My Dad's Asshole (1)
Man I love spending a nice quiet evening with my pops. Got some popcorn and a beer, a Bruce Willis movie on, mom's out for the night, and good ol' dad is butt-ass naked across my lap and I have two fingers up his asshole. The sweet life, for sure.
I slowly flex my forearm muscles and work my fingers in and out of him. It's just a centimeter or so of motion, but when I've got 'em in to the last knuckle, that's all it takes to make him groan and clench. Those big black-furred ass cheeks grab onto my fingers so nicely. Aw, he's giving my hand a hug.
I chuckle at the thought and swig from the bottle of shitty beer with my not-fingering hand. It tastes like the fucking finest of wines tonight. I roll my two fingers flat in my dad's ass, and my thumb presses on his bare taint like I'm pinching it from the inside and out. Which of course gets another grunt from him, and his whole lower body lifts up a bit, letting his testicles dangle down instead of being pressed warmly against my clothed crotch, as they had been for over an hour now. I look down and catch a glimpse of his penis waggling amusingly beneath him as well. Not fully hard, I can tell, but decently swollen. I know if I get to bothering his prostate, he'll stiffen up all the way.
"Goddammmmit Cody, lemme go now, it's been at LEAST an hour..." he half-moans while trying to resettle on my lap in a less uncomfortable position. Of course, there's no comfortable position to be had for him, which is exactly how I want it. Currently his chest is resting on the ottoman past my feet, and his knees are in the crook of the couch on either side of me so his whole ass and private area is right in perfect reach. His brushy tail quivers and shakes and waves nervously the whole time. He still isn't used to this, poor guy. A shame, cuz I'm sure wanting to get used to it for a WHILE.
"Already? Don't you wanna finish the movie though?" I shake my fingering-hand from side to side between his ass cheeks. I like vibrating him like that when he talks.
"Unh unh unhhhh I've seen this movie a uhhhhhhhhhh a million times goddamnit, I just want you outta my asshooooooole!"
I work his anus side to side for a few more seconds, then go back to a more in-and-out approach again, this time with more give. Almost an inch of slide. Out slow, then jab it back in. Makes him moan with a little hiccup with every re-thrust. Goddamn, it's better than any music, and playing my ol' dad is basically a musical instrument anyway. Sing for me, daddy-o. I'll man the controls in the rear.
"Deal was the whole movie. Lucky I'm not sticking popcorn up your shitter too." Which reminds me, actually. I schlorp my fingers out of dad's butthole, reaching the same hand across myself to the bag of greasy popcorn leaning against my thigh. As I rummage around in the bag for that perfect bundle of kernels, my arm rubs the back of Dad's own thick thighs, and his bare ass clenches, making his scrotum pull up a bit too. Guess he's already aware of how this is gonna make his butthole feel for the next couple days. I imagine him sitting in a board meeting tomorrow in his sport coat and tie, shifting uncomfortably because his anal ring is throbbing and burning dully beneath him. I imagine it, and I smile.
I find the satisfyingly perfect bunch of popcorn between my fingers and cram it all into my mouth at once, my first two double-slick digits slipping between my lips as well. I don't put on the extra butter just for the taste.
Munching happily on the slightly musky mouthful, I give Dad's right ass cheek a few affectionate squeezes, getting extra butter-oil on his fur. I hook my thumb on the inside of the cheek and open him up so I can see how his asshole's doing. Looks like I've already got it plenty puffed up, and the right side of the rim tugs away with my pull. Good, he's loosening.
I'm just about to sink my two buttery fingers back up his butthole when his clunky old cell phone starts buzzing on the pocket of his discarded pants nearby. "Phone's ringin," I tell him, not taking my eyes off the movie flickering on the luxury flatscreen. Bruce is taking aim at the bad guys and scowling. Good ol' Bruce. Bet he has a nice asshole. I'd finger it good.
Dad sighs and reaches out clumsily for his pants. Rooting through the pockets for his phone, he growls, "Can you at least stop while I answer?"
I rub my fingers around the rim of his anus to butter it up, then give the hole a pinch before sliding my index finger up in there as my answer to his question.
He clears his throat resignedly and flips open his phone. He literally still has a goddamn flip phone. "Hi, honey."
I switch to my middle finger and twist it around so I can nuzzle my fingerpad up against his prostate and give it a few gentle taps. "Just watching a hhhhhn, a movie with Cody right now. You coming home sooOOOOOn?" Just like an instrument, man. Stirring my finger all the way around his rectum in firm circles always makes him sing, no matter how much he's trying to keep it together on the phone. I swig down the rest of the flat-ish beer and watch Dad's tail thrash in front of me. The underside of it has a higher concentration of gray hairs that almost any other part of him. Some of those lighter hairs are from our husky blood (long line of mutts on my dad's side). Some of them are cuz he's 46 now.
"I fixed a pizza, honey, don't worry, we're fine." I look at the empty beer bottle and get a funny idea, tapping my thumb on Dad's taint again and then slipping my finger out of him, which makes him blow air out of his nose in frustration while Mom prattles on the phone. I switch the beer bottle to my right hand and nudge the neck of it between Dad's buttocks, the lip where I was just drinking from kissing up to the black skin of his asshole just as I've often kissed my own lips up to it.
Dad feels the cold smoothness of the bottle nuzzling his anus. His tail stiffens, his scrotum pulls upward, and he sharply rolls over onto his side on the ottoman, giving me the most Don't You Dare glare I've seen from him since I was probably a kid about to blow bubbles in my milk at the dinner table. I stare him right down and swirl the bottle, applying pressure until it pops right in him. There's nothing he can do. Mom's pestering him.
"Yes yes I heard you honey, I'll take it out before you're back, I promise." Now that his top half is turned over on his side, I have a better view of his penis. It's definitely stiffer than it was last time I checked. It's jutting out desperately, flexing in the free air with each little push I give the bottle. The whole neck is in his ass now, the wide part bumping on the bottom of his cheeks. I'm basically fucking him with it, pulling out further and further each time now.
By the time he finally gets off the phone with Mom, my other hand is between his legs kneading and tugging on his scrotum in tandem with working his butthole. He can barely strain words out as he says goodbye and love you. Poor guy.
The phone claps shut and he drops it, gasping. "You FUCKER AWWWWWWWGH..." I give the base of his sack, right where it meets his dick, a squeeze and massage. His penis is fully, miserably erect now, but completely untouched by either of us, as per the rules. It's a respectable length, girth, etc., I'm sure. Nice solid dark-grey color of skin, a little leathery from a lifetime of use. Looks good on him, if you're into that kinda thing. I really only want his asshole though.
He lays on his side like that, one arm stretched out past his head limply, for the rest of the movie. His eyes stay shut, like if he keeps them closed he can pretend it's one of those disturbing sex dreams I'm willing to bet every person on earth has had about a family member at some point. He's more vocal now, almost constantly muttering and breathing threats and curses to me while I continue working his asshole and his nuts. Pretty sure I hear him take the Lord's name in vain a few times too; I'll have to tell Mom later.
When the movie's over and the popcorn's gone except for those beady little unpopped kernels at the bottom of the bag, I pull the beer bottle out of Dad's almost visibly throbbing asshole and watch it flutter open and closed with his heavy breaths. I always love how pliable his crapper gets after a couple hours, it's like it really comes alive. Certainly feels nice and warm and rubbery when I give it a pass with the pad of my thumb.
Dad mumbles feebly, "You better not do that to me ever again. If that glass breaks in my asshole I'm dead."
I snort and rummage in the popcorn bag. He shuts up after I feed a few of those unpopped kernels up his butthole and finger them in deep.