Editor's Note: this story contains Gay Male content.
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If I hadn't watched my son getting ready to go out for the night on his twenty-first birthday, I don't think I'd have screwed things up so badly later when he returned home in the small hours so drunk that he could hardly walk.
As soon as I saw him fall head-first out of the taxi and then lurch unsteadily into my neighbour's hedge, I surprised myself by feeling a rush of opportunistic excitement. Even while I was picking him up and helping him into our house, I'd already decided I'd undress him fully before putting him to bed. After all, in his barely-conscious state I could sneak a more leisurely look at the intriguingly swollen arsehole he'd flashed me just hours earlier.
From the glance I'd had of it, nestling snugly between his squat buttocks while he'd been pulling on a pair of bright orange boxers, it had startled me by how raised and puffy its once-insubstantial sphincter had grown. It's oval shape and reddened flange had instantly brought to mind his mother's pussy, and while he'd been out and I'd been downing three or four glasses of wine, I'd repeatedly found myself musing on how curiously enticing my son's ripened anus had become.
He hooks up with guys at uni: he makes no secret of that fact. He has a girlfriend who he professes to be in love with, but at the same time enjoys bending over for other young men who aren't too fussy about whose hole they're sliding their cocks into. He refers to himself as 'outwardly straight but discreetly bisexual' and now it would appear that his enjoyment of entertaining horny boys in his bedroom has stretched and bloated his backdoor to produce in it a fulsome, almost womanly, shape.
I managed to get my drunken son upstairs on only the third attempt and, having made a stop-off in the bathroom to make sure he didn't want to piss or throw up, we floundered into his bedroom and I laid him down on his bed.
"The fuckin' ceiling won't stop," he chuckled and I told him to close his eyes while I fetched him a bowl to put next to his bed.
What the hell had he been drinking, I wondered. His mates had no doubt been lining up shots for him down and quite probably lacing his pints too.
Once the bowl had been positioned within reaching distance, I undid his bootlaces and pulled off his sweaty sour-smelling socks. He muttered something incoherent as I hitched his t-shirt up over his head but by the time I'd undone his belt and fly and was pulling his skin-tight jeans off, he was snoring softly and his muscles were completely limp.
That gave me the confidence to gently roll him onto his stomach so I could properly inspect the muscular bum that had been fascinating me all evening.
Now that I had the time to really study it, I found that I liked it a lot. It was round and ample - not unlike a nice pair of breasts - and his two buttocks looked pert and solid filling the stretched seat of the orange boxers I'd seen him pull on just a few hours earlier.
I stroked his left buttock gently and found that it felt just as firm and sturdy as it looked. I swept my fingers all the way down it, from the small of his back to the top of his thigh and enjoyed its graceful curves and the way its gentle camber drew the fingers inwards towards the hot trench between his cheeks.
I teased his shorts out from his crack and pulled them gently apart so I could see where they'd been wedged up inside. A small patch of the material must have been pressed against my son's gaping hole because right there, in the middle and low down near the hemline of the gusset, the fabric was stained with a coffee-coloured streak.
It was just a small brown smear but I knew I should have been disgusted by it. My son's anus had been cleaved wide by a succession of frantically pounded cocks and while he'd been out for the evening, laughing at the bar and joking around with his mates, his big puckered bumhole had been dribbling its sticky goo onto the back of his orange underpants.
But I wasn't disgusted: I was utterly enthralled.
I stared at it, mesmerized by the sight of the male equivalent of vaginal discharge. The boy version was so much darker and enticingly chocolatey and all at once I had the urge to lean down and sniff it.
At first I managed to restrain myself. This was Jake's butt and I knew full well what a young lad's dank hairy arsehole was likely to smell like.
And yet... maybe this one didn't smell like that at all. When I'd seen it earlier it had looked so much like a pussy that it seemed possible - unlikely but not entirely absurd - that it had taken on a feminine odour too. And then I wondered if perhaps he might perfume it to make it more appealing to his bisexual buddies, or whether he uses a gel or lotion that removes the stark evidence of its more bodily function.
The nagging urge to find out grew within me until it was irresistible. I said his name to check that he was still flaked out and then, when he didn't so much as murmur in response, lowered my face to the back of his shorts and pressed my nose up against the dirty streak that had oozed from his loosened fuck-hole.
My son's anus might have been vaginal in its appearance but it certainly wasn't in its smell! There was nothing feminine about the stink he'd left on the back of his boxers. It was uncompromisingly harsh and masculine: wincingly fierce and brazenly faecal.
And yet I found to my surprise that I rather liked it.
Girls' pink openings have their own subtle sexy fragrances, and boys' brown openings - while producing a cruder stench that was in no way subtle - could be just as sexy in their own far more assertive way.
I inhaled it more deeply, pushing my nose between my son's two prominently buxom cheeks, and felt my own cock stirring at the sheer pungence of this most private odour. I craned further down right into his crack and inhaled eagerly right where his swollen bumhole was. The air inside here was richly infused with the delicious feculence of his arsehole: I snorted hungrily at the hot, moist vapour as I revelled in its eye-watering and yet peculiarly compelling stink.
Then I pulled out and gasped for breath as I considered what I wanted to do next.
I decided I'd follow plan A and strip him naked before throwing the spare duvet over him and going to bed myself. I'd take a good look at his bulging pucker to see if it really did look as round and ripe as the part of his mum I'd used to make him, and then I'd leave him to sleep, patting his shoulder affectionately as if to persuade myself that this had merely been a bit of father-son horseplay.
As emboldened as I was from the wine I'd downed (let's face it, there's no way I would be doing this if I wasn't half-drunk), I thought it wise to check that my son really was unconscious before I went the whole way and stripped him stark naked. After a few pokes to satisfy myself that he was now deeply asleep, I grabbed both sides of the waistband and gently slid his cotton boxers down his strong, hairy legs.
If he asked next morning why I'd taken off his shorts, I'd say it was so he could easily take a pee into the bowl if he was still too drunk to get up in the night.
Once I'd managed to hitch his underwear over his two enormous feet, I leaned back to admire his bare backside in all its smooth, voluptuous magnificence.
As men's bums go, I've got to say that Jake has one of the most aesthetically-pleasing examples that I've ever seen. It looks simply exquisite when he flaunts it in his tight-fitting underwear and now that it was right front of me exposed in the flesh, I had to admit it was even better. Its two flawless cheeks were round and full, but the squat shape and brawny athleticism of its build made the overall effect unmistakably masculine.
After again checking that his eyes were closed, I carefully parted his cheeks with a finger and thumb and leaned in to peer at his over-sized opening.
My God, it really did look like a pussy! It was so swollen and succulent... so much like his mother's!
I squeezed my thickening shaft through my trousers as I remembered pulling down his mum's panties for the first time. How deliciously fragile her ruffled lips had felt when I'd licked up between her legs. And how much her taste inside had dumbfounded me, making me pant with an excitement that I hadn't known was possible.
My cock was now pressing hard and insistent against my trouser pocket. I rubbed it gently through the material, my left hand sliding back and forth along its rod-like length, as I saw my ex-wife's curves and folds mirrored so seductively in my son's well-fucked arsehole.
Why was I finding this so utterly fascinating? Why was it making my mouth water and my cock leak its juice into my briefs?
