DILF-Kabob
Seb and Hector are Whyte Yote
Naonao is Himself
Art by WFA
"What's his name, again?" Sebastién asked while dropping another basket of French fries into the hot oil, keeping as far away as possible. "I'm gonna smell like a short-order cook for a week."
From the living room came Hector's voice. "Naonao, Dad. Is it really that hard to remember? Two syllables, and they sound exactly the same."
"Don't give me lip. I'm older than you. We forget things. Fffff, God dammit!"
"What?"
"Splatter on my paw; I'm okay." He let the fryer do its thing and turned to the stove to stir the pot of gravy that had begun to bubble. "Are you set up in there yet? When is he due to arrive?"
"Anytime," Hector said as he stepped around the corner and clicked into the kitchen. "Right now is fashionably late, still. Perfectly acceptable." Claws clicked softly on the tile.
"Don't come up behind me, son." Even so, paws wrapped around his waist under the apron and clasped at his navel. His ear received a nibble and a healthy dose of tongue. He couldn't not chub up a little. Damn kid. "Do you really think he's up for fooling around?"
Hector cupped Sebastién's belly, teasing at the band of his jock strap. Under his tail nestled a very familiar hardness. Why was he pouring it on so thick, so early? "He flew in all the way from Paris, Dad. I wanted to show him how Québec isn't all that different from France."
"Language of love, eh?"
"Language of fucking, actually. But yeah. Besides...fucking POUTINE!" One paw left his groin and snatched a few curds off the counter.
"I'll take your word for it. You're the one who suggested an underwear party. Who am I to deny you?"
Hector went back to jerking the older coyolf's sheath through the mesh. "You're such a deadbeat dad. Refusing to take charge and parent."
"Why does that talk get me hard?" Sebastién sighed, and kept stirring the gravy.
***
"Bonjour, Hector!" was about all Naonao got out before he realized the coyolf standing at the door was not only almost nude, but practically poking out the front of his boxer briefs. "You...weren't kidding about the underwear party."
"We don't kid around," Hector smiled, standing aside. "Come on in. Dad's finishing up the food. Hope you're hungry. And get your clothes off. House rule."
After Naonao had stripped to his skivvies, Hector showed the bulf around the single-story bungalow, dropping his bags in the guest bedroom while hinting he might never see the bed in there. The guest ensuite was nothing to sneeze at, but the master--with its jetted soaker tub and shower big enough for a baseball team--put anything he'd seen to shame. The bathroom did, however, lack a bidet.
"Dad should be done cooking by now, I think. Time to introduce you," said Hector. Naonao enjoyed the view all the way to the kitchen, where he had twice the ass to ogle. As they came up from behind, the coyolf whispered, "Don't make too much noise, or he'll turn around. Stare all you want." Shortly thereafter, Hector snuck a paw into his boxers. "Sorry, I couldn't wait."
"I'm not complaining." And then, in a whisper: "I want in there."
"Oh, you will be."
After the bulf had fluffed to a respectable size, Hector cleared his throat and Sebastién plated the last basket of fried before turning around. "You must be my son's friend. Thenthen?"
An awkward silence ensued, exacerbated by the semi-boners in the room.
"I don't understand," said Naonao.
"It's English. And my dad. Don't worry about it. He tried to make a joke."
"And utterly failed, apparently," Sebastién admitted, shrugging off the apron to reveal a purple jock that left little to the imagination aside from ripping it off. "Here, have some poutine."
***
"This Netflix thing is nifty, you guys," Naonao said through a mouthful of delicious, savory heart-attack-inducing poutine. "We don't have it where I am. Maybe someday."
The bulf rested his bulk against the back of the couch in the living room next to Hector, who flipped through menu after menu of shows and movies. Sebastién reclined in his Dad Chair, as he called it, packing tobacco into his pipe.
"Every once in a while we have a free day, and we marathon through the stuff on our DVR," Hector said. "I do my shows when Dad's not here, and save what we both like for later."
"It wouldn't take so long if you'd keep your paws to yourself," muttered Sebastién. Striking a match, he set it to the pipe's bowl and drew in a healthy puff. Soon the room smelled sweet and mild, the glow of the television in his glasses hiding his eyes.
"You complaining, old man?"
Twinkle. "Never said I was. Just stating a fact. Now, what are we watching? Something sci-fi, you said, Hector?"
"Hoping so," the coyolf said, and scrolled down the menu. _Alien_appeared first.
"Now, there's a classic." Sebastién pointed at the screen.
Hector looked over at Naonao.
"Well, I am a guest...but honestly I never got into it." He shifted uneasily, but the younger coyolf just smiled.
"Moving on." Dr. Who had almost passed by when the bulf hopped up and down.
"Ooh! Ooh! Maybe?"
Sebastién took out his pipe and slid a Pringle between his lips, crunching it ever so slowly. "A mysterious man rides around in a phone booth, chased by robots." He gave the other two a withering stare. "You do want me to eventually have a boner, right?"
"Not necessarily," mumbled Hector.
"What was that?"
"Moving on!"
***
They had finally agreed on some MST3K, a show that Hector raved over, Naonao agreed to try, and Sebastién remained ambivalent but warmed up to the longer he watched. None could remember the title of the awful C-movie, and it didn't matter: they spent too much time laughing to care.
About a third of the way through, Hector slid his paw over and held it on one of the bulf's meaty thighs. Naonao was surprised it took him as long. He stretched his arms high above his head, using the move to spread his legs. Across the room, Sebastién watched the show, apparently not noticing. Not that Hector was trying very hard to be surreptitious. After a few minutes of slowly creeping up the shorts, the coyolf had a big blue erection between his fingers, stroking the sheath down over the knot. As a show of solidarity, Naonao reached back and grasped Hector's length, which had unsheathed itself already.
Neither one spoke because they didn't have to. Hector scooted a little closer so that he could palm the bulf's balls, and the movement got Sebastién's attention. Hunching into the son's grip, he cast a glance toward the father, who thought nothing of pushing his jock under his balls and openly squeezing himself. Ringlets of smoke hovered about his head.
"I think it's about time we screwed the movie so we can screw Dad."
"Music to my ears."
"Let's go." Hector was first to stand, and Naonao followed quickly after. Sebastién lay back in his recliner, his brow furrowed as the canines loomed over him.
"I was watching that," he said. Whether he referred to the television or the couch action didn't matter.
Hector grabbed for the purple jock and pulled. "You'd better get rid of that. You'll stain it."
"Oh, is this two-on-one then?" Sebastién seemed unimpressed, as if he'd expected this to happen. "I thought we agreed to spitroast Mr. Wolf-With-Horns here."
"Yeah, well," Hector began, lifting his father's legs to rid him of the meddlesome fabric, "we had a little tête-à-tête while we were watching you in the kitchen, and...well...we're gonna take turns on your ass." He stepped out of his undies, and Naonao slid his orange boxers to the floor so as not to feel out of place. He couldn't help a little bull rumble as he eyed the tight black hole so easily accessible in the chair. All he had to do was straddle it a little.
Sebastién L'Hounque looked from cock to cock, puffed out another cloud of sweet, and said, "I can't very well resist when I'm already on my back, can I?"
His son took the pipe and put it between his teeth. "I dong't schthink scho. Naonao, put schome drool on that hole and help me out here."
The bulf straddled the chair's footrest, pressed Sebastién's legs to his chest and pawed around until he got up a good bit of saliva. His aim was true, and he thumbed it in.
"Yup, that's about all it takes nowa--MMMPH." The rest of his sentence suddenly became full of cock.
"Don't worry about the glasses, Dad, my paws are right here," Hector said as he steered Sebastién's head.
Naonao fingered behind Mr. L'Hounque's knot and gathered a decent palm of pre, adding it to the spit-shined tailhole. His thumb did, indeed, slide right in. And so would the rest of him. He lined up and sealed his end of the spit.