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“So, tell me about you and Marcus,” my dad said after he’d sat himself down opposite me with his glass of white wine.
“What’s there to tell?” I asked with a shrug after taking a deep gulp from the beer he’d handed me. I was more used to being passed a glass of coke or Sprite but now that I’d spent my first term at university and was seen as ‘all growed up’, he was finally letting me join him for a proper father and son drink.
“How did the two of you… well… ‘get together’ I suppose you’d call it?”
I smiled. He could be such a gumby sometimes.
“I told you,” I said. “We were playing Jenga – a whole group of us lads, pissed – and I chose the block that said I had to lick the butt of the guy sitting next to me. Which happened to be Marcus.”
“I suppose it’s your classic boy-meets-boy story,” my dad observed dryly. He thought he was so funny.
“There’s not much more to tell,” I said, putting the glass down on the table. “I licked his bum with them filming me on their phones, and I found I actually liked it. I didn’t show how I felt to the others, though. I made out like I was about to ralph. After that, though -“
“About to ‘ralph’?” my dad cut in.
“Yeah, you know… vomit. I was retching like it was the most manky thing in the world, but all the time I was really enjoying it.”
“You got aroused?”
I laughed. “Of course I did!”
My dad smiled back. “Didn’t you find, though, like I often do, that your excitement was difficult to conceal? I know that we’re… er… similarly built out front, you and I.”
I chuckled at his fuckward way of saying things. If he felt the need to point out that we both have big dicks, why didn’t he just say it?
“I was crouching behind him,” I explained. “And in any case, the other lads’ eyes were on how far I was pushing my tongue between Marcus’s butt-cheeks. I could have had my knob out and been stroking it and they probably wouldn’t have figured.”
My dad smiled but I could see he was embarrassed that I’d referred to masturbation. I couldn’t understand why as we both knew how often we both did it – Jeez, it was just something that was going to happen when you have two over-sexed males living together.
Just that morning, when he’d sleepily shuffled towards the bathroom, a quick glance through the half-open door of my bedroom had told him how his son’s day was starting. And ten minutes later, when I was clumping downstairs for a coffee, the rapid thumping of his duvet from his bedroom door had confirmed that he too had woke up horny.
Guys wank. Get over it.
“So what happened after that?” dad asked. “You said that Marcus had stayed over with you and that the two of you had… well… experimented together.”
“I dunno if you wanna hear it, dad!” I laughed, reaching over to pick up my beer again. “I mean if you’re gonna blush at the mere mention of me rubbing my dick, you’ll have a heart attack at the sort of stuff we got up to!”
“I’m sorry,” my dad said. “You know what I’m like about masturbation… I’m just a bit old fashioned, I guess. Blame your grandma.”
“It’s okay,” I grinned, and then took another long swig from my glass.
“I’m actually not so hung up about sexual stuff as I once was,” he went on. “A year ago I’d have curled up and died with embarrassment at the thought of having a conversation like this with you, but… you know… things have moved on a lot for me since then.”
“Are you sure you wanna hear about the two of us guys though?”
He smiled. “You know what happened during my first time with a member of my own gender. I’d very much appreciate hearing about yours; for comparison purposes only, of course.”
‘For comparison purposes only’? Who was he trying to kid?! We both knew why he wanted to hear this and how much his dick would be growing in his trousers as I told him. Why does he always try to dress things up?
I glanced over at the TV which was still on, though the sound was on mute. It looked like some American show was on but it wasn’t one I knew.
I decided to exploit my dad’s interest for my own gain.
“You know, I actually don’t know much about what went on in that hotel,” I pointed out with a smirk. I knew vaguely what had happened between him and Guy Leeson – that it had involved a lot of whiskey and a certain amount of uncharacteristic spontaneity on the part of my dad – but not the details. Now was the perfect opportunity to find out.
“Well, to cut a long story short,” my dad began, “Guy hadn’t had a woman in a while. He was quite flagrantly aroused and asked me to… you know… help him out. Eventually I agreed that he could… er… make use of my mouth.”
“You gave him a blowjob,” I said, cutting to the chase.
Dad smiled over at me, his cheeks flushing pink. “That’s a less elegant way of putting it, yes.”
My dad, with all his prim and proper ways, had ended up going down on my friend’s dad’s cock! Him on his knees sucking off a horny plumber!
I suppressed a smile and asked, “And then what?”
He canlı bahis took a drink from his wine. I could see this was difficult for him but as he clearly wanted to know about my own first time (for comparison purposes only, of course), it was only fair that he dished the dirt on his own.
“Well, in spite of the fact that my only sexual experiences up until that point had been with women – your mother, mainly – I found that I really liked the smell and taste of Guys’ testicles.”
He blushed a little redder at how personal that revelation was and I smiled with as much encouragement as I could to compel him to continue.
“I kept sniffing them and licking them, and I found my face moving lower between his legs, working my way behind his balls into the rather wonderfully odorous crevice right behind them.”
I chuckled at his language: I too loved licking other guys down there but I would never have thought of saying that any of them had a ‘wonderfully odorous crevice’ lurking just behind their nads.
“I kept pushing deeper between his legs,” my dad went on, “until I had my nose and mouth level with his… well…”
“Arsehole?” I suggested.
“Yes, that’s the one,” he agreed with a slight look of disapproval. “And to my amazement, I was fascinated by it – the smell, the taste, the whole sensation of having my face back there on another man’s most private, and alluringly hairy, place.”
“So you enjoyed it?” I asked.
“Let’s just say that within a very short space of time, Guy had an arc of stickiness reaching from the back of his head all the way down to his bum.”
“And I’m guessing the headboard of the bed ended up similarly covered by him?”
He chuckled. “No, not really. To be brutally honest, most of his ended up down my throat.”
“Oh, nice one!” I laughed. “Waste not, want not, eh?”
He smiled back at me. “I’ve taught you well.”
“You have indeed!”
My old man gulping down my mate’s dad’s jizm! Now that was something you didn’t hear about every day.
He took another sip of his wine, now more amused than embarrassed, before going on, “Come on, then, Jake. Let’s hear about your first time. I’ve told you mine so it’s only fair…”
I nodded. “Okay.” And I thought back to what had happened that night.
Except that wasn’t my first time: well, not really.
It was my first time at going the whole way with another lad, granted, but it wasn’t my first gay experience: that had happened a year or so earlier.
My very first gay experience – proper gay experience – was when I’d wanked off with a mate of mine called Craig in his bedroom on the way home from college and things had gone a bit further than I’d expected. To be totally honest, I’d wanked off with a few other lads before then but it had never been anything serious and most of the time we hadn’t even touched each other. It was pretty much like taking a piss at the urinals standing next to a mate – we were both just relieving ourselves and happened to be doing it at the same time.
With Craig it had been different: I’d known that it would be when he’d invited me to his house when we’d been walking home that afternoon. He was as camp as fuck – I mean, everyone called him ‘Queer Craig’ – and I’d pretty much figured out what the score was when he’d suggested we could “listen to some music” and had added, with a funny sort of smile that I’d figured must be a gay thing, that his mum was having to work late.
He was out to get up to some crump with me – that much seemed smack-in-the-face obvious – but I went along with him, partly because he’d been a friend since primary school but mainly because, well, I was a bit curious, I suppose.
I’d always felt slightly protective towards Craig, the two of us went so far back. Other lads would always be dicking with him for being different from the rest of the sheep, but that would make Craig just play up to his image all the more. I once had words with him about something he was wearing – a stripy yellow vest and three-quarter length jeans which made him look, at least to me, like a screaming queen. I’d said, “Come on, mate, you can’t wear those. Everyone’ll take the piss and stuff,” and he’d turned to me with a smirk and said with total sincerity, “You know what, Jake – I couldn’t give a fuck.”
Anyway, when we’d gone up to his bedroom, he closed the door and I’d sat on his bed, scrolling through the tracks on his MP3 player while he farted about with his computer. Pretty soon he was showing me some porn he’d downloaded – all straight, but it was kind of noticeable that the dudes were all majorly well-hung – and when I’d made it clear how much I was enjoying it – the chicks, that is – he suggested that we get our knobs out beat ourselves off together over it. It struck me as a bit unusual for him to propose we should wank off together but not so far out of the ordinary as to seem outright gay. I’d made out like I was reluctantly agreeing to whack my dick off with him just because it was something to do and – you know, let’s face it – I was so bahis siteleri fucking bored.
In truth, I enjoyed showing myself off to other guys. I liked to flash my big fuck-stick to the rest of the team after football training and would quite often get a hard-on just to show them how massive it is. Once, while I was really laying it on and some of them filming me on their phones, I’d proven that I could lean forwards enough to get my mouth around my own humongous bell-end. I couldn’t believe how hot it felt to suck my own dick with them all laughing and cheering and pointing their phones at me. I’d got so well into it, thrusting my cock in and out of my mouth and showing them how I was feeding on my own precum, that I’d realised way too late that my balls were about to let loose. So, yeah, there’s these videos which do the rounds from time to time, with me nutting off as I suck my own cock; my face suddenly turning serious and my cheeks going bright red as I had to swallow really fast to keep up with the torrent of spunk that I was so not expecting.
As Craig’s taste in porn showed that he enjoyed the sight of a massive bone-on, I wanted to give him a look of mine in all its twelve-inch glory to see how horny I could make him. My cock wasn’t just long, it was really thick as well: the shaft was about seven inches around according to my well-used ruler. As soon as I yanked my boxers down, I could tell from his face that I didn’t disappoint: his eyes almost popped out of his head when my gigantic horse-dick sprang forwards like some weird third limb.
A teacher at school had once jokingly called me ‘Jake the Peg with the Extra Leg’ in the changing rooms after football. I think it was from an old TV show but I’ve never been arsed enough to look it up.
We’d climbed on his bed, face-to-face, with our trousers hitched down and our underwear around our knees. Craig’s cock had poked upwards, small and thin, with a bright red mushroom on the end of it which looked almost nastily slimy. His bollocks hung down between his hairless thighs, his scrotum sagging and wrinkled and reminding me of an old lady’s neck.
As you can probably tell, I wasn’t really into other dudes’ junk back then.
Anyway, we’d grinned at each other and started wanking ourselves off to one of the movies he had on his computer. It was actually quite cool cracking one off with a mate I’d known since we’d been kids: we’d played Hide and Seek and stuff as little boys and now we were playing far more enjoyable games as much bigger boys.
It turned out that the movie was a lot tamer than I was used to but I found myself becoming increasingly turned on by the way Craig was focussing on me all the time instead of looking at the screen. He seemed fascinated by my huge pair of knackers: he kept laughing at how much bigger they were than his and the way they jiggled around between my legs to the rhythm of my fist. I made a play of parading them for him – they were like an over-ripe pair of plums in comparison with his grape-sized nuts – and thrust my hips back and forth to make them swing around like a pendulum as I swept my hand up and down my stiffening dick.
As he wanked his tiny cock, still staring at my much larger version, he reached underneath himself with his left hand and rubbed behind his own bobbing ball-sack.
“What are you doing?” I asked and he smiled at my question.
“Don’t you do this too?” he asked back. “It feels really good. It’s called your ‘taint’ and it’s nice to rub your fingers up and down it while you’re wanking off.”
“Why’s it called your taint?” I asked, not really believing him. He’d always just make stuff up like that, ever since we’d been kids.
“Cos ‘t ain’t your balls and ‘t ain’t your arsehole!” he laughed.
I laughed back and reached underneath myself with my left hand. I rubbed the hairy ridge between the back of my jiggling bollocks and the puckered entrance behind it, and found that, as Craig had said, the sensation was extremely pleasant.
I beamed at him, enjoying being coached; it seemed I could learn some useful stuff from this guy. If he was gay – and I was, by now, becoming certain that he was – he’d clearly found out things about the male body that I had no idea of. Gay guys had their uses – I’d made a mental note to remember that.
We kept wanking together, my eyes half on his computer screen but his firmly fixed on my cock as I pumped it. I soon realised that he was reaching even further under himself and that both his hands were moving rhythmically; one on his cock, the other between his legs.
He gapsed, “Oh God, yeah!” – the way he said it sounded so effeminate that I nearly laughed – and I asked him, again, what he was doing.
“I’m fingering myself,” he declared with a mischievous smirk.
I must have just looked at him blankly because he grinned more broadly and explained: “I’m fingering my butt-hole, Jake! Pushing my middle finger in and out of my arse!”
I think I must have grinned back at him. “Really?”
“Yeah, and it feels really hot!”
I bahis şirketleri looked down at his hand, pushing deep between his legs. He was working it in and out of himself in time with the pumping of his right hand on his cock. It was like watching a girl frig herself, but the cock out front made it weirdly clear that this was another lad and I could already smell that it wasn’t a pussy he had his finger knuckle-deep in.
“Don’t you ever do this when you wank?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I’ve never really thought about it. Isn’t it a bit… you know… skanky?”
“Kind of… yeah… but it feels amazing!” he revealed, before adding, “Your finger needs to be wet though, otherwise it hurts a bit.”
He pulled his hand out from between his legs, raised his bum-streaked finger up to be copiously spat on and then returned it back underneath his balls to resume pleasuring himself.
I sniffed the air as his finger took up its rhythm again, now with a much louder slurping noise, between his legs.
“It smells a bit whiffy, Craig,” I told him. “Is it always like that?”
“Yeah,” he grinned. “I think you kind of come to like it, though. It’s a raunchy smell… it can be quite sexy sometimes.”
I threw him a disbelieving look, continuing to wank myself, as I sniffed the air again. “How can a smell like that be sexy, Craig? What sort of sex can produce a smell like that?”
“I dunno,” he shrugged. Then he added, as if the thought had just occurred to him: “Maybe it’s the smell you’d get if two guys were… you know… doing it together…”
“Doing what together?” I asked, still wanking myself.
“I dunno,” he repeated. “Maybe… butt-fucking!”
He said ‘butt-fucking’ with a deliberate emphasis: in spite of him feigning inexperience, this was something he’d thought intently about.
I smiled at him. “You reckon?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Stands to reason. Same cause and effect.”
We kept wanking together – my hand was starting to slide more quickly up and down my long, thick shaft – as I sniffed at the air inquisitively, starting to enjoy the intensifying odour of what Craig was doing to himself behind his nut-sack. The smell he was making was quite pungent but had an undeniably erotic component; knowing the orifice that it came from seemed, absurdly, to fuel rather than stifle the growing intrigue I was feeling.
Craig stared at me, a slight smile on his face, as his left hand pumped back and forth more vigorously between his legs. The sounds from his hole had grown much louder and moister: they sounded nasty but I liked them – as he’d pointed out, they were the fascinating sounds of a fellow male being fucked.
I was wondering if he was imagining that it was my cock inside him; whether he was using the feel of his finger to fantasize about having me work my much wider girth in and out of his hot, slimy bum. For some reason, the idea of that was making my boner get fully hard and I jacked myself as fast as I could, sniffing the air again to enjoy how it would smell if I really were fucking my friend’s arse.
“Okay… so it is quite a horny smell,” I admitted at length, my rapidly pounding fist making any other claim seem futile. “I’m starting to see why you like it.”
“The smell’s only part of it,” he said. “It’s the feel of it that’s the best. Having a finger sliding in and out of you while you’re wanking… it’s fucking immense, Jake! You gotta try it!”
I shook my head and pulled a face. “It sounds heinous, man! I’m not shoving my finger up my butt! I don’t wanna feel that!”
We wanked together for a little longer, with Craig’s left hand driving back and forth underneath his balls to finger himself more quickly, noisily and – and to my rising interest – odorously.
At length, he plucked up the nerve to ask me: “Do you want me to do it for you?”
“Do what?” I asked, staring at his hand as it worked away between his thighs.
“Finger your butt.”
Before I could reply he quickly added, “I mean, I totally get that you wouldn’t want to do it to yourself.”
He stared at my face, as if scanning for a sign that I might be about to go bat-shit at his suggestion. He seemed relieved when my only reaction was to laugh.
“You’d actually do that, Craig? Wouldn’t it be, like, really grim to shove your finger up another guy’s arse?”
He smiled conspiratorially. “To be honest, mate, I think I’d quite like it.”
Yeah I bet you fucking would, I thought. I knew you were gay; I’ve thought it for years.
Craig’s sexuality didn’t bother me – just because he was gay didn’t mean I was, even if we were messing around together like this. I felt turned on that I was turning him on, if that makes sense, and I liked it that he was probably fantasising about bending over for me to shove my cock up his butt. I didn’t want to fuck him, but it excited me to think that he might want me to.
“So do you want me to finger to you?” he persisted. “Show you what it’s like?”
I smirked at him naughtily. I thought I did.
I lifted my large, heavy scrotum upwards to give him access to the hot, dank crack behind them and pushed my hips out towards him. I chuckled at the eagerness of his expression and said, “Go on, then, Craig, wank my arse off!”
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