Everything Changes at Twenty-One
by Robert Furlong


Part 1

If I hadn’t watched my son getting ready to go out for the night on his twenty-first birthday, I don’t think I’d have screwed things up so badly later on when he returned home in the small hours so drunk that he could hardly walk.

As soon as I saw him fall head-first out of the taxi and then lurch unsteadily into my neighbour’s hedge, I surprised myself by feeling a rush of opportunistic excitement.  Even while I was picking him up and helping him into our house, I’d already decided I’d undress him fully before putting him to bed.  After all, in his barely-conscious state I could sneak a more leisurely look at the intriguingly swollen arsehole he’d flashed me just hours earlier.

From the glance I’d had of it, nestling snugly between his squat buttocks while he’d been pulling on a pair of bright orange boxers, it had startled me by how raised and puffy its once-insubstantial sphincter had grown. It’s oval shape and reddened flange had instantly brought to mind his mother’s pussy, and while he’d been out and I’d been downing three or four glasses of wine, I’d repeatedly found myself musing on how curiously enticing my son’s ripened anus had become.

He hooks up with guys at uni: he makes no secret of that fact.  He has a girlfriend who he professes to be in love with, but at the same time enjoys bending over for other young men who aren’t too fussy about whose hole they’re sliding their cocks into.  He refers to himself as ‘outwardly straight but discreetly bisexual’ and now it would appear that his enjoyment of entertaining horny boys in his bedroom has stretched and bloated his backdoor to produce in it a fullsome, almost womanly, shape.

I managed to get my drunken son upstairs on only the third attempt and, having made a stop-off in the bathroom to make sure he didn’t want to piss or throw up, we floundered into his bedroom and I laid him down on his bed.

“The fuckin’ ceiling won’t stop,” he chuckled and I told him to close his eyes while I fetched him a bowl to put next to his bed.

What the hell had he been drinking, I wondered.  His mates had no doubt been lining up shots for him down and quite probably lacing his pints too.

Once the bowl had been positioned within reaching distance, I undid his bootlaces and pulled off his sweaty sour-smelling socks.  He muttered something incoherent as I hitched his t-shirt up over his head but by the time I’d undone his belt and fly and was pulling his skin-tight jeans off, he was snoring softly and his muscles were completely limp.

That gave me the confidence to gently roll him onto his stomach so I could properly inspect the muscular bum that had been fascinating me all evening.

Now that I had the time to really study it, I found that I liked it a lot. It was round and ample – not unlike a nice pair of breasts – and his two buttocks looked pert and solid filling the stretched seat of the orange boxers I’d seen him pull on just a few hours earlier.

I stroked his left buttock gently and found that it felt just as firm and sturdy as it looked.  I swept my fingers all the way down it, from the small of his back to the top of his thigh and enjoyed its graceful curves and the way its gentle camber drew the fingers inwards towards the hot trench between his cheeks.

I teased his shorts out from his crack and pulled them gently apart so I could see where they’d been wedged up inside.  A small patch of the material must have been pressed against my son’s gaping hole because right there, in the middle and low down near the hemline of the gusset, the fabric was stained with a coffee-coloured streak.

It was just a small brown smear but I knew I should have been disgusted by it.  My son’s anus had been cleaved wide by a succession of frantically pounded cocks and while he’d been out for the evening, laughing at the bar and joking around with his mates, his big puckered bumhole had been dribbling its sticky goo onto the back of his orange underpants.

But I wasn’t disgusted: I was utterly enthralled.

I stared at it, mesmerized by the sight of the male equivalent of vaginal discharge.  The boy version was so much darker and enticingly chocolately and all at once I had the urge to lean down and sniff it.

At first I managed to restrain myself.  This was Jake’s butt and I knew full well what a young lad’s dank hairy arsehole was likely to smell like.

And yet… maybe this one didn’t smell like that at all.  When I’d seen it earlier it had looked so much like a pussy that it seemed possible – unlikely but not entirely absurd – that it had taken on a feminine odour too.  And then I wondered if perhaps he might perfume it to make it more appealling to his bisexual buddies, or whether he uses a gel or lotion that removes the stark evidence of its more bodily function.

The nagging urge to find out grew within me until it was irresistible.  I said his name to check that he was still flaked out and then, when he didn’t so much as murmer in response, lowered my face to the back of his shorts and pressed my nose up against the dirty streak that had oozed from his loosened fuck-hole.

My son’s anus might have been vaginal in its appearance but it certainly wasn’t in its smell!  There was nothing feminine about the stink he’d left on the back of his boxers.  It was uncompromisingly harsh and masculine: wincingly fierce and brazenly feacal.

And yet I found to my surprise that I rather liked it.

Girls’ pink openings have their own subtle sexy fragrances, and boys’ brown openings – while producing a cruder stench that was in no way subtle – could be just as sexy in their own far more assertive way.

I inhaled it more deeply, pushing my nose betwen my son’s two prominently buxom cheeks, and felt my own cock stirring at the sheer pungence of this most private odour.  I craned further down right into his crack and inhaled eagerly right where his swollen bumhole was.  The air inside here was richly infused with the delicious feculence of his arsehole: I snorted hungrily at the hot, moist vapour as I revelled in its eye-watering and yet peculiarly compelling stink.

Then I pulled out and gasped for breath as I considered what I wanted to do next.

I decided I’d follow plan A and strip him naked before throwing the spare duvet over him and going to bed myself.  I’d take a good look at his bulging pucker to see if it really did look as round and ripe as the part of his mum I’d used to make him, and then I’d leave him to sleep, patting his shoulder affectionately as if to persuade myself that this had merely been a bit of father-son horseplay.

As emboldened as I was from the wine I’d downed (let’s face it, there’s no way I would be doing this if I wasn’t half-drunk), I thought it wise to check that my son really was unconscious before I went the whole way and stripped him stark naked.  After a few pokes to satisfy myself that he was now deeply asleep, I grabbed both sides of the waistband and gently slid his cotton boxers down his strong, hairy legs.

If he asked next morning why I’d taken off his shorts, I’d say it was so he could easily take a pee into the bowl if he was still too drunk to get up in the night.

Once I’d managed to hitch his underwear over his two enormous feet, I leaned back to admire his bare backside in all its smooth, voluptuous magnificence.

As men’s bums go, I’ve got to say that Jake has one of the most aesthetically-pleasing examples that I’ve ever seen.  It looks simply exquisite when he flaunts it in his tight-fitting underwear and now that it was right front of me exposed in the flesh, I had to admit it was even better.  Its two flawless cheeks were round and full, but the squat shape and brawny athleticism of its build made the overall effect unmistakably masculine.

After again checking that his eyes were closed, I carefully parted his cheeks with a finger and thumb and leaned in to peer at his over-sized opening.

My God, it really did look like a pussy!  It was so swollen and succulent… so much like his mother’s!

I squeezed my thickening shaft through my trousers as I remembered pulling down his mum’s panties for the first time.  How deliciously fragile her ruffled lips had felt when I’d licked up between her legs.  And how much her taste inside had dumbfounded me, making me pant with an excitement that I hadn’t known was possible.

My cock was now pressing hard and insistent against my trouser pocket.  I rubbed it gently through the material, my left hand sliding back and forth along its rod-like length, as I saw my ex-wife’s curves and folds mirrored so seductively in my son’s well-fucked arsehole.

Why was I finding this so utterly fascinating?  Why was it making my mouth water and my cock leak its juice into my briefs?

It had been years since I’d fantasized about the woman who had walked out on us.  Over a decade since I’d made the decision to stop thinking about her sexually and instead to focus on the life I was putting back together with my son.

Jake chose that moment to rouse himself from his slumber and laughed drunkenly, “Aw yeah… is my old man checking out my boy cunt?”

“Jake, you’re awake!” I sputtered.  “You were… er… too drunk to undress yourself.”

Jake guffawed at my pathetic attempt to explain and then leered back at me, my right hand still parting his cheeks and my face poised just inches above his graphically distended anus.

“Havin’ a sly peep at my cum-dump?” he slurred.  “Like the look of it, do you?”

I pushed his buttocks back together to hide the opening I was finding so inexplicably arousing, and said, “I thought your friends had played a joke on you… I thought you had something pushed up there…”

“‘Course you did,” he laughed.  “So how’d’ya explain the massive donger tentin’ your trousers?!”

“It’s my wallet!” I snapped, ruffling the material of my crotch to conceal my erection among the folds.

Jake laughed again before treating me to a combined burp and hiccup.  I had a sudden fear that he was going to throw up all over his bedding.

Instead he reached back with both hands to grab at his arse cheeks and prize them apart.  He pushed his hips up a bit so he could present for me fully his alluring sphincter bulging so plump and full.

“Have a good look at it, dad,” he chuckled.  “It’s taken a shitload of cocks to get it lookin’ this vagged-up!”

“It does look somewhat vaginal,” I admitted.

“Doesn’t just look like one,” he slurred.  “Some guys say it feels like one too…”

“Really?” I asked.  For some reason, the idea made my throbbing bell-end strain even more painfully against the material of my undies.

“And they say it tastes as sexy as fuck… not like a girl’s cunt… but even hotter… like a boy’s!”

I wanted to masturbate, urgently.  My son was flirting with me but instead of being disgusted, I was desperate to jerk my cock off directing the big mushroom head of it towards the bullseye of his butt.

“Boys’ cunts taste dirty… dead rough but really fuckin’ horny…”

He reached towards his arsehole and teased an outstretched finger around its bulging circumference.

“Jake… don’t…” I managed to mutter, but my eyes were locked on the swirling motion between his cheeks.

“Go on… have a lick, dad,” Jake invited me, sliding his finger into his hole and then withdrawing it as moist as if he’d just pulled it from his mouth.  “It’s nice and wet inside… all warm and sticky…”

“Please…” I gasped.  My cock was threatening to tear itself through the front of my trousers!

“Just lean in and have a little taste of my tush… I won’t even remember it in the morning!”

“I can’t…” I implored him, struggling to push myself away from him and telling myself I had to leave.

“Just a tiny lick around my snatch,” he insisted, now sliding his slimy finger gently in and out.  “Just to see how much it tastes like mum’s.”

That stopped me in my tracks.  My son has always had a knack of reading my mind at the most inopportune of moments and even while pissed out of his head his psychic abilities could still surprise me.

If I hadn’t have seen him naked earlier, freshly showered and preening himself in front of the bathroom mirror, I think I’d have managed to tell him off for coming on so crudely to his own father and pushed my way out of his bedroom to let him sleep off his over-indulgence.

But I had seen him in his all his spectacular glory, looking wet and muscular and bending low to reveal my former wife’s very own opening puckering so invitingly between his cheeks.

So I heard myself mutter, “Just a little taste… see if it really is like your mum’s…”

He pushed him himself up on all-fours and prized his cheeks apart to offer his huge protruding arsehole directly to my face.  I stared at the puckered ring that was darkening in his mounting excitement and watched it grow taut and shiny as it inflated like a balloon.  And I peered into the cavernous opening, splayed and yawning as if to lure me in, finding it on one level appalling and on another frighteningly thrilling.

“That’s it,” he chuckled, “just lean in for one last lick of mum’s lovely ripe cherry…”


I’d gone upstairs to see if Jake fancied a birthday drink with his old dad while he was getting ready to go out with his mates for the evening.  The bathroom door had been wide open and Jake had been inside, standing casually naked while fiddling with his hair in the bathroom mirror.

His newly-toned physique had caught me be surprise and I’d stared speechlessly at him, unable to stop myself admiring how buff and muscular his body had become since he’d started a daily work-out regime in the university gym.

“You reckon I should shave my junk?” he asked, still staring in the mirror but turning towards me to show off his long thick cock and heavy bollocks sporting a month-old fuzz of pubic hair.

“I dunno, Jake,” I muttered.  Wow, the lad was growing really big down there!  “I’m a bit old-fashioned, I guess.  I like a bit of undergrowth… not a sprawling forest or anything… but I always find the smell of pubic hair very arousing!”

“Yeah, I guess,” he replied, pushing his hips outwards to inspect his his huge floppy phallus and two long-hanging nuts through the mirror while he decided whether to apply the razor to them.  “I like a bit fluff myself too… but maybe my boys are getting a bit too furry.”

“Does this mean you’re expecting to score tonight?”

“You never know,” my son grinned back.  “This dude called Michael Arquet who I knew from school is gonna be there, and I always thought he might swing both ways.”

“Well, I think you look fine as you are, Jake,” I smiled.  “Stunning, actually.”

Jake beamed at the compliment and then flexed his muscles to pose like a male model in front of the mirror.

He turned this way and that, checking out his sculpted pecs and abs and admiring his own bulging biceps, and I laughed, “Your penis has grown enormous… what on earth have you been doing to it?”

He swivelled around to inspect himself side-on, clearly liking the profile he made with his trunk-like cock drooping halfway to his knees and his firm bubble-butt looking tight and round.

“Yeah, it’s really massive, isn’t it?” he laughed back.  “I reckon it’s the way dudes suck it… a guy’s throat can give a really high-pressure blowjob!”

“Do you like your size?” I asked him.  At his age I’d been very self-conscious about my own less well-endowed but still very large cock and bollocks.

“Like it?” he chortled.  “Are you kidding?  I fucking love it!”

He turned to admire himself from the front again, putting his hands on his hips and pushing his crotch forwards to show off the long, thick tube that was curving forwards from his well-stocked scrotum.

“Aw yeah… look at it!” he grinned at himself through the mirror, clearly revelling in checking himself out.  “I love flashing my giant schlong in the gym showers to other buffed-up boys!”

I smiled.  “Doesn’t it put them off, though?  Or at least the ones at the straighter end of the bisexual spectrum?”

“Of course it doesn’t!” he laughed even louder.  “Guys shag me as a dude, dad!  They like that their fuck-buddy’s as brawny as they are and hung like a horse!”

“Well, in that case, I think the short pubic growth you have around it emphasizes its masculine qualities and frames the whole generous assemblage very nicely!”

“I’ll leave it as it is, then,” he chuckled.  “You never know, Michael Arquet might be like you and enjoy having a bit of bush to sniff through!”

He returned to fixing the hair on his head and trying to work his fringe into a quiff.  I was about to suggest I bring up a beer for him along with a glass of wine of my own, when he called over, “Chuck me my wax, would you, dad?”

“Your wax?”  I had a mental image of 1920s men waxing their moustaches which I knew was ridiculous.

“My hair wax,” he clarified.  “This gel’s too heavy…”

“Okay… where will I find it?”

“I dunno… maybe on my drawers… or next to my phone…”

“And how will I know where your phone is?”

Jake had sputtered in exasperation at that.  “Oh come on, dad… you know what my phone looks like.  I’m meeting the guys at seven… I can’t be late for my own party, can I…?”

That’s when he’d bent over to start pulling on the tight little orange boxer-briefs he’d brought into the bathroom with him.  And that’s when I’d seen the spectacular arsehole he’d managed to grow during the past couple of years.  My eyes had felt like they’d been out on stalks, staring so fixedly at the sumptuous ring of flesh surrounding the dark deep hole of my son’s most private entrance.

If it hadn’t been for his enormous bollocks and long fat cock swinging between his legs, his bumhole had looked for all intents and purposes like a succulent pussy, and a well-used one at that.

I’d started growing a hard-on – I’d felt it expanding in my own less-fashionable underwear – and had to put a hand into my pocket to stop it from tenting my trousers outward.

Jake had seemed oblivious to my difficulties.  As he’d pulled his underpants on he’d laughed, “What’s up… you need me to draw you a map of my bedroom or something?”

And I’d stammered something about needing to know the brand of the hair wax, while continuing to stare at his enticing arsehole looking so full and distended between his two squat solid cheeks.

It had looked like his mother’s pussy, that’s the thought I’d had from the outset.  Like the hole that had helped to create him; the hole that his tiny body had been expelled through twenty-one years ago this very evening.

Jake had laughed again.  “I dunno, dad… VO5 or L’Oriel or something… it’s blue and it’s the size of a can of tuna… seriously, you’ll see it as soon as you go into my bedroom…”

I kept staring at that wonderful arsehole of his as he yanked his shorts up his thighs.  I was fortunate that he always bought underwear a size or two too small: it kept him struggling to get his boxers up and kept my eyes glued to the fattened mound of his awe-inspiring cunt.

It really did look like the warm wet entrance I used to fuck his mother through.  He was densely hairy above and below the inflated gash of his opening – just like his mother’s – and the distended lips on either side of his anus were reddened and angry – recalling to me the way his mum’s would look after I’d finished discharging my seed into her.

“And it’s next to your phone?” I muttered, mesmerized by how voluptuous and succulent my son’s man-vag looked.

“Yeah… come on, dad… the taxi’ll be outside any minute…”

I’d pulled myself away from my son’s enticing ex-wife vagina and hurried into his bedroom to find his hair wax.

How come Jake now had his mother’s minge tucked away between his buttocks? How many of his mates’ big cocks had it taken to inflate his arsehole to the size of a doughnut?

By the time I got back to the bathroom, Jake had managed to pull his boxers all the way up and was now squeezing a spot in the mirror.

“That’s it… thanks dad,” he grunted, as I put the only blue tub I’d managed to find down on the shelf.

“I hope I do get a fuck tonight,” he went on, now immersed in dabbing some lotion onto the pit in his skin that he’d just emptied.  “If a guy can’t get a fuck on his twenty-first birthday, when the hell can he?”


I started licking at my son’s anus, hardly believing what I was doing but finding the sensation for some reason utterly electrifying.  Once my tongue had swept around the swollen polish of his fleshy ring and I’d lapped at the intoxicating pungence of his most taboo of openings, I found that I was unable to restrain myself and pushed in for more.

“Aw yeah… that’s it…” my son sighed as he felt his father’s hot slimy tongue entering his darkest crevice.  “Lick inside the hole…” he urged me, bending further forwards and parting his knees on the bed to fully splay open the hairy crack of his backside.

I slid my tongue further into him and tried to stimulate him the way I’d excite his mother by flicking the tip rapidly back and forth against the smooth sides of his tunnel.

That made him gasp with delight in a near action-replay of how it had been twenty or so years ago.

“Lap it in and out!” he called out, proving far more vocal than she had ever been.  “Tongue-fuck my gash… go on!  Make it froth!”

His mother had never said anything like that: if she had I’d have probably gone down on her a lot more!

I swept my tongue around the wide circumference of his passage, making rough jabs against the bloated rim of his entrance like I would if this were a woman’s labia rather than the over-stretched arsehole of a suprisingly promiscuous young man.  It didn’t taste like a woman: instead, his gaping opening filled my mouth with the strong, biting flavour which betrayed without doubt exactly what it was.  Nevertheless, I feasted hungrily on it, suddenly feeling like I was again making love to his mother, lapping eagerly at the harsh fetid stink like it was the sweet juice seeping from her silky chute.

I reached underneath him as I licked him out, as if expecting to find… what…?  A clitoris, perhaps?  The wiry forest of a woman’s pubic bush?

Instead I groped clumsily at my son’s two bulky bollocks and then reached forwards to find that his huge cock was now engorged and throbbing thick and full underneath his stomach.

“Wank my big dick off!” he commanded as I fumbled, unthinking, with the beer-can girth of his erection.  “Wank it hard and really fast while you eat my big sloppy minge!”

His mother had never told me to do anything like that!  But then all she had was a pearly clitoris between her legs; not my son’s massive tree-trunk cock that was demanding his own dad’s hand vigorously gratify.

I wrapped my hand as tightly as I could around his implausibly fattened shaft and started sliding his foreskin back and forth.

To my surprise he thanked me by farting full on in my face.

He laughed at his own indiscretion and called out, “Aw yeah!  Fuckin’ sniff it!  Then lick where it came from!”

I pulled back from him, disgusted by the stench of his fart but with my cock now chaffed red raw by its overwrought confinement, and panted, “I don’t want to sniff it or lick it… I want to do you properly, Jake… I want to fuck you up it!”

He laughed even louder.  “Come on then, just go for it!  Pull your big cock out and fuck me up the arse while you wank me off!”

“I wanna do it from the front,” I gasped.  “And it’s not your arse, okay? It’s your mother’s tight little pussy…”

“Whatever does it for you, Robert!” he chortled, using the name his mother used to call me.

He rolled over and hooked his arms over both of his knees, pulling them back to fully expose the yawning socket between his cheeks.  “Not so tight or little,” he laughed, “but I reckon you’re packin’ enough meat to fill it!”

I hastily undid my trousers and yanked my briefs down so that I could scramble onto the bed in front of him and line my pounding cock up with his big brown cunt.

“Come on, Robert… fuck me like you used to!” he grinned and for a moment his angular features softened so he really did look like Linda.  “Fuck me hard and fill me up with all that thick creamy man-spunk of yours!”

His mother would never have dreamed of saying anything like that, but I shuffled up between his gaping legs and started sliding my cock into his warm, sticky tunnel.  I knew that it was my spit and his shit smoothing the entry of my plum-sized bell-end, but I told myself it was really the slick juices of a pussy and that the eager body underneath me was the woman I’d once loved.

“Ah yeah… fill me up!” he gasped, as the broad girth of my phallus was steadily consumed by the hungry pout of his entrance.  “You’ve got a massive cock, Robert… really thick and veiny… and… oh Jesus Christ! It feels fuckin’ awesome!”

I tore my shirt off and quickly yanked my vest over my head and then, once my full length was buried all the way inside him, I crouched over him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders.  I positioned his enormous cock tight between our bellies and chests, so that once I was thrusting in and out of him the friction of our bodies would jerk his foreskin back and forth.  I’d certainly never had to think of anything like that when I’d been squatting over his mother!

My face was right above his and I was panting wine-breath into his mouth. I said, “If you cum first, let me finish, okay?”

He grinned.  “I’m pretty good at holding out…”

I held him more tightly, sliding my cock out from the grip of his innards and then slowly back in.

He laughed, “Just remember I’ve got my own pair of knackers down there… take care not to crush them!”

Something else I hadn’t had to think about with his mum!

I pulled back a bit to give his bollocks a bit of space and then started steadily fucking him, driving my cock in and out with increasing force and pace.

“Aw yeah!” he smirked as I grunted hot breath against his face.  “That feels so big up there… so massive inside me!  Don’t afraid to be rough… I like a nice hard fuck!”

I chuckled back at him.  “I wish I could say you take after your mum… but you really, really don’t!”

He grabbed me around the back and ran his hands down my spine to cup both cheeks of my bum.

“Do you want me to finger your arse?” he asked.  “If you push your pants down a bit I can probably reach it…”

“No,” I told him, now fucking him with a strong, quickening pace.  “Your mum wouldn’t do that… in any case, I’m getting quite close…”

I became aware of a gathering smell: the barnyard stench of animals mating.

He saw me sniffing curiously and grinned at the thickening odour of his shit coating the shaft of my cock.  He said, “I know it stinks like I’ve just taken a dump… but imagine it smells dead nice, just like mum’s pussy!”

“I like the smell,” I told him breathlessly, now pounding agressively between his legs.  “Don’t be ashamed of it… it’s the smell of your own lovely hole!”

“You like my stinky shitty boy-cunt?” he grinned as I realised I was drooling onto his nose and mouth.

“It’s deep like you’re mum’s,” I panted, now hammering in and out of it so roughly that now it was my turn to let out a fart.  “But so much smoother and wetter…”

“Nut off up inside it, then,” he commanded, his face now turning serious as he clung onto me more tightly so that our gyrating bodies would rub his cock up and down.  “Come on… fill it up… shoot your spunk right up it like the night you made me…”

I dug my fingers into his shoulders as I pressed my mouth against his and kissed him more passionately than I had ever kissed his mother.  He pushed his tongue up to meet my own and we tasted each other’s breath and spit as they wrestled together between our lips and teeth.

Just then I felt my balls unleash their load and Jake’s mouth broke into a momentary grin as we kept kissing and tongue-fighting.  He grabbed both cheeks of my bum and clung onto them tightly as he ground his fingers into my crack.  Then his grin abruptly faded and his own cock started shooting off between our chests.  Soon I was covered with his semen all the way up to my neck and as I fell on top of him, gasping, one of us farted again but I wasn’t sure which.


I slept only fitfully and kept waking up alternating between bouts of agonizing shame and sheer disbelief at what I’d done.  How would I apologise to Jake?  Would he want to move out for good?  Might I never see my own son again?

At about four in the morning I became convinced that our neighbour Dan had heard my incestuous exertions through the wall between our semi-detached houses.  I’d started having cold sweats about the police coming around to arrest me… my mugshot appearing on the front pages of the gutter press…

Such melodramatic fears were mercifully dispelled by first light.  Once I could hear Jake staggering into the bathroom, I was already showered and downstairs, feeling more ready to handle whatever fireworks were about to kick off.

I’d decided to refer the events of the previous evening as “the two of us allowing ourselves to get too intimate”.  That would share the ownership of what had happened between us both and sounded far less sordid than any other wording I could think of.

After all, what did one call what the two of us had done?  I’d fucked my son up his bum and had heavily climaxed deep up inside him.  Worse than that, at least in some ways, I’d been kissing him full on the lips while I was cumming.  And just to cap it off, Jake had cum too: right when I’d been squirting my seed up into his bowels and slobbering all over his mouth, I’d felt my son’s own semen shooting out of him to copiously soak our stomachs and chests.

So what did one call a dad-and-son moment like that?  An affectionate bout of paternal buggery… a spot of heart-warming fatherly butt-fucking?

After Jake had finished noisily using the toilet, he lumbered downstairs to make himself a coffee.  He’d pulled his dirty orange boxers back on but had managed to find himself a fresh t-shirt.

When he saw me he surprised me by laughing and saying, “Bloody hell, dad, I just shat out a bucket-full of spunk!  Must’ve been a good night…”

He went to grab himself a mug and seemed completely oblivious to whose cock had deposited such an abundant load inside him.

I muttered, “You don’t remember…?”

“Not a thing,” he shrugged, switching on the kettle.  “Last thing that’s clear is when we were in the pub and Michael Arquet was checking me out… I wonder if me and him went into the loos and had a bit of fun in a cubicle…”

I peered at my son and realised that he looked extremely worse for wear.  I asked him, “Are you sure it was just alcohol that you were downing…?”

He smiled and shrugged.  “Might’ve had a little something else to help me get in the mood… a couple of little something elses…”

I felt a combination of concern that Jake was sharing dodgy tablets with his mates and relief that whatever had been in them had spared me the discomfort of a very unpleasant conversation.

“Stank dead rough though,” he chuckled, “as bad as your spunk reeks…”

That’s one of the perils of two men living in such close proximity: an exhaustive knowledge of each other’s habits and smells.

As he spooned coffee into his mug, I scanned his face for any sign that he knew what had happened and was baiting me for a reaction.  In spite of how tired and hungover he looked, his expression was completely innocent, if that’s possible given the crudeness of what he’d just said.

“Must’ve been a good fuck,” he grinned across at me bleary-eyed.  “Pity I can’t remember it!”

“Do you remember getting home?” I asked him.  “Falling into next door’s hedge?”

“Not even how I got home,” he laughed.  “Did you have to undress me, then?”

“I did,” I admitted.  “I was afraid you’d need the loo in the night…”

“Oh right,” he chuckled.  “You must’ve felt like I was a kid again!”

We grinned at each other and then Jake’s expression became suddenly thoughtful and serious.  His forehead furrowed at the thought of his father pulling down his underpants and his eyes became wary – hostile even – as it dawned on him why the spunk he’d shat out might have smelled so much like mine.

I just smiled back at him, fighting to stay calm and casual, as I could see him mulling over the possibility that his dad had used his inebriation as an opportunity to strip and sodomise the birthday boy before leaving him to sleep it off.

I was about to say, “Look, Jake… it wasn’t like you were out of it… you were awake and egging me on…”

But then just as suddenly the dark clouds lifted from his face and his expression softened back to a friendly smile.  I let out the breath I realised I’d been holding, grateful that the idea of his dad sneaking a quickie up his drugged-up backside must be too ridiculous for him to consider further.

As he poured boiling water on his coffee, I thanked my lucky stars that I’d managed to come through this unscathed.

But then, before he headed back upstairs to take a shower, he said, “Next time you’re pissed-up on two bottles of wine, dad, I’m gonna undress you down to the buff…”

I could hear the edge in his voice but I pretended like we just having some playful banter.

“You do that,” I muttered, trying to smile back at him.

“Whatever you did to me last night… next time you’re shitfaced… I’m gonna do the same to you.”

“Okay…” I replied, struggling to maintain my neutral expression.

He nodded slightly as if something in my eyes, a nervous tick perhaps, had told him what he needed to know.

“Really rough and really hard,” he added, now glaring coldly at me.  “So you get to shit my spunk.”

I felt my face blush scarlet, no doubt confirming what he’d already figured out.

“Fair enough,” I muttered quietly.  “If that’s what it takes…”

He nodded solemnly and then went upstairs to take his shower.

I took a couple of bottles of chardonnay from the shelf and put them in the fridge to chill.  It seemed that daddy was going to have to get wasted tonight so that Jake could get the birthday party he felt he was owed.


Part 2

While the sex I’d had with my son had been tender and passionate, the turn he’d insisted he had on me had been anything but.

We’d had a few drinks together and endured a very awkward conversation in which my claims that Jake had been complicit in our misdemeanours of the previous evening – that he had in fact drunkenly seduced me – had fallen on resolutely deaf ears.

“I told you this morning, dad,” my son had snorted sullenly.  “What you did to me, I wanna do to you.”

“And then you’ll feel we’re even?” I asked him, topping up my wine from the bottle to help benumb the very difficult encounter that was awaiting us both.

He’d nodded glumly, taking a swig from his own beer.

“Obviously, I let things go way too far last night,” I admitted to him slouching on the armchair.  “But what you’re about to do is hardly comparable.”

“How d’you mean?”

“What happened last night was very much in the heat of the moment.  This seems… well… horribly premeditated.”

“It’s not ideal,” he shrugged.  “But then it wasn’t ideal of you to fuck your own son up the butt.”

“I’ve told you repeatedly, Jake… you were urging me on… you even splayed your cheeks and called your anus your ‘cunt’.”

“I was drunk,” he shrugged.  “I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Well, I’m drunk now,” I said, standing up and picking up my wine glass. “Do you want to get this over with?”

“It’s as good a time as any,” Jake nodded, his expression nonchalant as if to make clear that this was a chore rather than a pleasure.

He followed me upstairs and we went into my bedroom.

Jake started unbuttoning his shirt so I asked, as I sat down to take off my shoes, “Do you want us to both be naked for the… er… act?”

“Yeah,” he agreed.  “I want you on your bed facing forwards so I can kneel behind you and grab onto you by the hips.  Then, basically, I’m gonna bum you really hard until I cum a massive wad up your arse.”

“Don’t you want me from the front… that’s how I did it to you?”

He shook his head resolutely.  “I don’t want it to be nice.”

“Well, I’d better use the bathroom before we start.  You’re a very well-endowed young man and I should make sure I’m ready to receive you…”

“No,” he said flatly.

I peered across at him, surprised by his reaction.  He glared dourly at me and muttered, “Like I said… I don’t want it to be nice.”

We continued undressing in silence until we were both fully naked.  Then we stood in front of each other, our two large father-and-son cocks hanging long and floppy over the top of our well-stocked nuts.

Jake was athletic and young; I was more chubby and my midriff was becoming decidedly middle-aged.  His chest was hairless and his pecs prominently defined; mine was more furry and, while still quite bulked, I lacked the gym-sculpted musculature of my son’s impressive torso.

There was little more than twenty years between us but I realised I was starting to let myself go.

“You really want to do this to me, Jake?” I asked him.

“No I don’t, but I think I need to… then we can move on.”

I got on my bed and bent forwards to present my two large round buttocks to Jake as he climbed on the bed behind me.  I opened my legs wide so that my two big bollocks swung low and pushed my backside towards him to make my hairy crack splay open.

He’d seen my bum-rug before but I still cringed with self-consciousness.

I muttered, “I’m sure you’ve had sex with much more attractive bottoms than mine.”

He shuffled up behind me, wanking his huge cock to get it hard, and said, “Yeah, but I’ve shagged worse ones too.  For an older guy, your arse is actually okay.”

I smiled, finding it unlikely that this was flattery given that he seemed determined that his payback should be as humiliating for me as possible.

He kept jerking his dick and it slowly stiffened up in his hand, and he asked, “Where’s your gash?  Is it low down like mine?”

I reached back and pointed to where my anus was lurking among the thicket.

“It’s here,” I said.  “Enjoy the fuck.”

Once his big cock was hard and curving upwards, he hocked a thick gob of phlegm up from his throat and spat it down onto it.  He smeared his mucus around his plum-sized helmet and worked it down the thick girth of his veiny shaft.

Then grabbed me by the hips and started trying to push the enormous thing into my bum.

“An inch or so lower, Jake,” I advised him, and then, “You might need to angle it upwards a bit…”

He slippery bell-end popped through the puckered ring of my hole, making me gasp and call out, “I might need some lube…”

He held my hips tighter and strained to work more of his enormous phallus into me, grunting, “You said you needed to take a dump… the shit you’ve got up your arse will be lube enough…”

Bloody hell, I thought.  The lad certainly knows how to make a guy feel like dirt.

He reached up to my shoulders and clung onto them as he heaved inch after inch of his erection inside me.  It pushed deep up into my hot rectum and then forced its way through the clammy resistance of my turd.  He kept going, making me gasp as my sludge was squeezed around the blunt battering head of his cock, and then I let out a loud fart to which he responded, “Aah yeah!”

Once most of his manhood had been forced inside me, he returned his hands to my hips to hold me firmly in place for the butt-fuck, and said, “Right, are you ready for this?  This is gonna be very hard and very rough…”

I peered back at him over my shoulder and asked, “Do you really feel you need to do this, Jake?  Brutally sodomise your own father…?”

“You made me shit your spunk, now you’re gonna shit mine…”

“I’m not sure if things can be the same between us after this.”

That made him laugh bitterly.  “Well, you should’ve thought of that before you screwed me in my sleep!”

“You weren’t asleep, Jake… I keep telling you!  You were egging me on…”

I suddenly remembered a specific moment.  “You offered to reach around and finger my backside while I was… well… doing my thing.”

He stared at me intently and I could tell that I’d stirred something in him.  Perhaps he often suggested fingering the guys who fucked him, or perhaps what I’d said had stirred the glimmer of a memory through the drugged-up fuzz of the previous night.

“You’ve got to believe me, Jake… you weren’t acting stoned at all,” I continued, still with his huge hard-on joining our two dissimilar bodies. “If I’d known you’d taken some stupid pills, I wouldn’t have done what I did.”

“But you still did it,” he muttered, his face becoming hostile again.  “So now I’m gonna do it to you.”

He grabbed me hard by the hips and started fucking me aggressively.  His crotch slapped hard against my buttocks and the whole bed started shaking to his driving rhythm.  My headboard whacked against the wall in time with his strong, rapid thrusts, and I’d peered up at him over my shoulder to see his face scrunched into a snarl.

This was rough, noisy bumming: crude and urgent.  About as erotic as being taken up the arse by an over-sexed squaddie.

My bedroom began to stink fiercely of the thick crud the prominent ridge of his bell-end was gouging from my bunged-up arsehole.  I could feel it smearing around my cheeks and forming a grotesque ring of sludge where the base of his shaft was hammering in and out.

“This is disgusting, Jake,” I said, looking forwards at my shuddering headboard.  “Whatever debt you feel I owe you, it doesn’t have to be like this.”

Jake stopped slamming his hips against my buttocks and seemed to falter in his determination to make me suffer for my sins.

“I’ll just remind you,” I said quietly, hoping to exploit his momentary lapse in anger, “that you climaxed very powerfully when I did what I did to you.”

He knew that was true: he’d admitted earlier that when he’d awoken that morning his chest had still been covered with his own dried-on discharge.

He leaned down over my back and reached under me to check on the state of my cock.  He found it large but limp and dangling downward over my scrotum and I muttered, “I’m really not enjoying this… I want to make things up with you… but this isn’t the right way…”

“I was amped up on booze and beans, dad,” my son blurted out, the wavering of his voice betraying how deeply upset I’d made him.  “How could you just pull my pants down and shag me up the arse?”

“It wasn’t like that,” I said, trying my best to sound soothing.  In spite of the position we were in with Jake’s max-sized cock lodged belligerently up my arse, I still hoped that we could salvage something from this and recover our relationship as father and son.

I went on, “Look… you were flashing your bumhole at me… you kept saying it was like your mum’s pussy and… well… it’s a bit puffy and swollen so it did kind of look like that…”

“Really?” he asked.  “I must have been off my fuckin’ head…”

“That’s why I ended up on top of you,” I explained.  “You kept telling to have one last play with your mother’s minge… and I think in my own drunken state I ended up thinking of it as such.”

“Guys do say my butt looks a bit like a vag…”

“I hadn’t realised how much I must miss your mum… seeing her opening revealed in the roundness of yours… well, I suppose I just got carried away…”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“I dunno… it sounded like an excuse… and I wanted you to feel that you’d got even with me.”

He pulled out of me causing me to release a loud spattering fart and the thick brown mass coating his cock made the room reek anew.

“You still owe me, dad,” he said.  “But… yeah… this isn’t the right way.”

I got off the bed and wiped my crud from around my arse.  “I’m happy to put right what happened last night, but I assure you that we both enjoyed the sex we had in your bedroom so I think it’s only fair that we both enjoy whatever it is you decide you’re owed.”

“It’s gotta be sexual,” Jake asserted, as he grabbed some tissue from me to clean my shit from his cock.  “But… Jesus!  I honestly didn’t know how slutty I must get when I’m stoned!”

I smiled at him.  “You were being extremely seductive.  If I’d been sober I’d have just left you to it… but… well… obviously I wasn’t.”

“Okay, we’ll have to figure out what we’re gonna do.  I agree we’ve both got to have hard-ons and both be enjoying it.”

“Feel free to tell me if this sounds ridiculous,” I said, “but if we’re going to be sexual together, perhaps we could find something that we both enjoy and could do more regularly.”

“More regularly?” he asked, needing more tissue to wipe the build-up of shit from around his pubes.

“Yes, use what happened to forge something positive instead of you just feeling as if you’ve got even.”

“Yeah… sounds cool,” Jake nodded.  “You’d like to do that, then, would you?  For us both to help each other out when we’re feeling horny…?”

I smiled.  “I enjoyed our sex immensely last night and you did too, even though you can’t remember it.  We’re both open-minded men who happen to have high sex drives… perhaps we could come to an occasional arrangement to be physical together.”

Jake nodded, “Yeah, that makes sense, I guess…”

I grabbed the grimly stained tissue from him and threw the whole wodge of stinking paper into the bin.

He smiled awkwardly and added, “Look… what I just did was really awful and I wanna say sorry again that I treated you like that… I just had this image of me passed out and you… well…”

“As if I would do that to you, Jake.  But I understand your anger and I think we need to draw a line under what has happened.”

He smiled as we sat back down on my bed.  “Except that, like you say, it might lead to something pretty awesome developing between us… a lot better than me just doing you up the ass in payback.”

I smiled back at him and asked him, “So what sort of things would you like us to do together?”

“What would you like?” he asked and I could see that he was suddenly a little self-conscious to be sitting bollock-naked with his old dad discussing how the two of us were going to start regularly having sex.

I said, “Last night you enjoyed me licking your bum.  You asked me to masturbate you while I lapped my tongue in and out of your hole.”

“Really?” he laughed, his eyes instantly more enthusiastic.  “You actually rimmed me out?”

“Yes I did,” I nodded.  “That was actually how it started.  I was getting you into bed and you… well… offered me a taste.”

“And you enjoyed that?” he asked incredulously.  “You liked having a lick around Jakey’s butt?”

“It was richly-flavoured, I grant you, but… yes… it was surprisingly pleasant.”

He grinned.  “Well, I’d feel things were pretty evened-up if you’d let me face-sit you while I jerk myself off.”

“Do you think you could reach over for my cock and masturbate me too?”

“I reckon so,” he laughed.  “We’ve got a deal then, have we?”

“What about oral sex?” I asked.  “A young lad like you must enjoy having that enormous cock getting a good sucking?”

“Aw yeah… and some!” he chortled.  “You’d be up for that would you…? Maybe the two of us getting into a sixty-nine together…?”

I smiled.  “Yes, I think I’d enjoy that…”

“Would you be okay with us fingering each other’s dookies while we do it? I love having a finger up my arse while I’m getting sucked off…”

I laughed back.  “I’d like that hugely… it sounds like we’re going to have a lot of fun…”

“But what can I do for you, dad?  I don’t want this to be one-sided thing…”

“For a start, you can call me Robert in the bedroom.  You called me that last night and it felt… I don’t know… somehow more appropriate.”

“Okay, then, Robert,” he smiled.  “D’you want me to suck your cock… lick your butt?”

“That thing we did earlier… you behind and me in front… well, I think in a different context, I’d rather enjoy us trying that again.”

“You want us to fuck?” he grinned eagerly.  “Did you secretly enjoy your son and heir doing you up the bum?”

“I recognised a certain… er… erotic potential in it,” I smiled back, feeling rather naughty to admit it.  “But I’d like us do it reciprocally… make sure we enjoy it together…”

“I can be a very sensual lover, Robert,” he smiled, pouting his lips mock-seductively at me.

“And I don’t want any of that,” I told him flatly.  “This isn’t a romantic thing… it certainly wasn’t for me last night.  This is just the two of us having occasional sex as a mutually convenient outlet.  We lick… we suck… we even fuck… but we keep it purely for fun…. just a way of emptying our nuts.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” he agreed, getting up from the bed.  “Look, I’m gonna get a shower… my cock really stinks… and then maybe we can get started properly… see what feels right for us both.”

While he was showering I changed the bedding.  The shitty butt-fuck he’d punished me with had left an unpleasant speckling of brown stains in the middle of the duvet.

I fixed us both fresh drinks and then, when he was getting dried, I took a quick shower myself to clean up my arse.  If he did want to lick it – and after all, he’d mentioned it as possibility – I wanted it to be nice and clean for him because I was sure that I would hugely enjoy having my son do something so intensely intimate to me.

We started out by lying back against my pillows, side by side, briskly masturbating together to get our cocks thick and hard.

“This is nice, dad, isn’t it?” Jake asked, before correcting himself to call be my bedroom-name of Robert.

“It’s very nice, yes,” I agreed.  “If you’d prefer to keep it like this… just the two of us enjoying a wank together sometimes… I’d be more than happy for that…”

“Is that what you want?” he asked.

“No… but I suppose a father and his adult son masturbating together occasionally is within the realms of what one might consider a healthy relationship.”

“I reckon we can have a healthy relationship and do a lot more together than just jerking off…”

Our cocks steadily lengthened as we slid our hands up and down their stiffening shafts.  We peered across at each other, smiling, and I enjoyed watching Jake’s swelling bell-end darken in colour and grow shiny as his huge organ was steadily reinflated with his blood.

“In that case,” I said, as my own large penis slowly assumed its full size, “I think we need to be honest with each other.  For starters, you’ve probably already worked out that I do this in bed most evenings… enjoy a vigorous wank and the rush of a climax before I switch the lamp off and go to sleep.”

“Yeah,” my son laughed.  “I’m usually bashing away myself!”

“Well, in future, feel free to come in and join me.  If you’re feeling horny, tell me… and I’ll do the same to you.”

He kept laughing.  “What, so I’m like ‘Robert… I really need my cock sucking…’?”

“Absolutely,” I chuckled.  “And I might similarly say, ‘Jake… I need a bit of help tonight… would you mind fingering my bottom while I gratify myself?'”

“That sounds well cool!” Jake guffawed.  “We’ve both had sex on tap for years, and we didn’t even know it!”

“Sometimes we might just masturbate together… which will be nice in itself… at other times we might indulge in full intercourse… we’ll just see how things pan out…”

Jake said, “In that case, Robert, I’d like to sit on your face while I wank.  Apparently, you rimmed me last night and I don’t remember a fuck, so I reckon I’d like to find out properly what it feels like to have my old man eat my butt!”

I chuckled.  “I think I was rather good at it… your cock became extremely hard!”

He laughed back, releasing his erection and getting up.  “Well, this time there’s gonna be no mention of mum or her pussy.  I want to you enjoy my tush for what it is… a dude’s cute little pooper!”

I pushed myself and then laid down flat on the bed so that my son could squat his round ripe arsehole over my face before lowering himself down for me to stick my tongue up his bum.


And that’s how I formed a sexual relationship with my son.

It took a little time for us both to adjust to our new arrangement, although not perhaps as long as you might suppose.  Once we’d grown used to the fact we could be sexual together, even if only in the bedroom and strictly as Robert and Jake, we were soon able to resume our more typical father-son relationship when we were in the rest of the house.

That first night, we were probably at our most retrained with each other, which was somewhat ironic given that Jake had just literally fucked the shit out of my arse.  I’d licked the boy’s bum while he’d shown his enjoyment of the sensation by furiously wanking himself off, and then I’d sucked his big cock while roughly fingering his hole until he’d shouted, “Fucking yeah!” and had promptly cum down my throat.

Afterwards, he’d seemed a little awkward and had said a somewhat formal ‘thank you’ and I’d half-expected to extend his arm for a handshake before heading off to bed.

The next morning when I awoke him with a glass of orange juice, I thought I’d make sure that our fun of the previous evening wouldn’t end up being an unspoken-of one-off.  I told him I felt horny and he grinned and admitted that he did too, and then we masturbated together on his bed before Jake surprised me by leaning over and consuming my cock.  We’d aligned ourselves into a very agreeable sixty-nine which had steadily shifted until we’d both climaxed with our tongues lapping at each other’s arses.

A couple of nights later Jake had walked into my bedroom with his erection tenting his pyjama shorts and I’d put the book I was reading down and offered to fellate it for him.  He’d smirked sheepishly and then muttered, “Actually… if I do it properly this time… can I relieve it up your butt?”  And I’d chuckled as I got up to remove my own pyjamas, lubing myself up and then squatting forwards on the bed so that we could finish what we had started and enjoy it to the full this time.

The following evening I’d paid his bedroom a visit with my briefs similarly uplifted and had bent him over his desk chair with the back of his boxers pulled down so that could very obligingly extend me the same favour.

After that we’d established a routine of casual incestuous sex covering the full range of homosexual activities.  Sometimes we’d simply enjoy masturbating together, whether attending to ourselves or reaching across to pleasure each other.  More often my son would ask me to suck his cock – something I quickly became extremely adept at – and occasionally, very occasionally, I’d push his face down onto mine and hold his head steady while I gently fucked his mouth.  We’d spend Sunday mornings languidly fingering and rimming each other, either on his bed or mine, and every couple of weeks we’d have full noisy intercourse together, taking turns to boisterously do each other from behind.  We never did it face-to-face again and we certainly never kissed.  I don’t think Jake ever knew that I’d planted a French one on his lips that very first night and I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him now.


As the months went on, I initially worried that our frequent sex together would erode the special bond we’d developed over the years I’d raised him as a single father.

On the contrary, though, our relationship flourished.  We became far more relaxed around one another and I began to find my son less secretive and guarded.  We were soon doing more things together out of the house and would spend whole afternoons enjoying each other’s company, chatting and joking, before getting home for a brisk session on my bed or his before heading downstairs to see what we could rustle up for tea.

Better than that, though, I discovered a new-found pride in my own body.  I started playing squash two nights a week with a couple of mates and I even allowed Jake to persuade me to go along with him to his gym so I could really tone myself up.

In the kitchen, he’d laugh and say, “Looking good, dad!”  And then later on in the bedroom he’d say, “Getting sexy, Robert!”  And it would do wonders for my confidence to see him pull down his jeans and for a full-on boner to spring up.

Late one night I was merrily pounding against his bottom before we turned in for bed, when he said, “I was going to invite Will down this weekend. Would that be okay?”

“Why would it not be?” I asked without missing a beat as I squatted behind him and prepared to release my seed into his bowels.

“Me and him’ll fuck,” he replied succinctly, before elaborating, “Knowing Will, we’ll fuck a lot and you’ll probably hear it and you’ll definitely smell it.”

“So why would that be a problem?”

“Well, you know,” he smiled, looking up at me over his shoulder as I kept banging away at his arse.  “This.”

I stopped shagging him for a moment and said, “Jake, this is just the two of us helping each other out.  If you want someone to stay over – or if I do, for that matter – then this will have no bearing on it… at least I hope it won’t!”

“I didn’t want to… you know… upset you or anything.”

“Why would it?” I asked, feeling slightly incredulous.  “This is just a form of relief… it’s what we do when we’re horny but we haven’t got anyone else.”

“Like wanking, then?”

“I suppose.  Wanking with a range of very enjoyable upgrades!”

He muttered, “So when one of us has got someone else…?”

I laughed.  “I’m sure this will slowly peter out as one or both of us stops needing it.  Then we’ll go back to being a plain old dad and his son, though hopefully without shame or embarrassment about what we’re doing now.”

Jake nodded.  “No, I don’t think I’ll ever feel bad about this.  We both get boners and we have the good sense to help each other out with them… that’s all there is to it, really.”

I didn’t think I could put it any better myself so I resumed fucking him strenuously up the butt until I’d shot several thick ropes of semen up him. We’d switched places and he’d enjoyed a brief hump of mine before releasing an equally copious gusher, and then we’d said our goodnights and he’d headed off to bed.

Will’s visit was largely unremarkable.  He and my son did fuck every chance they got and Jake was proven right that I was able to hear their brawny tussles and smell from the living room their brazenly anal stink.

On the Sunday I offered to take the two of them on cycle ride around Foxton Locks as a way of getting them out of the house and out of each other’s arseholes.

It was about nine in the morning and I was taking a shower when Jake strolled into the bathroom looking as rough as he usually did when he had a bisexual buddy staying over with him from university.  He walked over to the toilet to take a pee and I smiled at how groggy he looked.  Once I’d have felt self-conscious to be standing naked in front of my son, but now I felt rather proud to show off my buffed-up chest and newly-firm biceps.

“Late night?” I asked, chuckling.

“Yeah,” he croaked.  “Sorry about the noise and the stink.  Will’s arse is savage.”

“I find it arousing,” I admitted.  “It has a distinctive pungence… decidedly bracing!”

“Trust you,” he laughed but his eyes looked weary.

He finished peeing, shook his cock and then pulled his t-shirt and boxers off.

“Budge up,” he grunted, getting into the shower with me.  I moved aside to give him space and he sighed contentedly as he washed the hot water over his face.

“You’ve never showered with me before,” I smiled.  I wasn’t especially bothered to share the cubicle with my son: I was actually a little touched that he was now so relaxed with me that he felt able to just strip off and barge in.

“Considering what else we get up to,” he chuckled, “this must rank as one of the least intimate!”

“I don’t mind,” I assured him.  “I think it’s rather fun!”

Just then Will barged in, muttering, “Sorry guys… I really need to pee!”

He rushed over to the toilet and already had his stubby little dick out and was peeing before noticing that the two of us were huddled together under the spray.

“Fuck!” he laughed.  “You guys into saving water or something?”

“I was enjoying a very pleasant solitary shower,” I said, emphasizing the word ‘solitary’, “when my son very rudely pushed in to spray some water on his face.”

Jake laughed.  “I just really needed to wake up.  Now I need a coffee… strong and black!”

Will didn’t take the hint to offer to make him one but instead just stood there staring at us, with a yellow arc of piss still streaming from his short thick knob.  “Look at you guys… Jesus… your dad’s cock’s just about as big as yours, Jake!”

I beamed back at him, now enjoying showing my body off to another young man.

“You’re really nicely toned-up, Mr Furlong,” Will smiled at me.  “You don’t look like his dad… more like his older brother!”

Jake snapped, “My dad’s not gonna fuck you, Will, if that’s what you’re after!”

I wanted to say, “Hey, let’s not rule anything out!” but then I thought that might be pushing it too far and so said instead, “There’s just twenty years between us… not that much, really!”

“But… oh my God!” Will grinned, his eyes again fixed on our crotches.  “I can’t believe your two massive cocks!  Just look at the pair of them!  You guys are so fucking hung!”

“They can be a bit of a problem,” I chuckled, “especially in confined spaces like this…”

I turned towards Jake and pushed forwards to reach for the soap, and deliberately slapped the fat droop of my huge phallus against Jake’s equally large floppy shaft.

“My goodness, I beg your pardon,” I muttered, swinging my cock from side to side to noisily bash away at Jake’s.

He laughed and made as if to reach over to adjust the shower, and slammed his big cock into mine.  He thrust it a few times to make our two over-sized sausages thump loudly together and then chuckled, “Oh excuse me…”

“If I can just move around here a little,” I suggested, and pretended to try and step around Jake but ended up nuzzling my flaccid girth even more firmly into his.  “So sorry… I seem to have got myself caught!”

“No, I think it’s my fault,” he smirked, and moved his organ up and down against mine as if trying to free it.  “If you could just wiggle yours a little… we’ll soon disentangle them…”

I jabbed my long dangling meat against my son’s, aware that it was starting to harden a little from the friction of floppily frotting with him, and that his was feeling more substantial and solid as he rubbed it up and down against mine.

“You guys are hilarious!” Will chortled.  “If I joked around with my dad like that, I think he’d phone the police!”

I stepped back from Jake and we laughed at our silliness.  I noticed that Jake’s cock was significantly larger and I saw him glance down to see that mine was too.

We were both still limp, of course, but while our two large manhoods curved incontrovertibly downwards, their shafts were much longer and thicker than they had been, and they had enough firmness to them to stand a couple of inches proud of our balls.

“One of the perils of us both being well-endowed,” I told Will as his stream of piss abated to a few final squirts.  “Sharing a shower isn’t really an option for us…”

“Might work better if you turned around, dad,” Jake suggested.

I smiled at him, surprised that with our cocks now swollen enough to be lifted outwards, he was still happy for the joke to continue in front of his university friend.

“Do you really think so?” I asked, turning around to show him and Will my pudgy bum with my crack hair plastered wetly between my two squat cheeks.

“Yeah,” Jake chuckled.  “After all, standing this way ’round what can possibly go wrong?”

“Oops!” I called out.  “This soap is sure slippery!”

I dropped it theatrically, pretending to try and catch it as it careened off the tiles all the way down to the floor.

“Better pick it up I guess,” I muttered, and then bent down to retrieve it from the wet floor of the cubicle.

I acted like I was struggling to get a grip on it, directing my backside towards my son’s fattening organ and splaying open the tangling thicket of my shower-soaked gash.

As I’d expected him to, Jake seized the opportunity with gusto.

He bellowed, “Aw yeah!  Is that an invite, dad?!” and started thrusting himself against my chubby bum.  He pushed my back down further and yanked my arse closer towards him to reveal the large pink ring of my arsehole for him to whack at noisily with his hardening cock.

Will guffawed with laughter as he saw my puffed-out pucker getting smacked by his buddy’s massive schlong, and I called out, “Do it hard, son… just how I like it!”

Jake released me and I stood back up to face him while the three of us roared with laughter at the ridiculous idea that a son might actually butt-fuck his dad.

I noticed that Jake’s cock was now much more bloated in its girth and that it stood straight outwards at an angle of about forty-five degrees.  Its pink mushroom head was slowly emerging through his retracting foreskin with its furrowed slit cleaving the tip into two.

Mine was also feeling fuller and heavier, and while its bulky shaft wasn’t quite as elevated as my son’s, my helmet had swollen plump under my foreskin with the rim around its base making a distinctive ridge.

“You guys are so cool with each other,” Will blurted out as Jake and I kept giggling at our silliness.  I think we found it so funny because we’d just fun-fucked calling each other father and son: all the times we’d done it for real, we’d kept things unequivocally as Robert and Jake.

“If I ever did anything like that with my dad, he’d just… I dunno… he’d probably like keel over and die or something!”

I smiled at him for that, loving that Jake and I could now be just like a couple of mates messing around in the shower.  Then I noticed that Will’s dick was now considerably larger.  It had long-since stopped peeing but he was still holding it in front of his pulled-down boxers.  The lad was obviously a grower because even though it only looked about half-hard it had already expanded to a good eight inches in length.

Jake chuckled, “Sorry… I just saw a hole and went for it…”  Then he added, with a cheeky smirk, “But you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, dad?”

I grabbed the bottle of shower gel and squirted a gob of the green liquid onto my hand.  “You’re a very dirty boy, Jake.  I’m afraid I’m going to have to soap you down.”

Will chortled, “Aw fuck!  This I’m gonna have to see!”

I started rubbing the soap into my son’s chest, making it froth against his prominent pecs and dribble down to collect in his belly-button.

Jake grabbed some of the gel for himself and laughed, “Can’t trust the old man to be able to wash himself these days…”

And he followed my lead and started lathering the liquid into my hairier chest and massaging down onto my newly-flattened stomach.

“Jesus, you guys!” Will cried out, his eyes agog as he peered at the foam coursing down our muscular bodies and dripping like thick gobs of cum from our protruding semis.

“I’m gonna need to clean you up good and proper,” I told my son, working my hands down his abs and lathering a rich froth into his pubes.  “Especially down here… where you’re really filthy!”

Jake surprised me by reaching further down to soap my own much fuller and hairier bush, keeping his fingers well clear of my cock and my nuts, but sliding his hands into the crack between my scrotum and thighs.

“You’re a bit nasty down here too, dad,” he chuckled.  “Better get the soap underneath… right where you need it!”

“I really need to wank off now!” Will called over.  His cock was now extremely long and curved upwards with the red plum of its head now proud and shiny.  “I know you guys are just mucking around… but damn!  You look so hot washing each other!”

He pulled his boxers back up which made his hard-on lift the front high like a mast.  He walked backwards towards the door as if unable to unfix his eyes from our two soapy bodies and said, “I’m going back to your room, Jake…. feel free to join me if you’re horny, buddy!”

He was about to turn and head out of the bathroom when he suddenly flashed me a playful smirk.  “That goes for you too, Mr Furlong!  I mean, if you really are into playing around with dudes!”

I didn’t respond – I needed to find out Jake’s opinion on us making it a Sunday morning threesome – and Will flashed me a broader grin before heading out across the corridor to attend to his erection in my son’s bedroom.

Jake and I started washing the soap off ourselves – no longer joking around together now that we didn’t have an audience – and I said, “Would you be okay if I had a bit of fun with you and your mate?”

He smiled but shook his head resolutely.  “Will’s got a big mouth.  And I don’t just mean that he’s good at getting it around my prick.”

“He’ll say stuff to your mates, will he?”

Jake nodded.  “It’ll be kinda cool if he tells folks that me and my dad were dicking around in the shower… but it’ll be weird if he mouths off that you joined in with our sex.”

“You and I don’t have to… you know… touch each other…”

“But it would be fun to, wouldn’t it?” Jake grinned.  “I mean, with the right guy… the two of us working him over… me sucking his cock, you eating his ass… and then we surprise him by… well…”

“Getting to work on each other?”

“Yeah,” he laughed.  “Having him watch us do all the stuff to each other he was hoping we’d do to him!”

“But not Will?” I checked.  What a pity the lad couldn’t keep his prattling gob shut.

He shook his head again.  “Definitely not Will.”

He got out of the shower and quickly dried himself off.  “Better go and see if lover boy fancies making another of his heinous stinks before we all go off together on our jolly bike ride.”

I chuckled as I picked up my shampoo to wash my hair.  “I’ve booked us in from eleven.  We’ll have a bite to eat and then get going by half ten.”

“I’ll be quick on the saddle, then,” he grinned.  “Get a bit of speed up down the dirt track…”

“And I might oil the old crankshaft,” I replied, already toying with my cock to get it hard enough to masturbate while the boys were enjoying their butt-fuck.

“You want me to leave my bedroom door open?” he asked with a cheeky smirk. “I reckon you’ll be able to see us across the corridor from where you’re standing…”

“That would be very sweet of you,” I nodded.  “Have him face the wall so he won’t see how attentively Mr Furlong is soaping his penis!”

Jake laughed and headed back across to his bedroom.  Within minutes I was energetically masturbating under the spray of the shower while watching my son roughly taking Will from behind on his bed.  Jake was squatting over his buddy’s back, their two pairs of legs splayed open and my son’s swollen anus on full gape as his hips frantically bucked.

I wasn’t sure which of the boys’ rears I found more arousing as my hand swept up and down my fully-charged organ.  Was it Jake’s fat red cunt, looking again so much like his mother’s?  Or his whopping great cock, thrusting wildly into his companion’s anus, the shaft of it glistening brown from the morning dump that had not yet been expunged.

Or was I more interested in Will’s smaller but much sloppier pussy?  Or even his own thinner erection pointing low as he wanked it, its owner panting from the pleasure of having his bunged-up arsehole so relentlessly ploughed.

“Jesus… it stinks, Jake!” I heard him gasp as my son grabbed him tighter and started fucking him in a blur.  “I didn’t take a shit yet… your dad… he’ll smell how bad it is!”

“Shuddup, mate… it’s well hot!” Jake panted, and I could tell from how fast he was hammering that his climax was getting near.  “Anyway my dad’ll be okay with it… he’s cool with sex stuff… really fuckin’ ace…”

“Aw yeah… your dad’s brill… totally awesome!”

“He’s the fuckin’ best!” Jake exclaimed, suddenly whimpering like a puppy as his orgasm overwhelmed him.

And under the spray of the shower I smiled as my own cock let rip with a fountain of its own, unaccountably pleased that my son had cum thinking of me.


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