Like Father Like Son Ch. 01

"I mean, I don't want to interrupt you guys," Jake went on with continued amusement, "but it seems, dad, while you're doing what you're doing, Bradley here might be getting a bit thirsty."

Bradley laughed more loudly and thrust him bum more forcefully against the hammering of my cock, as if in excitement at what he was being offered.

Jake grabbed the front of his shorts and directed his cock forwards and outwards inside the material, making it abundantly clear – as if clarification was necessary – that he was rampantly excited and hoping to join in with us. The large helmet-shaped head of my son's erection was thrust upwards against the grey material, looking surprisingly similar in size and shape to that of my own.

"I wouldn't say no to having a slurp on something," Bradley confessed, before adding, "that is, if your dad's okay with it."

Jake was already yanking his cock out through his fly before I cut in, curtly, "Your dad's definitely not okay with it, Jake! Put it away!"

"Aw, come on dad!" Jake called out petulantly, holding the about half of what looked like a very large and impressive erection through the button fly of his shorts. His tone reminded me of when he was a little kid and was refused chocolate bars at the supermarket checkout. "He's only going to have a suck, and it's not like I'm disturbing what you're doing!"

He directed the large, wet head of his cock towards Bradley's face who licked his lips hungrily before turning to peer up at me over his shoulder. "What's the harm?" he asked.

I finally stopped my rhythm in and out of his cheeks: Jake had won – he had managed to interrupt my enjoyment.

"It'll just be a quick blowjob," Bradley persisted, as Jake yanked another few inches of his erection out through his fly. It looked enormous – far bigger than I might have expected – though I knew from experience that Bradley would have little difficulty in taking it into his mouth.

"Not necessarily quick," Jake cut in with a grin. "And not necessarily just a blowjob," he added mischievously, turning slightly and yanking his shorts down at the back enough to let Bradley know that the hairy crack of his arse was also available for his tongue to work on.

That only served to make Bradley even more insistent.

"Oh, come on, Rob!" he said, apparently unfazed by the fact we were having this discussion with my cock lodged halfway up his bum. "What harm can there be in me having a quick lick of... er... one or two things? It's not like you and him are going to do anything with each other!"

"That's not the point," I argued, feeling annoyed that Jake had put me in this position. "I don't want to be having sex while watching you orally pleasure my son, thank you very much!"

"I'm in the room, guys," Jake reminded us but I was in no mood for his frivolity.

"Put your dick away, Jake, and leave us to it!" I snapped, my voice making it clear this was not up for debate. "I'm not messing about – we don't want drinks and we don't want your cheap innuendos. Just go back to bed, please."

Jake stuffed his erection back into his shorts, muttering to himself like we were back at the supermarket till.

"You always do this," he complained, and stomped out of the room with an irritated snort. Having never been in the situation of being interrupted by him while I was in the middle of shafting another man's butt, I wasn't sure quite what he meant.

He clattered along the hallway and stormed back into his room. I expected his bedroom door to slam shut just like it had so many times in the past, but when it didn't I realised he was hoping his fun wasn't quite over yet.

"I'm sorry, mate," I said to Bradley a few minutes later, as we lay back against the headboard of the bed with our cocks looking as floppy as if we'd climaxed. "I know you were up for it, but I just couldn't – he's my son!"

"I know that, Rob, but you're always saying you'd like a threesome with me and my brother. Having Jake come in with us would be no different from that."

He was right on one point – I did often suggest that we got together for a session with his brother Garth. The guy supposedly had a cock that was long and flexible enough to work it into his own arsehole. I was even more fascinated to see how the two brothers would express their affection towards one another and was hoping something could be arranged for the three of us relatively soon.

"With Jake it would seem different," I said, struggling to think of why that was so. "I've brought him up from being a baby. When you two guys were joking around about you rimming him, you've got to remember that I used to wipe that bum when Jake was in nappies. It'd feel totally wrong for me to have him join in with our sex."

Bradley nodded. "Okay, I guess I never really thought of that way. So I accept that a threesome is out of the question. But let's say Jake and I were to get it together on our own. Would you object to that?"

"I don't know," I said, thinking the idea through. "I suppose not. As long as you were... you know... careful with him. He's only nineteen."

"He's a big boy, mate," Bradley laughed, "I think he can look after himself."

"I'm not so sure about that," I hit back. "He's just a kid, really."

It had taken us quite a while to get back into each other and resume our sex – ironically, given the supposed cause of the interruption, we'd needed a refill on our drinks to get things back on track – but once we were back into the rhythm, a secondary thumping sound from the open door along the hallway let us both know that our exertions were being enjoyed elsewhere.

Now that I was standing behind my bedroom door listening to other people's noises of sex, largely in the position Jake had found himself in a week earlier, I found myself tempted, just as he had been, to take a walk along the corridor to observe first-hand the activity which was keeping me awake.

I eased myself out through the door, taking care not to allow the hinges to creak even though I was aware that Jake was probably expecting me to follow in his footsteps and appear in the shadows of his bedroom door.

What would I say if I was seen by the two of them? I couldn't claim, as Jake had, to be en route to getting a drink from the kitchen – his bedroom was at the back of the house and in the opposite direction from the stairs. I couldn't even say I'd been popping to the toilet as that was closer to my room than it was to Jake's. I'd just have to use the trusted excuse of hearing noises and being worried that we had intruders at the rear. In some respects that was true.

I crept out into the hallway, the sounds that Jake and Marcus were making becoming clearer and louder. Jake's bedside lamp was on and a wedge of its light spilled out onto the carpet in front of his room. This was going to be more interesting than I'd hoped: I'd assumed they would be having sex in darkness and that I would see only the indistinct outlines of their bodies writhing and contorting on the bed in the faint glow from Jake's computer monitor. It seemed, though, I was in for a more explicit performance, as Jake's bed was directly opposite the door of his room and I would be able to see what they were doing in near full illumination.

I edged cautiously along the corridor between our rooms, the rhythmic sounds from Jake's bedroom becoming more distinct. The bed was creaking tortuously and the two of them were panting and gasping together.

I smiled at the sound of them. Many other men would have been mortified to have heard their son enjoying a moment of passion with one of his male friends, but I was by now feeling mostly flattered that Jake was – quite deliberately, I was sure – allowing me to witness such an intimate act. And the parts of me that weren't feeling flattered were, I have to admit, becoming increasingly turned-on. My pyjama bottoms were by now tenting upwards quite obscenely with my gathering excitement.

As I slowly inched my way down the hallway, the smell of their sex grew progressively stronger. It was a wonderfully rich aroma – laced with sweat and testosterone, but buzzing with much heavier essences straight from the hole that was being so noisily plundered. It was even more intoxicating than the scent I enjoyed when I was with a man myself: the youthful vigour of these two fit lads was enriching the far stronger smell of their sex with its own acrid kick.

It reminded me of the times I'd sniffed the back of a man's underpants after he had worn them for a whole day: earthy and pungent; bitter and effluvious. I assumed the back of Marcus' underwear packed the same acerbic punch when he pulled them off each evening: how interesting it would be to borrow a couple of discarded pairs from his rucksack and find out what secrets such a well-mannered young man was concealing in the back of his trousers.

As I paused to appreciate the gathering anal musk in the air, Jake seemed to crank up the action of his hips against his friend's buttocks and the noise from his room grew a good few decibels louder. He was desperate to be heard, of that I was sure, and he was making it as irrefutably clear as he could that the back bedroom of the house was playing host to some serious male-to-male bonding.

The smell from their activities grew, in turn, significantly stronger: whatever Jake was doing to his friend was releasing an especially piquant redolence for their solitary audience to enjoy. Perhaps his cock had started drilling even more deeply up into Marcus' bowels; or perhaps the two of them were now dripping with sweat, adding a fresh dose of male pheromones to the already potent mix that was assailing my nostrils.

I inhaled deeply, savouring the deliciously carnal bite of the air in the hallway. Surely by now, even the naive dad I had imagined while I'd been lying in my bed would be able to identify the source of the odour that was wafting from his son's room. I chuckled at the thought: what a surprise that might be for him!

I pressed on along the corridor, lowering each foot down onto the carpet as silently as I could, musing on how lucky Jake was to have found a like-minded friend as energetic as Marcus. He had a freshness about him, or so I'd thought while I'd watched him smiling politely at Guy's bawdy humour during our meal earlier that evening, which had made me suspect he'd be as horny as a buck rabbit once you got him in the mood. And it seemed that my son was more than capable of doing just that.

I had to admit, though, that even though he was my son and I was all too aware of his many shortcomings, Jake was very attractive young lad too. He had an especially masculine face – quite angular and already with a tendency to show stubble if he didn't shave daily – and his mother's dark brown eyes which expressed very vividly the emotions he would otherwise prefer to conceal. His body was more lithe than his friend's but I'd noticed on many occasions that he had a nice, firm backside which was pleasantly rounded and not entirely dissimilar from my own.

The two of them would make a stunning male couple, I speculated, as I edged along the corridor. Seeing them in flagrante was going to present a most enjoyable sight, and I homed in on the open doorway while adjusting the front of my pyjama bottoms to accommodate what must be the least wholesome aspect of my fatherly interest in my son.

Their noises continued, seeming to growing even faster and more forceful, as my toes first breached the shaft of light shining out of Jake's bedroom. Was their homosexual coupling getting still livelier, or was I just hearing their activities more clearly as I neared the doorway?

I had a sudden misgiving about proceeding further and found myself hesitating at the threshold of the illuminated doorway. My son was right there in front of me, enjoying what should be a private sexual moment with his friend, and here I was about to spy on him doing it. Was this acceptable behaviour for a middle-aged father?

Before I had time to address my unease, the sounds from Jake's room abruptly stopped. Fearing they'd heard me, I froze still outside of the doorway, hardly daring to breathe in case I revealed what I had been about to do. I wasn't too bothered about Jake knowing I was there – he, after all, had done exactly the same thing to me on many, many occasions before I'd caught him last week – but I didn't want Marcus, who was a guest in my house after all, getting the impression that I habitually sneaked around perving on what my son was getting up to in the middle of the night.

As I stood statue still in the corridor, the arch of my foot starting to cramp up from the tensed position I was holding myself in, I heard noises of the two of them repositioning themselves on the bed, mattress springs creaking as knees were pressed down into them, and then my son asked his friend in a low voice if he was okay.

"Yeah, you were just hurting a bit," Marcus replied and I heard a rasping farting noise which I realised was coming from a tube of something wet being squirted.

As whatever it was – lube, I assume – was applied to various patches of male anatomy, I heard Marcus whisper, "Are you sure this is okay, Jake? My dad would have a fit if we did this at my place."

"Don't worry," my son chuckled, "my dad is definitely no angel!"

I couldn't help but smile to myself. He was right there.

"Has he heard you having sex before?" Marcus asked quietly.

"Not like this," Jake admitted. "He saw me having a wank when we were sharing a room a few years ago, but he hasn't heard me doing stuff with someone else."

"Won't he be freaked out?" Marcus persisted. In spite of the joke Marcus had made about me acting like Guy's boyfriend, Jake hadn't been lying when he'd told me that his friend didn't know about the new-found diversity of my sexual interests.

I heard Jake laugh to himself. "Believe me, mate, he doesn't blush very easily these days."

I smiled again. Like father like son, I thought.

"But won't he think you're gay? My dad would keel over if he knew I was doing this."

"My old man knows the score, mate," Jake snorted impatiently. "Now come on, shove your arse back towards me and open your legs wider. I'm getting blue balls back here!"

"Oh, Jake, what a sensual lover you make," I thought to myself. "You're a modern-day Casanova."

There was a wet slurp as my son reoccupied the hole he'd vacated, and then the creaking of the bed started up again and the headboard resumed its beating against the wall.

Feeling relieved that I was free to move again, the sounds of my progress being masked by the rhythmic cacophony that was ensuing from my son's mattress and the two bodies on it, I allowed myself to relax and stretched my tensed-up foot against carpet beneath me. The joints inside it clicked and sounded unfeasibly loud.

I returned to the question that had occurred to me before their brief interruption: was it wrong of me to be observing my son and his young friend while they were enjoying what should be a private act together? Did the fact this was a homosexual rather than heterosexual coupling make it more or less wrong that I might be about to spy on them? On the one hand, I might take the view that what they were doing was the sexual equivalent of a pair of lads messing around together and therefore perfectly reasonable for me to glance in on with an almost amused detachment. On the other, it could be argued that the fact they were both young men made it even more inappropriate for me to watch them experiencing pleasure together: such a profound moment of intimacy was supposed to be conducted in secret and I had no place to be peering in on them like some old, salivating anorak-wearer.

Perhaps, I mused, if I were to see what they were actually doing, I would in a better position to formulate an option.

Yes, that was a very sensible approach to take.

I crept forwards along the last foot or so of the corridor until I was level with Jake's door and, staying back in the shadows of the hallway as much as I could, peered around the open doorway, squinting to allow my eyes to become accustomed to the relative brightness of the bedside lamp.

As soon as I saw them, it felt indecently wrong for me to be spying on them. They were both naked – that might sound obvious, but for some reason I'd expected their sex to be so casual that they'd be doing it in their t-shirts with their underwear hitched down – and, in spite of the open door and my suspicion that Jake was deliberately putting on a show, it suddenly seemed like I really was not intended to be looking at this. Here was my son, upright on his knees, making love to another boy who was on all fours in front of him: how utterly contemptible must I be for peeping on the two of them like some squalid pervert?

I almost pulled away in disgust at myself, but there was something about Jake – something about his face – that made me hesitate. I stared at him for several seconds, wondering what was keeping me from shuffling back to bed, when I realised what it was that was out of place.

As he stared ahead of Marcus' bent body, as he looked forwards at the posters of indie bands above the headboard of his bed, his expression didn't fit with what he was doing. He wasn't gasping in pleasure or grunting with enjoyment: he was broadly smirking and his eyes were full of mischief.

He knew his dad was watching him and he was delighting in the fact.

I had come to his doorway and taken up the position he had always intended for me.

He didn't turn to face me, nor give any discernible sign of acknowledgement. But he knew full well I was there and was in no need of confirmation.

"Ah, this feels so good, mate," my son called out as his friend grunted his agreement. He continued thrusting his hips back and forth as the long, thick shaft of his cock drove in and out of Marcus' outstretched buttocks, all the time staring ahead of himself with that deliberate smirk on his devious face.

He wanted me to see him enjoying a late night butt-fuck with his mate from university: that much was abundantly clear.

And, for all I was feeling suckered into doing what had been expected of me, I had to admit they looked spectacular together: Marcus bending forward with his fair, curly hair flopping onto the pillow, giving himself so spiritedly to my son who was kneeling upright behind him.

My son's friend looked magnificent naked: his body was beautifully sculpted and swathed with taut, naturally well-built muscles which bulged as he tensed and flexed against Jake's relentless thrusts. This was a handsome, strapping lad bent over on all fours on Jake's bed and, while my son was undeniably something of a looker himself, he should count himself very fortunate to have such an attractive friend who seemed so grateful to receive his attentions.

Such musings were interrupted by the realisation Jake wasn't wearing a condom: he and his friend obviously trusted each other completely, the way Guy and I now did and the way I was trying to persuade Bradley we should.

"How's my big cock feel screwing your arse, mate?" Jake asked, his voice slightly louder than it needed to be, suggesting the question had been posed primarily for my benefit.

Was this why he had wanted me to see him like this? To prove to me that he was a big boy now and more than capable of using adult language?

"Amazing," Marcus gasped in a more muted whisper.

My son's manhood did indeed look very large, hammering in and out from between his friend's round bum-cheeks. It had all the girth of my own and, from what I could see each time he pulled back to withdraw it, matched very closely my length. Seeing it from the side, however, made it obvious that Jake's cock had a much more conspicuous upward curve to it than mine did, a fact he exploited with the technique he was employing. His arching, sweeping motion used the full curvature of his shaft to repeatedly skewer the orifice in front of him, giving his plump cock-head a smooth, circular trajectory with every powerful thrust.