Up At the Crack

"So did you finger yourself more deeply?" Edward asked, sprawled out across his pillows with his cock now back to half-mast from my story. "Or were you worried that Jake would smell it when he woke up?"

"I wasn't worried about that," I replied. "Jake makes no secret about the fact that he fingers himself when he masturbates."

"Really?" Edward grinned. "I've got to meet your kid sometime!"

"He's very open about such things," I smiled. "Not only does he rarely close his bedroom door these days, but one morning when I went to wake him up and mentioned how bad his room stank, he actually told me with a cheeky grin that it was because he'd just finished doing a 'two-hander'."

"A two-hander?"

"I realised that the smell was the sort of shitty-spunky smell you often get after a rough bout of anal sex. So I figured out he meant he'd had a two-handed wank with one hand pulling his dick and the other working his arsehole."

"Oh nice," Edward laughed. "Just what you want to hear from your son first thing in the morning!"

"It could have been worse," I shrugged. "I could have gone in to wake him ten minutes earlier when he'd been at it full-kilter!"

Edward grimaced like it would be such a disgusting thing to see, but I noticed that the thought of it made his cock lengthen by a couple of inches and stiffen up so much the shaft of it moved upwards against his belly.

"Right, so fingering yourself wasn't doing it for you," he prompted me. "What did you do then?"

"Well, just like you said earlier, I realised I'd grown bored with my own scent all the times I'd used it as a masturbatory aid."

"Okay..." he smirked, intrigued by where this was heading.

At first I just continued to jerk off, imagining me and the two hotel employees going at it on the reception desk. I'd let the lad fuck the girl and lick his butt-crack as he did so, then I'd stand up behind him and work my cock up his spit-moistened hairy pink hole.

All the time, though, I kept wishing I had something to spur me on. It's fun to fantasise about screwing a guy's arse - especially one so ripe and round that had been straining in the back of that young lad's trousers - but I just wasn't feeling excited enough to reach my climax.

At home I would have sought inspiration from the internet to help propel me towards my goal. The sight of one man rimming another never fails to arouse me and the sounds made by two men panting and gasping as they unite in anal sex together has pushed me towards many a self-induced orgasm.

Here, though, I had nothing to help me: even my own sexual smells seemed woefully inadequate. I needed something less predictable than the smell of my own bum to help arouse me as I imagined butt-fucking the boy; something with a harsher, rougher kick to it and something both my nose and my erection would find new and exciting.

That's when my attention returned to the seat of Jake's boxer briefs.

I knew he was whiffy back there: I'd already told Edward about the strong odour of my son's dirty laundry. I suddenly wanted to smell that same butt-stink full-on. Not to think of it as Jake's or to fantasise about my son directly: just to use the pungent scent of his sweaty, ripe crack to help me fantasise about what I wanted to do to the hot young lad I'd seen behind reception.

It didn't seem so wrong to me that morning. I needed help wanking off and here was something that would fit the bill. I wasn't going to be thinking sexually about my son - just using his underwear to hasten my orgasm - so it didn't seem in any way immoral or inappropriate or whatever.

"I mean, if he'd chucked his underwear in his rucksack," I told Edward, "and had slept in something else, I'd have just fished them out and had a smell of them while I was lying on my bed."

"Just like I do with Ash's," Edward nodded. "No difference really."

"Except this pair was still on Jake's body - he was sleeping in them."

"Still not much difference."

"There was the way I did it... what I went on to do..."

"Oh," he smiled as his cock thickened to full size. "I'd kind of assumed you weren't just going to make do with a quick sniff."

"Can I just repeat this has to remain completely between the two of us," I insisted. "Jake can't ever know what I did that morning."

"Absolutely," Edward agreed, glancing again at the clock.

"Look," he went on, "time's moving on. Carol's going to be wondering where I am."

"Okay," I nodded, thinking he wanted to get up and get dressed.

"Can I fuck you while you tell me the rest of the story?" he asked. "I mean, I really want to hear it, but I want another shag too."

I chuckled. "Yeah, that'd be fun."

I got back on all fours and Edward positioned himself behind me. This was how he always wanted to do it: doggy-style with him behind and with his knees between mine. I thought of it as his 'prison position' because, having discovered his intense enjoyment of it late one night on his cellmate's bunk, he'd never had any desire to vary or adapt it.

"How often did you and Derek do it?" I'd once asked him when we'd been at it mid-fuck.

"Every few nights," he'd grunted from behind me. "Straight after lights-out if the two of us were boned up."

"Did you do it standing up or on your bed?"

"On his bed, actually. Always on his. Him on all fours, me holding onto his shoulders."

"Just like this," I'd said, enjoying the image of the two of them rutting together, man behind man, in the semi-darkness of the cell.

"Pretty much, except there's no knobhead screw watching us through the peep-hole, whacking himself off against the cell door."

Edward worked himself into me, immediately enjoying the sensation of having my arse clamped around his cock for the second time that afternoon, and I continued my story.

"I crept over to Jake's bed and knelt down beside it."

"You were intending just to sniff him at that point?" Edward asked, taking up a slow gentle rhythm inside me so that his balls kept pushing against the back of my own scrotum.

"Of course I was," I told him over my shoulder. "What happened afterwards was in no way planned."

"So you leaned forwards to take a whiff of his arse... what happened then?"

I hovered my nose just millimetres above the crease between his cheeks, apprehensive about inhaling the odour of my son's most private place. I knew from the dirty boxers which would tumble out of his laundry bag that he wasn't the world's most attentive wiper, and I was concerned that the smell of the back of his shorts as he lay there on the hotel bed might actually disgust me. Jake could, after all, proudly emerge from our bathroom leaving behind a stink that could make a pig wince, and some of the farts that he finds so hilarious to trumpet out at full volume, can have me retching in horror.

His dirty laundry had never had that effect on me, though. I'd described it to Edward as 'vulgar' but I admit I had also found it interesting. I'd never gone so far as to sniff his shorts and masturbate, as he had with Ashley's, but that's not to say I hadn't appreciated how different my son's odour is from my own nor that part of me hadn't been somewhat intrigued by it.

I pressed my nose as close to his arse-crack as I dare and gently inhaled the scent his bum had infused into his underwear. The smell proved to be electrifying: exactly what I'd been so desperate to sniff. It was strong and punchy, the aromatic equivalent of tasting the most flavoursome of butts. Perhaps it was because the smell belonged to my son that made it affect me so deeply. It could be that the human nose is more sensitive to the odours of one's close relatives, or maybe Jake's scent bore traces of his mother's fragrance and subconsciously reawakened memories of the years I'd spent with my ex-wife.

Whatever the reason, I found myself instantly captivated. Here was a backside I'd lived alongside for so long, oblivious to the fascinating flavours that lurked between its cheeks.

I started masturbating quickly, my hand slamming up and down my pounding cock. I pushed my nose warily into his crack, sniffing low down where his slimy tush would be lurking among the forest beneath the blue material, pumping my hard-on as fast and hard as I could.

"What were you thinking of?" Edward asked me, his own rhythm increasing as he held onto my hips.

"Sniffing the lad in the hotel's cute butt through his trousers," I answered quickly.

"And what were you really thinking of?" he asked without missing a beat.

I thought carefully before I answered, enjoying the feel of his thick cock steadily gathering its pace inside me.

"I wasn't thinking of rimming Jake, I can guarantee that," I eventually acknowledged.

"I can believe that," he said. "I never think about doing stuff with Ash. The whole incest thing really doesn't do it for me."

"But I was very much aware that this was my son's bum smell I was sniffing," I went on. "And the fact that it was his - so similar to my own and yet so fascinatingly different - was, I admit, extremely arousing."

"That's exactly what I felt that day on the kitchen floor!" Edward proclaimed. "That's what made me whack off so fast... why Ash's skanky shorts had such a deep effect on me!"

He moved his hands up to my torso and started fucking me still faster. I could feel his pubic hair becoming damp with his sweat as his bush pounded back and forth against my buttocks, and could hear his breathing growing faster and more laboured as his exertions intensified.

"Do you miss having prison guards peering in on you when you're doing the dirty with another man?" I suddenly felt the need to ask him.

"Not likely," he grunted. "I hated having them watch me going at it behind Derek. It made me feel... I dunno... nasty... like they were getting off on seeing me using a fella's arse out of sheer desperation... having to bum another bloke 'cause I was so hard-up..."

"How did you know you were being watched?"

"The doors had a slider on them. You could hear it being pushed open and see the light from the corridor. Whenever any of the men were getting some - which was pretty much every night somewhere on our corridor - there'd be some dickhead screw outside getting off on watching them."

"Did they call stuff into you?" I asked. "Make fun of what you were doing?"

"Some of them did, yeah," he replied, with his hips starting to make loud cracking noises against my buttocks. "They'd take the piss or tell you how filthy you were being. Or laugh that you'd been reduced to doing other fellas. Or say stuff like, 'If only your wives could see the two of you now!'"

I started muttering something in reply but he cut in and added, "But one of them - a total nutjob called Fletcher - would jerk himself off against the cell door to let you know he was using your state-imposed buggery for his own gratification."

He was pumping hard and fast against me now. He always said he didn't like to talk about his time inside but if I mentioned it during sex it never failed to get him going.

"Come on then, Rob," he urged me, reaching up to pull me against him by the shoulders. "You were sniffing your kid's arse, bashing away at your prick, but from what you said before that wasn't the end of it."

"No it wasn't," I admitted, becoming breathless from the pleasure of having his huge tool thrusting so relentlessly inside me. "I wanted more... something stronger... sniffing the back of Jake's pants just wasn't enough..."

"So did you lick him out?" he asked, his bollocks slamming into my own as his cock speared frantically in and out of my splayed crevice. "Tell me, Rob... tell me you eased the back of his shorts down... that you had yourself a little sneaky taste of his sunken treasure...?"

"I was tempted to," I replied, smirking up at him over my shuddering shoulder. "I mean... you know... the idea did occur to me..."

I suppose by rights I ought to have told Edward that of course I hadn't; that the mere idea of rimming my own son was totally abhorrent to me. The trouble is, though, he knew me too well for me to try that line of defence. He was under no doubt at all how much I love to sup from the brown cup, and was well aware that I'd stick my tongue into pretty much any butthole I found in front of me no matter whose hairy arse it happened to belong to.

It has crossed my mind since that if Jake had been wearing briefs - the sort of loose-fitting underwear which would have allowed me to gently ease the rear gusset aside to expose his bristling crack - I would almost certainly have succumbed to the temptation to lean in for a sly lick of what was lurking inside. As it was, though his bum was bound up in tight boxer trunks which reached up to the small of his back and down to the tops of thighs, so I was far too fearful of waking him to risk trying to pull them down to give me the access I needed.

"What did you do, then?" Edward asked.

Before I could answer, he pushed himself upwards so that he was squatting behind me with his thighs clamped around my hips. He started driving in and out of me, his heavy knackers swinging underneath his sweaty, hairy arse-crack, with his hands hooked under my armpits so he could lever me against him.

No wonder the prison guards had enjoyed watching Edward slamming away behind his cellmate so much: with other men he liked his sex to be rough and boisterous, a fact he had made explicitly clear on our very first hook-up. At first I'd assumed that to be hangover from his time in prison, but more recently I'd wondered if it might be a reaction against his heterosexual experiences; whether his lovemaking with the women in his life tends to be more restrained and sedate.

"Come on, Rob - what did you do?" he repeated.

"Sniffing Jake's arse was turning me on so much," I panted, grabbing my own cock and wanking myself off as fast as Edward's thick chopper was pummelling me. "It was so raunchy but so... incredibly hot... I wanted more of it... I wanted my nose between his cheeks... to smell it at its strongest... up-close and full-on..."

"So what the fuck did you do?" he bellowed impatiently.

"I pressed my middle finger into the shorts he was wearing... right between his butt-cheeks... just above where his pucker would be..."

"Ah yeah... I like the sound of that..."

"I started grinding it hard into the blue material... working it deep into his hot, smelly arse crack..."

"Fuck! That's hot! So what did you do then?"

"I found his ringpiece... swollen up and raised like a mound... and rubbed my finger around it... feeling how moist and clammy it was through his shorts... "

"Oh God yeah! That is fuckin' well nice!"

He voice was breathless, his pounding now frantic.

"Then I pushed hard against it... so hard I felt it clamp around my fingertip... the tight little muscle feeling so wet with his slime..."

"So what then, Rob? Did you sniff your finger? Tell me you sniffed it!"

"Yes... I did..." I confessed.

"And what was it like?"

"It was horny but it wasn't strong enough for me... I could smell his arsehole... how rough and how nasty it was... but it wasn't doing it for me..."

"So what did you do then?" he asked, his voice growing more urgent.

"I worked my hand down the back of his shorts," I called out.

"Inside them?" he panted with rising excitement. "I mean, with your finger touching his arsehole for proper?"

"Yeah," I grinned, whacking my cock just as fast as I had in the hotel. "Working my middle finger into his crack... pushing it down through his wiry hairy stink... reaching all the way in to find his sticky brown hole..."

"Oh fuck!" Edward yelled.

He started using the entire length of his cock to rut with me: frenziedly sweeping the full curve of its shaft back and forth while digging his fingers into my shoulders to hold me firmly in place.

He always does this when he's on the home-straight. I bet Fletcher the prison guard had enjoyed this too; jerking away at his prick poking out of his uniform fly as he watched his big, tattooed detainee readying himself for another up-the-arse climax.

"I pushed the tip of my finger into him... worked it smoothly in and out... and he sort of moaned in his sleep... pushed his arse back against me... like he was enjoying the feel of it..."

"I bet he fucking was! I bet he was loving it!"

"Then I eased back out from his pants and raised my finger to my nose..."

"Oh Jesus yeah!" Edward gasped, his pelvis slapping hard and fast against my bum while his cock tirelessly bucked in and out of me like the thundering of a piston cranked up to full steam. "How did it smell, Rob? Tell me how it smelt!"

"It smelt like just what I needed, mate!" I told him as my hand bashed against my straining cock so fast that my wrist was a frantic blur of motion. "It reeked of his arse... like full-on butt-sex with a guy who doesn't wipe... the way that rimming stinks when it's really fucking seedy... but Jesus Christ... you have no idea how much it turned me on!"

"Did you cum? Did it make you nut?"

"Of course it did! I inhaled it deep while I wanked as fast as I could... then I stuck my tongue out and licked it... slurped away at my stinking middle finger with my spunk shooting across his bed..."

I felt him shuddering as his own climax quickly spread outwards from the large pair of bollocks that were swinging back and forth underneath him.

"Oh God yeah!" he cried out. "Jesus fucking Christ!"

"I wasn't thinking of it as Jake's arse... I swear to God I wasn't!" I panted, my hand clobbering my cock so fast that the huge helmet head was a throbbing, angry red.

Edward whimpered as he pounded against me, his own swollen helmet releasing squirt after squirt of his thick jizz up into my rectum.

"I wasn't thinking of rimming him!" I grunted as my balls started tingling. "I wasn't thinking of how awesome it would be to shove my cock up my own son's bum... to fuck my little Jakey... to fuck him hard and fast..."

I snorted as my fist-pounded organ started spewing my seed all over Edward's bedding. Edward kept his rhythm up inside me as I kept wanking myself, determined to drain every last squirt from my heaving knackers.

"Oh fuck!" I managed to gasp when my cock had finally finished spurting and Edward fell on top of me, pinning me flat against his mattress.

He laughed at how out of breath I was, before muttering into my ear, "Seems like that brought back a few good memories!"

"You could say that," I chuckled.

Once he'd pushed himself up off me and we were cleaning up, the way that he and Derek used to wipe themselves down in the darkness of the cell before both climbing into their separate bunks, I told him that I'd exaggerated my story for the sake of quickening our orgasms.

"Yeah, I thought it was a bit far-fetched," he said, but as he had his back to me when he said it, in the middle of wiping his dick down, I couldn't tell if he was being truthful or not.

"Like I'd actually finger my son's bum," I muttered, forcing an incredulous chuckle.

"Yeah, I know," he tittered back and turned to me with what looked like a genuine smile. "And like you'd spray your jizz all over him while he was asleep."

I smiled back, remembering the panic I'd felt as I'd hastily dabbed up all the semen I'd showered Jake with while making sure I didn't wake him. As he'd rolled over slightly, snoring gently in his sleep, I'd noticed that the front of his boxers were betraying the gratuitous thick rod of a full-blown erection. It was throbbing insistently against his stretched shorts, with the fattened head copiously soaking the flimsy material.

"Thanks for the story, Rob - even if it was a bit embellished," Edward grinned. "It made a very stimulating accompaniment to what was an extremely pleasant fuck."

"Glad to be of service," I laughed, pulling on my socks.