent seed.

If I’d expected us to be embarrassed or uncomfortable after what we’d just done, I couldn’t have been more wrong.  We giggled across at each other for what seemed like a full minute, chortling at each other’s big softening pricks and finding it inexplicably hilarious that we both had thick gobs of white semen sticking to our teeth.

When our laughter had subsided, Jake came out with, “Best think about spunking off down your own throat is that it makes the clean up a bit easier!”

I smiled across at him, “I think your fingers will need quite a lot of soap and hot water!”

He looked at them, smeared with his own bum, and grinned back at me.

“I better save a lot of it for you, then!”

I looked at my own and, finding them in a far more obscene state, blushed and muttered, “Oh God, sorry…”

Jake laughed at that and shrugged, “Come on, dad, it’s just what happens when you do butt stuff!  There’s nothing to be embarrassed about!”

I grabbed a box of tissues from the coffee table drawer and started wiping my fingers off before tossing the box across to Jake.  “It’s just a bit… well… disgusting that you saw me working my own hole with my fingers looking so vulgar…”

He laughed again, wiping his own hand.  “When you finger a girl you’re gonna get it covered in goo, when you do it to a guy, you’re gonna get yourself a chocolate finger!  It’s just how it goes – it’s kinda, you know, part of the fun!”

I stood up and started pulling my underwear and trousers back up.  “I’m glad you said that.  It’s very rude but I know what you mean!”

He stood up too and nodded, “Looks like we’ve got another thing in common!”

I grinned and said, “Yeah.  And I like that you’re a big fan of doing it in the doggy position.  I’ve always preferred it that way… with another man, I mean.”

He smirked at that and said, “It’s funny how lads who are new to doing butt stuff with other lads, pretty much always want to avoid the doggy position… I reckon they think it’s too ‘gay’ to have to bend over and stick their arses out…”

“Is that right?” I asked, doing up my belt.  “I find older men are generally quite comfortable about getting on all fours and have me mount them from behind.”

He nodded, fastening up his trousers, and added, “Younger guys can get really weird about it.  If they’re up for anal they’ll usually want to do it in a way that doesn’t feel like proper bumming – you know, doing it missionary style and riding each other’s dicks.  But once they realise how good it feels to do each other from behind, most of them stop giving a shit about what we look like while we’re doing it!”

I grinned.  “I had no idea that young men your age would view the doggy position as being more ‘gay’ than other forms of homosexual sex.”

“Well not all of them, but a lot of them do,” he affirmed.  “Once they’re into it, though – taking turns to bend over for each other – I think the whole ‘gay’ aspect of it gets to be part of a sort of shock appeal. I’ve had guys taking selfies with me shagging them from behind, and filming themselves going at my butt while I’m squatting on all fours.”

I chuckled and wrapped things up by saying, “On which enchanting note, Jake, I think it’s way past your bedtime!”

“I think you’ve got a point there, dad,” he agreed and carried our empty glasses out into the kitchen.

Before heading up to bed and leaving me to lock up, he said, “What we just did was pretty tight, wasn’t it?  I mean, you don’t have any regrets do you?”

“Maybe one,” I admitted, “and that’s that we didn’t do it earlier.”

He grinned and shrugged.  “I reckon we chose the right time, dad… we had to both be ready for it.”

“You’re probably right,” I agreed.

“It was good though, wasn’t it?” he asked with a cheeky smirk.  “We’ve got to do it again sometime!”

“We will,” I assured him.  “Definitely!”

“That is so sick!” he chuckled and headed off upstairs.

Before he’d turned the corner of the landing I thought I’d better clarify: “When you say that’s ‘sick’, Jake, you do mean that in a good way, don’t you?”

He sneered at how I was so ancient in my understanding of language.  If it isn’t in Sanskrit or Egyptian hieroglyphics I’m pretty much lost, you see.

“I just mean it’s so… you know… kicking… immense…?”

“Oh I get it,” I grinned.  “You mean it’s… how do you hipsters say it… maybe ‘chill-brill’… is that how they’re saying it in the ‘hood?”

I grinned up at him hopefully but he threw me a disparaging look.  “Don’t even try to do that, dad,” he scolded, before disappearing off to bed.

 

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