Just Lie My Dad

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.