Because 9

Proudly erect, my hard dick bobbed in the air as I released it from my attempt to aim it at the toilet bowl. It was more interested in ejaculating than at my attempts at urination. I'd been indescribably horny since it had happened. How many times had I jacked off to the thought of it since?

I sighed, slid down to the floor and leaned against the bath. I slapped my thick cock against the palm of my hand, feeling that first trill of pleasure at knowing you're giving in to a sexual urge. Slowly, I began to stroke.

***

Hazy summer evening, and Will's mates were sat around on the patio furniture outside: they were laughing and chatting with drinks in hand, trying to decide what game to play next. A good bunch, they'd tolerated having me around them for a couple of hours before I made my excuses to give them some room for parent-free birthday party shenanigans.

Still couldn't quite believe he was eighteen now, that I had been a Dad for that long. I watched him idly through the kitchen window as I did the dishes - where I was broad, a bit stocky and very hairy, Will was tall and thin - couple of inches taller than me now. Naturally, he shared my dark brown hair, but a few weeks ago he'd bleached it white-blonde. It was cute on him, too. I'd not suit being a blonde.

I quickly cleaned up and grabbed a couple beers for myself - with a resolution to hide away upstairs in the office and give them all the run of the ground floor. Caught my reflection in the hallway mirror on the way past, and decided the moustache could use a bit of a tidy too.

So that's what I did, tidied myself up and got comfy in the office chair, watching some old sitcom on my laptop. When I heard the last of them leave, I waited a few more minutes before making my way downstairs.

There was some stumbling and shuffling coming from the kitchen, and it amused me to think drunk Will was attempting to make himself a snack. Smiling to myself, I decided to go in and give him a hand.

But what I saw was definitely not that. He'd turned the light on in the kitchen, but the adjoining dining room I was in was dark. My son was leaning heavily against the kitchen counter, trousers around his ankles, with his boxers pulled just under his balls. Will was stroking his cock with one hand, and drinking a beer with the other.

He played with it slowly, a kinda of drunk grin across his face. He didn't seem to notice me by the door as he took a sip from the bottle. It was bigger than I expected - not quite as thick as mine, but probably just as long. The head pinkish

where mine was purple. I felt my own cock twinge and stiffen. Because I was comparing it to my son's? He was stroking more rapidly now, and I decided it was probably best to interrupt - don't think he'd care to clean up the aftermath if he was drunk enough to wank in the kitchen. My cock twitched again at that, but I ignored the thought.

"Hey Will! Do you--whoa!" I was laying it on thick, so hopefully he bought it. "Maybe take it to your room now?"

He'd stopped stroking it when I came in, and flicked his gaze at me now. I was very aware of being in a room where my son had his erect cock in his hand. As that thought went through my mind, Will's eyes travelled down. The tent in my boxers had been twitching. Will exhaled in a soft, amused way. Then he wrapped his hand around his dick, and stroked ever so slowly from base to head, letting a drop of precum roll off the tip and fall to the floor. My own steel-hard cock was straining against the tight fabric constraining it.

Will shifted his weight back against the counter, took another sip of the beer, and kept to his slow jacking. I was frozen as his eyes slid between my face, the bulge in my trousers, and his own dick. The hoppy scent of beer mixed with my sweat, and the precum of Will's now drooling cock. Right now I was operating on sense alone, so I let my body decide on the next course of action.

Behind him on the counter was another bottle - this one square and full of whiskey. I leaned over him to pick it up, my sweat-damp armpits barely an inch from his face. Without hesitation, I leaned next to him, unscrewed the whiskey and took a good swig -- savouring the the warm burn for a second -- then I pulled down the zip of my fly and opened my trousers. Immediately, I flipped down the elastic of my boxers to let my cock bounce free, and the tension of it against the tight fabric had it slapping against my stomach a couple times before it settled.

I'd done it all so fast, probably to not let my mind catch up with what my body so clearly wanted. Still wasn't going to let that happen. I pushed my hard cock into the position Will was stroking his in, couldn't help but compare again. About the same length (which was eight inches) but mine was definitely a good bit thicker. I pulled my balls out of the boxers too, gave them a tug, and again saw they were hairier and heavier looking than my son's.

'My balls are heavier than my son's.'

Something in that thought made my already painfully hard cock twitch in excitement. My body took over again, and I started stroking my own dick at a pace to match Will's. He wasn't saying anything, but he wasn't running away. And he was looking at me, for sure. He increased his pace and I matched it, taking another splash of whiskey down my throat as I did. The gentle buzz in my head from that combined with the earlier beers was lowering my inhibitions.

Openly, I moaned out, "Fuck yeah, you look so hot."

He still didn't say anything, but he grinned, pressed against me, and slapped his cock against his palm. Showing off. Just like his dad.

So we were there, father and son, jacking our cocks. I wanted badly to put his hand on mine, to feel it wrapped around my shaft while I came, but I didn't want to break the spell. At that point, I needed to see my son cum.

Will was starting to grunt and paw at his dick more rapidly. I sped up my pace, precum rolling down the the shaft and making it slick.

Will was moaning and panting, and he locked eyes with me. For the first time since we'd started this he spoke, breathing out the words, "Dad, I'm gonna cum for you."

My hand jacked my cock even harder when he said it, meeting the rapid pace that his hand was rubbing his pre-cum-slick shaft. He moaned once, loudly, again.

"Fuck, dad I'm shooting!"

Fuck, it was so hot. Cum squirted from his pulsating dick, shooting out in thick ropes across the kitchen floor. The sweet-salty smell of it drove me wild. Taking another swig of whiskey, and slamming the bottle down on the counter, I started fucking my cock into both hands.

"Such a good boy for your dad." I growled out as I pumped my dick.

Will was watching as the last drops of cum dripped out of his prick. I felt the orgasm rising and made one last impulsive decision. Moving, I aimed my cock right at Will. He didn't move as I moaned into my climax. Cum rocketed out of my cock, a thick spray squirting all over my son, soaking his clothes and spattering all over his cheeks. It was the biggest load I'd shot in a long time. The last few pumps of cum dripped to the floor, mixing with Will's load.

Will wiped the cum from his cheek, and sucked it off his finger. Then he walked away.

***

My cock spurted cum all over my chest at the memory of Will tasting the load I'd shot all over him. He hadn't mentioned it at all. Hadn't brought it up, or acted differently. Still my same loving son.

I would have believed it was a dream. If, along with the rest of his laundry, he hadn't given me the cum-stained t shirt that he'd worn that night. Would he deny it if I asked? Did he want to do it again?

Could we take it any further?