Everything Changes at 21 Pt. 01

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 surprisingly 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 aggressively 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.