Just Like My Dad
by Robert Furlong


Part 1

I met my friend Ivan because I bought my car from him.

I liked him because he was so unlike the younger, cockier salesmen I’d encountered in all the other dealerships.  I’d been trawling showrooms most of the weekend and had long since grown bored of being pestered by smarmy wide-boys in flashy tailored suits reeking of the latest after-shave.

From the outset, Ivan seemed far more authentic and I got the feeling there was a good deal more to him than he would ordinarily like to reveal.  His hair was thinning on top and he was getting a bit chubby around his middle, and once we started chatting I figured he was maybe just a couple of years younger than me.  I found I immediately warmed to him – maybe it was his self-deprecating humour or maybe his endearing air of amicable weariness – so, instead of giving him the brush-off when he came over to ask me if he could help me pick a car, we walked the forecourt together, chatting affably and getting to know each other.

He told me which cars he thought were the best deals and which he wouldn’t touch with a barge-pole.  When I found one that I thought might suit me, he advised me which extras were worth the money and which he thought were just gimmicks.

I asked him how long he’d worked selling cars and he threw me a tired smile.  “Man and boy, mate, just like my dad.  Going on for… what’ll it be now… just over twenty years.”

So that put him in his late thirties, making my guess pretty close.

“You’ve sold one or two cars, then,” I smiled.

He smirked back at me.  “Let’s just say enough to be able to cut through all the bullshit.”

We went into his office and I sat down behind his desk on which was perched a picture of him with his arm around an attractive woman, the two of them holidaying on some far-flung beach.  Before we sorted out the paperwork, he offered me a cup of tea and as he bent over to get the box of teabags out of the cupboard, I noticed he had a the most breath-taking arse amply filling the seat of his fawn-coloured trousers.  It was just the sort of big, blokeish backside I love to get my face stuck into and the sort of butt which, once I’d lubed it up with my spit, I would greatly enjoy watching quiver and ripple as my hips slapped fast and hard against it.

I guess he saw the way I was looking at his rump and licking my lips because when the time came for the car to be delivered to the showroom, Ivan offered to drive it over to my house after he’d finished work.  I’d asked him how he’d get home and he’d said, “You can give me a lift back to the dealership if that’s okay.  I’ll pick up my car and drive back from here.”

I’d nodded and he’d added, with a delightfully cheeky smirk, “That is, after we’ve finished doing everything we need to do at your place…”

“Okay,” I’d grinned and he’d beamed back at me.

We both knew the score and it was obvious what he intended.

When the day came and he’d dropped off the car, I invited him in and offered him a beer.  After a bit of chit-chat about the new car, I asked him if he’d like to take a look upstairs.

He said, “Sure, that’d be great,” and followed me up to my bedroom.

We kept talking about the car and I thought I’d get things started by casually undoing my tie.  Ivan followed my lead and took off his, and then we both started unbuttoning our shirts.  Neither of us made any reference to why we were undressing in front of each other, but just talked about the expected fuel economy and how often, with the miles I drive, I’d be likely to have to fill the tank up.

“You won’t see anything like the efficiency quoted in the handbook,” he said, sitting down on my bed to pull off his shoes and socks.

“If I can get close to fifty I’d be quite happy,” I told him, doing the same alongside him.

He kept talking about the variation I could expect with different driving conditions, standing back up to unclip his belt and unzip his fly.  We really were going to do this: we were about to get naked and have sex together on my bed.

He pulled his trousers down revealing an old-fashioned pair of blue Y-fronts, probably the sort of godawful underwear his wife bought for him in packs of five.  His cock and balls made a promising bulge in the front of them and I pulled down my trousers so he could see that mine was equally prominent in my DKNY boxer-briefs.

“You’ll find it struggles to accelerate away from uphill junctions at first,” he said chattily, “but once the engine has been properly run-in, that’ll sort itself out.”

He took his shirt off, revealing a thin growth of hair across his chest and below it a distinctly flabby beer-gut.

“You expect little teething problems for the first five-hundred miles or so,” I replied, removing my shirt to show him that, while not exactly being a contender for Mr Universe, I was in considerably better shape than he was.

“I’d give it a thousand,” he said, pulling down his underpants.  His cock was still floppy but nicely thick and chunky with a pale pink helmet poking out from his gaping foreskin.  It hung solidly over his plump hairy nuts, giving the impression of just beginning to get aroused at the prospect of having intercourse with another male.

I pulled my boxers down so he could see that I was running a semi.  He smiled at its broad girth and long, developing shaft and I was pleased that he wasn’t intimated by my endowment like some men who identify as predominantly straight.

Having seen what I had to offer he got on the bed on all fours, sticking that wonderful big, meaty butt out at me with his hairy nuts hanging down between his legs.

I wondered we were going to continue chatting nonchalantly about the car, even as I mounted him, grabbed him by the hips and proceeded to anally copulate with him.  Talk about the air-con and how often the oil would need changing as I squatted behind him, rogering his big flabby arse with my bollocks slapping noisily against the backs of his legs.

But instead Ivan brought the car-talk to an end by saying, “I assume you have condoms stashed away somewhere…?”

“Of course,” I chuckled, “but I was rather hoping I could rim you first.”

He laughed back, peering across at me over his shoulder.  “I thought you’d want to eat me out.  I saw the way you were licking your lips when I was bending over behind my desk!”

“It looks a good deal better without your trousers on,” I told him.  It did look incredible with him bending over like this.  The cheeks were so deliciously round and pudgy, and the crack was filled to overflowing with an inviting tangle of thick, wiry hair.

“My missus doesn’t share your enthusiasm,” he said.  “That’s why I take the occasional… er… opportunity like this.  I like it to get a bit of attention every once in a while!”

I chuckled and got on the bed behind him.  My cock was now almost fully engorged from the knowledge that this exquisite rump really was going to mine for the taking.

I gently caressed both of his round, succulent buttocks and then ran my fingers up and down his moist, wiry crack.  The smell of his butt hair, ripe and pungent, made my cock head swell up like a big, shiny plum and I had to swallow a couple of times my mouth was watering so much.

“So you like getting your butt fucked?” I asked, working my fingers more deeply into his humid trench, rubbing them past the hot, sticky pucker of his bloated entrance.

“Always ever have done,” he replied.  “I have a good sex life with my wife – very enjoyable, actually – but I’ve always liked getting on all fours like this and taking a nice big dick up my arse!”

“Well, I’ll be happy to oblige, Ivan,” I chuckled, working a couple of fingers into the slimy grip of his well-used hole.  “Your bum is simply stunning!”

“Yeah, it’s funny how fellas always like my big hairy arse,” he grinned back at me over his shoulder, “but my wife won’t go anywhere near it!”

“She doesn’t know what she’s missing,” I smiled back, sliding my fingers in and out of his cock-stretched opening and revelling in the delicious stink that my exertions were producing.  “Now you know my address, feel free to drop by whenever it feels neglected!”

“I’ll take you up on that, Rob,” he laughed.

I leaned forwards and kissed his big chubby buttocks: first the left and then across to the right.  They smelt enticing – a little sweaty from the moisture that had gathered in the back of his Y-fronts during his day at the dealership, but more strongly of that exquisite earthy pungence that his gaping hole was kicking out as I gently fingered it.

“I’d like to fuck you as well,” he said, pushing his hefty butt against my hand.  “I’d like us to both have our turn if you’d be up for that.”

“Oh, absolutely, Ivan!” I told him.  “I love taking turns – it’s the best part of doing it with another guy!”

I withdrew my fingers from his slippery chute and applied instead my mouth to his sumptuously furry butt-crack.  I reached my tongue out to lick at his puffy anal ring, relishing the thick acrid taste that oozed out from inside.  I lapped at it, flicking my tongue against his wide opening, while I sniffed hungrily at the strong heady fug that had spent the day lurking in the deep bristling crack underneath the back of his trousers.

“Ah yeah,” he called out, “lick my big fat arse!”

He grabbed my head and ground my face roughly into his rear, commanding, “Come on, eat me out!  Shove your tongue right up my arsehole!”

I murmured appreciatively and drove my tongue into his clammy tunnel, coaxing out the strongest of his odours and reaching down to squeeze my cock as I savoured his richest, most vulgar taste.

How could Ivan’s wife ignore such a scrumptious backside, bulging enticingly inside the well-filled seat of her big husband’s straining underwear?  How could she resist plunging her face between his hefty cheeks, to impatiently inhale the wonderfully whiffy thicket bristling inside and to feast so fervently on her man’s filthiest flavours?

Fearing I was going to climax, I quickly pulled away and, once I’d snapped on a condom and smeared a dollop of lube down my shaft, shoved my knees between his so I work my throbbing erection up the gaping hole I’d just licked out.  Once I’d mounted him, I grabbed onto his hips and started fucking him in earnest, developing a rapid, thumping rhythm against his wobbly buttocks and making long, arching sweeps with the full length of my cock.

“Oh yeah!” he gasped.  “Come on, plough me Rob!”

I laughed and panted, “You sure this is okay?  I’m not being too rough, am I?”

“No way mate!” he grinned up at me over his shoulder.  “Come on, bum me as hard as you like!  Let me know how much you want it!”

I moved my hands up to cling onto his shoulders and really went for it with him, slapping my hips fast and hard against his hefty buttocks and making my full, heavy nuts whack painfully against his own big bollocks swinging between his legs.

He looked over at the two of us in my wardrobe mirror and grunted, “Bloody hell, Rob – look at the two of us!  We look as hot as fuck!”

I looked over at us too, and we grinned at each other, enjoying the sight of us boisterously butt-fucking in the classic gay position.  He was right – we looked incredible, with him on all fours pushing his arse back against me and me right behind him drilling my cock in and out of his furry crack and holding tightly onto his hips.  We were like two big sweaty blokes acting out a lewd act we’d stumbled across on the internet, both beaming at each other at how naughty we were being to be doing it up the bum when we both had women in our lives.

“Jesus, mate,” he called out, “look at my big hairy arse!  Look at how massive your knob is banging in and out of it!”

“Do you like it?” I gasped.  “Do you like seeing yourself being buggered?”

“I fucking love it!” he laughed back at me through the wardrobe mirror.  “I love seeing a big, thick cock like yours shagging me up the arse!”

His belly hung down low and his huge wobbly buttocks quivered like jelly every time my hips slammed into them, but if anything that added to the eroticism of how we looked.  We were having sex together as two big men, enjoying each other’s maleness and flabbiness and hairiness.  I could see from how eager he was to be receiving me that Ivan felt as I did: far from being a mere substitute for the vaginal intercourse we both also enjoyed, this deliciously homosexual and alluringly anal version was something we both esteemed on its own illicit terms.

“Do you want me to wank you off?!” I called down to him, although I would struggle to do so with his big gut in the way.

“No,” he panted back.  “I might bust my nut before I’ve had my turn on you!”

“That’s okay,” I gasped, “I don’t mind if you cum.”  I loved it when a guy climaxed with my cock deep up inside him.  It was exquisite to have his rectal muscles spasming around my pumping organ, and I loved the rush of virility I felt by causing a fellow male to reach a shuddering orgasm from having my large erection pounding at his bum.

“No, I want my turn,” he called out.  “It’s really important to me that we do it both ways!”

“Fair enough,” I smirked, and then started down my home straight.  I leaned over him so that my chest was rubbing against his back and hooked my arms underneath his armpits to cling onto him by his shoulders.  Then, holding his bulky body firmly in place underneath me, I smacked my hips like an applause against his soft, plump behind.

“Ah yeah!” he exclaimed.  “Go for it, Rob!  Knob my arse really hard and nut off up it!”

I looked across at us in the mirror again, loving the sight of me hugging him so close and the way my arse was banging up and down on top of his.  I wondered what his wife would think if she could see him like this with a man heaving away on top of him and a cock as big as mine slamming in and out of his quivering butt-cheeks.  She would probably be shocked at how much he was enjoying the feel of it; being so roughly impaled through a part of his body whose only significance, as far as she was concerned, was the stink it quite often left behind in the bathroom.

A stink it was kicking out most prolifically now.

He saw me through the mirror sniffing at the strong smell from his bum and asked hesitantly, “Do you like it?”

I smiled back at him and managed to grunt, even as I laboured for breath, “I love it, Ivan!  It’s the smell of our butt-fucking!”

He grinned broadly and, thrusting his butt up in time to meet the relentless hammering of my tireless cock, called out, “Well churn it even harder, mate!  Let’s make the whole house stink of your cock banging away at my big hairy arse!”

I climaxed abruptly and rode the crest of my orgasm panting and whimpering into the back of his neck.  I kept bucking my hips, planting my seed deep up inside his bowels, as he called out in encouragement, “Ah yeah, give me all your spunk, Rob!  Empty your massive bollocks right up my shitter, mate!”

After I’d withdrawn from him and hidden the well-filled and grimly-streaked condom away in some tissue, Ivan was eager to have his turn on me.

A second condom was torn open and unfurled down his large, excited cock even before I’d finished wiping off my dribbling semen.  Once I’d lubed myself up, he got me to crouch in front of him, facing away and with my bum pushing out so he could similarly crouch behind me and work his organ up inside me.

He held me round the chest with his big hairy arms and then firmly eased his fattened cock head through my slippery sphincter.  As my butt muscles relaxed, stretching open to take him, and his thick shaft pushed its way effortlessly up into my bowels, he laughed, “Mind, you’ve had a few blokes up here, haven’t you, mate?”

“One or two,” I chuckled.

“I knew you’d be up for having your arse fucked when I first saw you on the forecourt,” he told me as his cock slid all the way up me and I felt his wiry pubic bush scratch against my cheeks.

“Really?” I asked, enjoying the feel of having a good-sized manhood filling up my rapacious rectum.  “How could you tell?”

“You had a certain confidence about you,” Ivan replied.  “Something that told me you played it both ways.”

I had to laugh at that.  “Me?  Confident?  I’m probably one of the least confident people I know!”

“A sexual confidence,” he explained.  “You gave the impression of being a guy at ease with his own sexuality – comfortable enough to get it on with whoever you find attractive, regardless of gender.”

I nodded as he started a slow rhythm in and out of me.  “A few years ago I would never have thought that possible, but… yeah… maybe you’re right. Maybe I have become sexually confident.”

“Confident enough to admit you like the smell of bum sex,” he reminded me, quickening his speed.  My cock, which had started softening post-climax, began to harden again at the sensation of having a well-built brother pumping away just behind it.

“I do like the smell of two men having anal,” I smiled.  “It’s so incredibly hot!”

He chuckled into my back, making harder thrusts and using more of the length of his shaft.  “It’s unlike anything you get with a woman,” he gasped.  “The stink you get when it’s two fellas doing it… it’s totally fucking awesome!”

I grinned over at him through the mirror, loving the sight of us squatting upright together with his hips growing faster against my squashy buttocks. I could smell quite distinctly the odour of his cock sliding in and out of my hot, moist rump.  It was much more intense than usual and far more rank and raunchy than his had been.

“Do you like the stink now?” I asked.

He smirked back at me with his forehead growing sweaty and his cheeks bright red.  “It’s a lot rougher than I thought it would be, Rob!  For a well turned-out fella like you, you sure kick out a hell of a butt-whiff!”

“But do you like it?” I persisted.

“Of course I do,” he grinned.  “I love it, mate!”

He started butt-fucking me quickly, moving his arms down around my belly so he could really work his hips against my backside.  We grinned over at each other through my wardrobe mirror, admiring the sight of our big, stocky bodies pressed so close together and loving the way we were joined together by his thick, meaty cock noisily hammer-drilling at my round, chubby buttocks.

“This is why I like to do it both ways,” he told me, his breath hot against the back of my shoulder.  “So we can smell each other’s stink!”

He pushed me down onto the bed so that I was on all fours as he had been. Then he grabbed me the shoulders and really went to town against my bum. He fucked me as hard and as fast as he was able to, panting and heaving as he revelled in his occasional treat of male-on-male buggery.

I looked back at him over my shoulder and grinned at his wet, flushed face. “Ah yeah!  Bang my arse, mate!” I gasped up to him, feeling my aching erection pulsing against my stomach and loving the sensation of being so roughly buggered by such a big, strident man.

He inhaled the crude odour our homosexual coupling was so fiercely giving off and muttered, “Oh God, this is as horny as fuck!  We’re like a couple of fucking pigs, wallowing in it!”

I called out to him, knowing how much he’d like it, “Come on, Ivan, fuck my skanky arse!  Do it rougher, mate – screw the stink out of me!  Really hard and fast, right up my dirty shit-hole!”

He started cumming heavily, grinding his hips against my buttocks.  I could feel the end of the condom inflating with his semen up inside my bum and the heat it was giving off as it pumped out of him.  I grabbed my cock and started wanking myself quickly, loving the sensation of having such an expressive man climaxing inside me, and before his orgasm had fully subsided, I produced a second large deposit of my oft-spent seed in a long sticky spray right across the duvet.

As he fell onto my back and recovered his breath against the valley between my shoulder blades, the first thing he said was, “Seriously mate, we have got to do this again!”

I laughed my agreement and said, “Any time you like, Ivan!”

“I’ve never done it with a fella who was as into the smells of two blokes butt-fucking as I am.”

“I think you’ll find,” I told him, “that sex smells are a really important part of what I enjoy.”

“And the stink from your arse, Rob,” he went on, easing his drooping manhood out of me with a slurpy wet fart.  “It was fucking intense!”

I chuckled and pulled away from him, then passed him some tissues for the condom and his cock.

“When I’m doing it with Trisha,” he said, “I really miss that strong, distinctive smell you get with another man.  With you, though – Christ! – I was never in any doubt that it was another fella’s big brown hole I had my cock shafting in and out of!”

I smiled at him, wiping myself down before we could clean up properly. “I’m the same with my girlfriend Debbie.  She’s got a real thing about odours and that makes our sex pretty sterile.  I enjoy it – don’t get me wrong – but compared to what we’ve just done, it really lacks something that’s a huge turn-on.”

He nodded and asked, “Can I take a shower, if you don’t mind?  My wife… well… let’s say she’s got a good nose!”

I told him to help himself to the fresh towels in the cupboard (I didn’t mention that these were mainly for the young men my son brings back from uni with him) and that once he was ready I’d drive him back to retrieve his own car from the dealership.


Part 2

As I drove Ivan back across town in my swanky new car, I asked him how he’d ended up seeking out men for sex in spite of being married to such an attractive woman and having what he’d described as an ‘enjoyable’ sex life.

“I love Trisha,” he replied, “and I’m being totally honest when I say it excites me to make love with her.  But on a totally different level, I enjoy doing it with other blokes too –”

“Why ‘on a totally different level’,” I cut in.

“I just mean that the stuff I like doing with men arouses me in a different way from the intimacy I have with my wife.  My fantasies and fetishes are very specific – the guy has to be willing to do anal and I strongly prefer flip-flop.”

“Flip-flop?” I asked, wondering if he had a shoe fetish he hadn’t told me about.

“Yeah, doing it both ways, like we just did.  First one of us takes it, then we change places and the other one takes it.”

“Oh right,” I smiled.  “Yes, I like that too.”

“Go easy on the gears for the first few weeks,” he advised about my driving.  “Try to change up a bit later than you ordinarily would.  It avoids labouring the engine.”

I did as he suggested, pulling away from a T-junction and keeping it in first gear long beyond what sounded healthy, and asked him why he thought he liked flip-flop so much.

“It goes back to when I was in my late teens,” he said.  “They say your formative sexual experiences colour your sexuality for life.”

“Did you flip-flop with your buddies?”

He grinned over at me.  “When I had chance, which wasn’t that often!  Not many guys are into it but, like with you, I got to figure out ways of spotting them.  So yeah, some nights a few drinks and a stopover round a certain friend-of-a-friend’s place would end up with the two of us riding on each other’s backs!”

“Sounds fun,” I chuckled.

“It was,” he laughed back, “as long as we were both discreet about it.”

I drove on, trying to figure out how the headlights worked since it was starting to get dark, as he explained, “I’ve always called myself straight, Rob – I mean, I had girlfriends all the way through my teens.  I’ve never dated a guy – never wanted to get into what you might call a relationship with another bloke – but no matter which girl or woman I was with and how much sex they were serving up, I’ve always sought out other men for… well… basically, for a bit of what we just did!”

“So you think having reciprocal anal sex with your mates in your teens has made you want it all your life?”

“No I don’t think that,” he replied.  “I think it goes back to something that happened on a fishing trip.  In fact I’m sure it does.”

“A fishing trip?” I asked, accidentally switching on the wipers instead of indicating to turn right.

“Yeah, it was me and a mate with our two dads up in Northumbria.  We often went there for a week of trout fishing and we slept in a couple of tents. Our dads had been good friends since their schooldays so they always shared a tent, and I shared with Daryl who I’d known since we were kids even though we weren’t like bezzie mates or anything.”

I nodded and managed to stall the car as I tried to pull out from the junction.

“One night,” he continued once we were back on the road, “I couldn’t sleep and it was getting really late.  Lying there in my sleeping bag, I heard steady rhythmic sounds coming from outside and I figured my dad and Mr Jackson must be beating off in their tent.  I don’t know why, but the thought of our dads pulling away at their hard-ons started getting me horny, listening to their panting and gasping and the quickening slapping sounds they were making together.

“Soon my own stalk was as boned-up as theirs, and I crept out of my tent to go and take a peep through their tent flap.  I thought they’d be lying there with their feet pointing towards me, their knobs poking upwards and their hands bashing up and down the thick veiny shafts.  A bit like me and Daryl did when we unzipped our sleeping bags and whacked off together in our tent, like we sometimes did.”

“Why were you curious to see what your dads were doing?” I asked.

“I dunno,” he shrugged.  “It’s what lads are like, isn’t it?  Fascinated about anything to do with sex.  I probably wanted to see if Mr Jackson’s dick was bigger than my dad’s… whether they wanked off the same way I did… how much spunk they made when they both shot off… that kind of stuff…”

“Okay, so what happened next?”

“When I shone my torch in on them, I didn’t see what I expected to at all. Instead of their two dongs poking upwards and their hands smacking away, both their faces were right there in front of me looking at me through the tent flap, peering straight at me with my dad’s on top of Mr Jackson’s.  I just about dropped my torch I was so surprised.

“‘What do you want?’ my dad snapped, keeping up the weird rhythmic movements he was making against Mr Jackson.  I saw he’d wrapped his arms around Mr Jackson’s chest and even though they both had their t-shirts on, I could see that my dad had his pants pulled down from how his white pudgy arse was bobbing up and down behind his face.

“‘They can’t really be bumming,’ I remember thinking.  ‘Surely to fuck my dad can’t be bumming another bloke’s arse!'”

“You knew about gay sex at that age, did you?” I asked him, still fiddling with rear-view mirror as I drove to get it just right.

“Of course I did,” he laughed.  “I must have been eighteen when this happened and I was never that sweet and innocent!  I knew that straight lads like me did it to girls up their fannies and that gay lads did the same thing using each other’s arseholes.  And I was pretty sure – although I couldn’t really believe it – that that was what I watching my dad do to Mr Jackson.

“I could hear a weird wet munching sound coming from between them and I kept getting a whiff of a really fierce shitty stink that neither of the two men seemed at all bothered by.”

“Did it disgust you?” I asked him.

“No.  I suppose, if anything, it intrigued me,” he replied.  “I figured it was the smell you must get when two men are doing it and, as it was totally different from the sex smells I was used to of boys doing girls, I found it… well… pretty interesting, actually.”

I smiled, checking that the mirror was as good as I could get it.  “So what did you say to him?”

“I told him I just wondered what the two of them were doing.

“‘What does it look like we’re doing?’ my dad asked huffily, not missing a beat as he kept grinding away on top of Mr Jackson.

“I must have just stared at them, wondering if they were really doing what I thought they were.  Was this some stupid prank they were playing, or were they actually having gay sex right in front of me, my dad knobbing Mr Jackson up his dirty stinky bum?”

“Mr Jackson, who was just lying their taking it with my dad’s chest heaving against his back, quipped, ‘Come on, Ivan mate.  Give us some privacy!’

“There was a fart – a really sloppy-sounding one – but neither of them so much as smiled and my dad just kept doing his thing, his forehead starting to bead with sweat.

“He said, ‘If we’re keeping you awake, we won’t be long… just don’t spy in on us while we’re chuffing off!’

“I nodded and pulled their tent flap closed and went back to my tent.  So they were having bum sex, right there in the next tent to ours!  I’d never heard it called ‘chuffing off’ before but it was pretty clear what he meant.”

I smiled over at him.  “It’s interesting the different words straight men use when they have gay sex, as if cloaking it in an inoffensive name somehow makes the act less emotionally troublesome.”

A driver swerved in to cut me up so I gave him a stern blast of my windscreen washer.

“I lay there in my sleeping bag listening to them, my dad’s rhythm getting steadily faster, until with three or four low grunts, it abruptly stopped. After half a minute or so, the two of them started moving around and I heard dad whisper, ‘Oh fuck, that’s well skanky!  Pass me some bog roll over.’

“Mr Jackson whispered something and I heard dad chuckle.  ‘If you’ve got the runs, mate, I’ve probably just made it a helluva lot worse!’

“I put my pillow over my head, not wanting to hear anything more, and struggled to get to sleep with everything I’d just seen and heard running through my mind on endless repeat.”

I nodded.  “Things have must have awkward between you and your dad for a while after that…”

“Not really,” he contended.  “I don’t actually think my dad was in any way troubled by what he and Mr Jackson were doing.  He even talked about it with me the next day while we were fishing.”

“Really?  What did he say?”

“He apologised for being snappy with me and said of course it was natural that I was curious about sex stuff.  I asked him, ‘So does that mean you were… er… doing sex stuff with Mr Jackson?  Making love to him?’

“He roared a great deep belly laugh at that and said, ‘Of course I wasn’t making love to him, Ivan!  That’s what I do to your mum!’

“‘What were you doing to him, then?’ I asked.

“‘You could see what we were doing – you could probably smell it too! We were just chuffing off the way blokes do when they’re caged-in together!’

“‘Chuffing off?  You mean you were… er… doing it with his backside?’

“He chuckled again like I was being really dim.  ‘That’s how it works, son! It’s not like he’s got any other holes down there I could use!’

“‘But isn’t that a gay thing?’ I came back with.  ‘Doing sex stuff with other men, I mean?’

“‘Come on, don’t be daft,’ he laughed, ‘do me and him look like we’re gay? Doing it that way is just what fellas do when they’re horny but there aren’t any women around.’

“‘Is that for real?’ I asked him.  ‘Men actually do it with each other – up each other’s bums – when they’re away from their wives?’

“‘Of course they do,’ he laughed.  ‘You’ve heard stories about prisons and army barracks and stuff, haven’t you?’

“I nodded back at him.

“‘Well the same goes for fishing trips.  It’s not healthy for a bloke to go too long without releasing his… you know…’

“I asked, ‘But can’t you just use your hand?’

“He grinned like I was so naive.  ‘That might work for you and Dylan at your age, knuckling off under your sleeping bags after lights-out, but it’s not the same when you’re a man.  Your balls get bigger… they need emptying properly.  You need to get your leg over, son… to do it for real with another person.  You’ll understand soon enough.”

“I wasn’t convinced but I persisted with my questions.  ‘So does it feel the same, then, when you do it with another fella?  Is it just like getting your end away with a woman?’

“He shrugged and replied, ‘It’s not the same but it’s near enough to get by.  It smells a lot different – you probably noticed that – but you learn to ignore it.’

“‘And Mr Jackson is okay with it?  He doesn’t mind rolling over for you to get on top of him and… er… push your dick up his bum?’

“It’s not like that!’ he laughed.  ‘He expects his turn too!  It’s got to be a two-way thing, kiddo!’

“‘What, you let him do it to you?’ I asked, unable to hide my surprise.

“‘We help each other out, mate – that’s how it works when blokes are holed-up on their own.  Bit of give and take… you know… I scratch your back, you scratch mine, that sort of thing!’

“‘You take turns doing it to each other?’ I asked him, still wide-eyed.

“He shrugged.  ‘Pretty much, yeah.  I mean we don’t… you know… plan it out that way, but fellas get horny and if you’re letting your mate… well… use your bum to stop his balls aching, you’re gonna want something in return sooner or later.’

“‘Oh right,’ I said, aware that I was gaping stupidly like one of the fish we’d caught.

“‘It’s really no big deal, Ivan!’ he laughed.  ‘It’s just a quick way for two blokes to blow their loads!”

“‘But isn’t it kinda like making love?’

“He laughed again, like I was a really slow learner.  ‘Did the two of us big hairy fellas look like we were making love last night?  Did the stink from his arse make it smell like we were making love?’

“I shook my head.  ‘I guess not.’

“‘So of course it’s not making love!  I mean, we weren’t even looking at each other!  How can it be making love if you’re looking at the back of the other fella’s head?’

“I shrugged.  ‘I dunno…’

“‘There’s no romance or anything in it,’ he insisted.

“‘It sounds a bit… weird,’ I told him.  It was the only word I could think of to describe my confusion.

“‘Come on, son, there’s nothing weird about it.  Let me tell you how it works, then you’ll see it’s just a bodily function, sort of.  Like taking a pee together – nothing more than that.’

“I nodded, still sceptical, and he went on, ‘What happens is, when you’re feeling horny, you let your mate see you’ve cracked a fat when the two of you are getting undressed.  If he’s up for it too, he gets down on his stomach, pulls his skiddy scruts down a bit and you climb on top of him. There’s no kissing or saying sloppy stuff to him, or anything like that. You just work your dick up him, slide it in and out until it feels dead nice, and next thing your balls feel half a stone lighter!’

“I nodded, thinking this sounded a lot like making love to me.

“‘Then you roll over and let the other bloke have his turn,’ he went on. ‘So, you see son, it’s totally different from doing proper sex stuff with your mum!’

“That made something else occur to me.  ‘Does mum know you and Mr Jackson do this… er… chuffing off thing when we come away?’

“‘Of course she doesn’t!’ he hissed conspiratorially, like she would somehow be able to hear.  ‘Women don’t need sex all the time like men do. She wouldn’t understand why I couldn’t just hold off until I got back home.’

“I nodded again.  ‘Well, don’t worry, dad.  I won’t say anything.’

“He smiled at me and ruffled my hair like I was doing him a favour.  I mean, as if I would have announced to mum over Sunday lunch: ‘Did you know that dad and Mr Jackson take turns to bum each other in their tent when we’re on our fishing trips?'”

I laughed as I pulled off the dual carriageway – the engine was ticking over nicely by now – and he went on with his story.

“In the end he said that while he didn’t want me spying on him and Mr Jackson after lights-out, if I heard them ‘chuffing off’ again and I was curious to see what it looked like and how it worked, he’d let me take a quick peep through their tent flap.

“‘What if Mr Jackson sees me?’ I asked, feeling myself growing hard in my waders at the prospect of seeing the two of them going at it together in their tent.  Even though the idea of gay sex had never interested me before, the thought of seeing these two stocky, solid men doing sex stuff together, shoving their thick bloke-sized cocks up each other’s big hairy arses, was really boning my prick up.’

“Why do you think that was?” I asked.

“Maybe it was the sheer carnality of it… the way the two of them were having brute, passionless sex together, almost like performing a bodily function, as my dad had put it.  Just rutting away on top of each other, without any preliminaries or discussion… there was something animal about it which for some reason seriously aroused me.”

I smiled at how much thought he’d clearly devoted to this over the years. Then I asked, “So what did your dad say?”

“He told me Mr Jackson would be okay with it too.  He said, ‘We thought you might have told Daryl what you saw us doing last night, so he’s going to talk to him about it the way you and me are.  If Daryl wants a peep too, I don’t mind letting him see that it’s just a normal thing that fellas do when they’re cooped up together.’

“So that’s what we did.  That same night, when the steady rhythmic sound of men ‘chuffing off’ drifted over from our dads’ tent, we both crept out to take a look at what they were doing.  I don’t know about Daryl, but my knob was rock hard even before I was out of my sleeping bag.  That’s why I think this had such a profound effect on me, you see Rob: I was so turned-on by the idea of seeing my dad having sex with Mr Jackson, I reckon it imprinted itself deep in my brain and it ended up becoming part of my own sexuality. It made me want to keep doing it with other men even now, even though I love my wife hugely and we have a really good sex life.”

I nodded at him through the gathering gloom of the dusk.  “That’s interesting.  For me, the appeal didn’t manifest itself until much later in life.  After my divorce, actually.”

He nodded back before continuing, “My dad and Mr Jackson obviously knew we were going to peep in on them, because that night they were doing it side-on to us.  I reckon they wanted us to be able to get a good look at how it worked for the two of them.

“They were in the proper gay position, like I’d seen scrawled all over the walls in the boys’ bogs at school.  Mr Jackson was on all fours with his undershorts yanked down at the back; dad was kneeling behind him holding onto his hips.  His saggy briefs were halfway down his thighs and his big thick cock was pumping in and out of Mr Jackson’s hairy arse-crack.

“It was one of the most deeply erotic things I’ve ever seen, Rob,” he told me.  “I’ve relived that moment so many times and I still can’t get over how stunning the two of them looked together.  Their torch was lying in front of them, lighting them really strikingly from below and casting long black shadows behind them.

“In spite of how stark and purely functional my dad had described their sex, they looked… well… truly beautiful at that moment and I just stared in at them, totally gobsmacked!”

I smiled at him and asked, “Did they acknowledge that they were aware of you watching them?”

He nodded.  “Dad grinned over at me, looking almost proud that he was showing his son how to use another man as a substitute for a woman, and then Mr Jackson peered over at Daryl, chuckling at his boy’s stunned expression as he pushed his bum back to meet every thrust of my dad’s cock.

“Daryl whispered, ‘This is awesome!’ and I saw his dick was sticking right out in his pants, looking just as hard as mine.  I knew then what I wanted to do right away: I wanted us to go back to our tent and for me to do to him what my dad was doing to his.

“Before I could suggest that to him, we both looked on in amazement as my dad started pounding really hard and fast, and then watched open-mouthed as he gasped and shuddered and squirted his seed up into Mr Jackson’s bowels. Once he was done, he pulled away and the two of them dutifully swapped positions, dad getting on all fours in front of Mr Jackson who jerked his cock a few times before having his turn to work it up his bum.

“They quickly developed a rapid, forceful rhythm and were soon roughly hammering against each other, with Mr Jackson’s big bollocks slapping loudly against the back of my dad’s legs.  Again they smiled over at us, pleased to be showing us how men could use each other when their wives and girlfriends weren’t around for sex.

“‘Cor, it doesn’t half stink, doesn’t it?’ Daryl grinned and I realised the smell that I’d assumed to be from cows in a nearby field was actually wafting over from this exclusively male version of sex.

“I inhaled it deeply, instantly loving how crude and carnal it was.  ‘It’s the smell of bumming,’ I told Daryl in a whisper.  ‘The smell of fellas doing it with each other’s arses!’

“He beamed at me, sniffing eagerly himself, and said, ‘It’s like the smell of skidmarks, only much, much stronger!’

“I asked him, ‘Do you wanna make a stink in our tent?’  Since we both had raging hard-ons making wigwams of our briefs, it seemed like the obvious question to ask.

“‘Fuck yeah!’ he said back.

“As we scampered back over to our tent, I said, ‘Bagsy I get first… er… chuff!’

“He laughed at that.  ‘As long as I get my turn!’

“We did it like our dads had shown us: him on all fours side-on to the tent door and me behind him with my knees between his.  We shone our torch towards us as we yanked down our pants and I spat on my cock like Mr Jackson had.  Then I slowly worked up into his hot, slimy arsehole, loving the way his butt muscles were squeezing the head of it as I drove it all the way into his dirty brown tunnel.

“I grabbed him by the hips and started butt-fucking him roughly: much harder and faster than I would ever do to a girl.  He called out in pleasure and reached underneath his belly to jack himself off, but I stopped him, whispering, ‘You don’t wanna spunk up, mate.  You wanna hold off and do me… that’s how it works!’

“He nodded and let go of his cock, and then I continued pummelling him with long, rapid thrusts.  It felt so exciting to be like this, screwing another lad in the position I’d seen daubed all over the boys’ toilets countless times but which it would have never occurred to me would be so thrilling to try.

“I could feel my orgasm building and I grabbed his shoulders for leverage, slamming my hips against his butt cheeks so hard that it sounded like I was spanking his arse like a naughty kid.  It stunk like hell but it felt so hot, bumming him as fast as I could with my balls cracking painfully against his.

“That’s when I saw a movement off to my side and saw my dad and Mr Jackson peering through the tent flap.  They smiled in at me, looking proud that I was following their lead, and I smirked back at them, panting and gasping, with dribbles of sweat streaming down my face.

“As I nutted off up Daryl’s butt, I heard Mr Jackson say to my dad, ‘Your Ivan’s certainly a fast learner!’

“Then as we swapped positions and Daryl worked his spit-lubed hard-on up my hairy hole, I heard dad say back, ‘Looks like your Daryl’s picked up a few tricks too!’

“They watched us for a minute or so as Daryl worked up a speed and an intensity of his own, holding onto my hips as he enjoyed his first taste of butt-fucking another guy.  We both grinned over at our dads, pleased to be showing off what we’d learned from watching them, as Daryl humped my arse with all the frantic energy of a horny buck rabbit and I pushed my hole just as roughly back against his jabbing shaft.

“They left us to it and Daryl quickly shot off up inside me, filling my bum with his hot sticky seed and giving me a sensation that I’ve craved ever since.

“We got into our sleeping bags then, of course, and if Daryl thought I was going to be shy or embarrassed next morning, he was in for a surprise.  The first thing I wanted, even before opened the tent flap to get some fresh air, was another go on each other but this time with him going first.

“We spent the next couple of days of the fishing trip pretty much doing the same thing: shagging in our tent whenever we were able and bonking behind the bushes while our dads were fishing.  At first our dads thought it was pretty funny but then the jokes quickly fizzled out and even Daryl started saying I was asking for it too much.

“So I turned it down a notch and just did it when he wanted to, usually at night when our dads were quietly at it in their tent.  I could tell, though, that this was something that was going to fascinate me for the rest of my life and that I wasn’t going to be able to restrict it to occasional male-only activities like fishing trips.

“When I got back home, I figured out through rumours and gossip lads of the same persuasion who might be up for some cock and bum fun if I invited them home.  I enjoyed the stuff I did with girls and I loved it when I had a proper girlfriend, but I was always on the look-out for blokes who play it both ways as I now realised I liked to.

“So that’s how it went until I got the job at the dealership.  And now I’m married to Trisha and still going at it, watching out for mechanics and reps who have a twinkle in their eye, and customers like you who can’t stop staring at my bum.”

“Wow!” I laughed, pulling onto the forecourt.  “That’s a hell of a story!”

I parked up in one of the spaces ‘strictly reserved for service and repairs’ and grinned over at him.

“We really will have to meet up again, Ivan.  The sex was fun but the drive back has really been fascinating.  Maybe we could meet up for a drink sometime and I can tell you my story.”

He smiled.  “That’d be good, Rob.  I’d like that.”

I couldn’t help but stare, agog, at his magnificent arse straining in the back of his trousers as he climbed out of the car.  Although I’d thought he couldn’t see me, I heard him chortle and say, “And I bet you think you’re being so subtle!”

He poked his face back in and grinned, “You’re an open book, mate.  Well, at least to a like-minded bloke like me.”

“Give me a call,” I chuckled.  “Whenever fits with your home life.”

“Will do,” he nodded, and I pulled away as the lights on a car over the other side of the forecourt flashed twice as he unlocked it from a distance.

As I drove away from the dealership I wondered whether Ivan’s dad was still alive, and whether he’d ever suspected that what his son had seen during the fishing trip had had such a profound and lasting effect on him.


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