I had slept over before, but I never was the last one to fall asleep. I always nodded off fairly early, normally after having a few of the beers his dad would buy for us. One night, though, things went a little differently.
My friend's a wolf, but his family was cool about foxes coming over. His dad is, at least. Mom wasn't around and, at the time, I hadn't ever met his grandpa. Their house was your typical two-floor ranch style home, with the main floor and the basement. When we'd have sleepovers, we'd stay in the basement and hang out, watch movies, play games, the usual. The upstairs was mostly free to us, other than the back hallway, because that's where his grandpa slept. 
His grandpa was essentially nocturnal, he got that way after he retired from the old bottling factory. He'd gotten really into the internet, and would sleep most of the day then get up around 8 or 9 PM, make himself some food and then hop on the computer. He'd be online until somewhere around 7 in the morning, then he'd go back to bed. He was, like, 80 or something, so no one really wanted to challenge him on how that probably wasn't the healthiest thing to be doing. He was old, he'd taken his lumps, he earned it. 
That said, it meant we only had a small window of time right before lights out where we could grab stuff. He liked his privacy, so my friend's dad told us that once lights went out upstairs, we weren't allowed up there anymore. There was a bathroom in the basement, anyway, so once we got snacks for the end of the night we really didn't NEED to go upstairs anymore. The house was sturdy enough that we could make noise and fuck off like guys our age did, and no one would hear us. It was a great time, and we musta done it that way from when we were like 12 or 13 all the way up to when we were 19. We hung out fairly often pretty much until we got jobs and had less time to do so, and my buddy eventually got a girlfriend.
All that's irrelevant, though, that ain't the story i'm telling you. This is about the time I got too thirsty to sleep. 
My buddy'd gone heavy on the beers that night, and it was around 2 AM when I started hearing him snoring. My mouth was dry, and I'd already polished off my water. I'd tried to go to bed, but I wasn't having any luck between him snoring and how dry my mouth was. His bedroom was the classic aesthetic: a low ceiling with those cheap ceiling panels, wood walls, and red carpet. It always smelled musty down there, and he slept on his bed with me in a sleeping bag on the floor next to him. There were a few times we shared a bed, and sometimes we shared it with real specific intentions, but that ain't the story I'm telling you either. Not right now, at least.
My buddy had been really strict pressing me that we don't go upstairs after bedtime, that his grandpa was in the war and gets real fuckin' mad if you disrupt him when he's in the living room. Moreso, he didn't see or hear so good in his old age, and he startled easily. Going upstairs in the dark was a recipe for disaster, which is exactly why my heart was pounding in my chest as I crept up the red carpeted stairs toward the first floor. I couldn't fix my buddy's snoring, but I NEEDED another water. In retrospect, I could've gotten some out of the bathroom sink, but that wouldn't have made for near as interesting a story.
I turned the handle, and thankfully opened a near silent basement door out into the hallway. It was at that moment that I understood the importance of WD-40. The hallway had several doors to the right, presumably the upstairs bedroom and bathrooms, and to the left was the living area, and the front door. 
The living area, from my view, had the kitchen to the right, with a bar that separated it from the living room. To the left was the actual living area, where there was a television, computer table, a sofa and a chair. Straight ahead was a tile walkway to the front door that separated kitchen linoleum from the worn old carpet of the living room. And, there he was.
At the computer table sat an old man with large muff headphones on his ears. He did looked to be in his 80s, with gaunt features and white hair, a long bushy white beard that went down to his chest. He had thick glasses, and the blue light glowing on his body gave me a decent look at him. His cheekbones were prominent, his mouth was sunken in a way that conveyed he might wear dentures and wasn't wearing them at the time. He was in a loose, tattered t-shirt and sweatpants, and I could see that was tabbing between a chat client and scrolling some websites. He'd type something up in the chat messenger, occasionally licking his lips and and swallowing. From the blue light, I could see the loose skin of his neck clench and relax as his throat went through the motions of swallowing. He didn't seem remotely concerned about his surroundings, nor had he heard me come into the hallway.
In the quiet of the night, all I could hear was the whirring of a box fan down the hall--presumably my buddy's dad's room--and the clicking and typing. He'd occasionally wet his mouth again, and he'd occasionally cough, occasionally hack up some phlegm. He was old, after all, and men his age tended to do that. I padded slowly from the basement door to the kitchen, where I quietly posted myself up and watched. There were no night lights, so there was no light outside of the computer screen glow. I could see him, but he couldn't see me, especially not with his old eyes. I had to stand there for a moment, I was consumed with curiousity. What did this old man do all night? What was he reading online, and why was he so adamant about his privacy? My water could wait for a moment, I had questions that needed answering. 
He went about his business for a while, scrolling through some website and occasionally answering messages on chat clients. He had three separate ones pulled up, I could tell that much, but I couldn't see what they were talking about. I took a few steps forward and leaned my elbows on the kitchen bar, which offered me a little better view of him but no better view of the text. He'd go about his business, clicking and typing away, and after like ten or fifteen minutes I was really starting to get bored. THAT was putting me to sleep. That was, until, things started to go in a different direction. 
He'd lean forward in his chair, squinting at the computer screen. He did this every time he got a message on the chat clients, I guess because the text was kinda small. However, after one particular message, he gave a nod that seemed to convey contentment. Then he'd lean back in his chair, and I could see his left palm was starting to rub on the crotch of his sweatpants. He'd pause, lean forward, respond to messages, then lean back and return to groping himself. Suddenly, it all made sense. I was beginning to grasp exactly why his privacy was so important. That said, I was also now horny myself, so I continued to lean on the counter and watch. 
After a few more minutes, he would tab over to the website he was reading and type something into the searchbar, switching from whatever he'd been scrolling through to another website. I had a guess where it was going, and it wasn't but ten or so seconds later before porn was on the screen. His left hand was groping himself as before, but after the video started playing he'd let off the mouse, sliding his right hand up his shirt. He was tweaking one of his nipples, I could the bulge of his hand under the loose fabric of his shirt. He did this for about three minutes before the video ended, and he tabbed back over to the chat clients to answer messages before tabbing back and loading up another video. Much to my disappointment, they were videos of women. I wasn't surprised.
Once the second one started, though, he'd lean back in his chair again. This time, though, his hands slid down to his ass, and he pushed down the waistband of his sweatpants along with his underwear. His left hand was no longer groping fabric, but was buried in his lap, groping at his bare dick now. I couldn't see it in the blue light, but I could see it was hairy. His fingers were moving like it wasn't erect, though, which didn't surprise me. That said, despite my disappointment that he was straight, I was not at all disappointed at the show. I know it's perverse to admit, but I had full intention of standing there and watching him jerk off to climax before slinking back downstairs. 
He would begin a cycle of stimulating himself and stopping to answer messages, returning to porn and masturbating for a while before the chat clients would light up with alerts, in which he'd pause to answer them. Sometimes, I could see them light up, but he'd finish the video first. After about ten minutes of doing this, I could see his body starting to stiffen up. His breathing would grow heavier, and he'd start to cough more. Then, he'd abruptly stop, and take his hand out of his lap, returning to chat clients. Was he edging? Or was he unable to get himself off?
I turned around for a moment and looked at the clock on the oven, which was barely lit from the machine's old age. 3:12 AM. I'd been standing here watching this guy for over an hour now, which suddenly made me feel very strange. I want to say that, at that moment, I settled for going back to bed, but I didn't. Instead, I kept standing there. I wanted to see him cum. 
If you're hearing this story and asking yourself "why didn't you just offer to do it for him?", rest assured that's almost all I was thinking about. But this guy was in his 80s. He'd been in the war. He was jacking off to the most normal busty hairless women I'd ever seen, and I was a grown-ass man in a tanktop and camo pajama pants and bristly beard stubble all in my fur. I couldn't just ask if he wanted a handjob or something, he'd probably shoot me dead. 
However, I say all that as an older man looking back at my younger self. I'm smarter now than I was then, and a lot less impulsive. Younger me got too confident, and thought he could woo anyone if he played his cards right, or they were desperate enough. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. I decided I was gonna make a move to make it seem like I'd just come upstairs. I didn't wanna just approach him from behind and scare him. He was old, he might have a heart attack or something. So, while he was really in the throes of jacking off, I'd quietly walk back to the basement door. I waited for him to quiet down, and padded back across the hallway to the kitchen, walking much louder than before. However, this was unsuccessful, as those headphones seemed to really cancel noise. He didn't even notice. That was, until, I opened the fridge for water. 
The yellow light of the fridge cast a light from the kitchen to his computer area and the space near it, and he'd jump upright as his hands drew from his lap and the mouse to an alarmed position right in front of his chest. He'd hurriedly, scoot his ass up and yank his pants back up, cutting his head back as he hissed out a whispered "who th' fuck's over there!?"
I was already swigging water as the fridge shut, returning me to darkness as I whispered "sorry sir, it's me Nico, Beau's friend. I just got thirsty." I padded out of the kitchen toward the basement door when I stopped, looking at his computer screen. He was glaring right at me, visibly angry, but behind him was a still-playing video of some fake-breasted model type wolf women getting absolutely railed by some shaved-smooth muscled horse. I stared past him, directly at it, for a moment, before he realized what I was looking at and turned, hurriedly pausing the video and tabbing away while he cussed a whispered "godDAMMIT get the fuck outta here!"
Instead, though, I'd take a few steps forward toward him and whisper back "wait, shit man, she was hot as fuck. What was that video you were watchin'?" His bespectacled eyes widened with an angry confusion as his brow bunched up in the middle and pointedly asked me "what?!"
"Yeah, sorry, I know it's weird, but that bitch was fine. What's the title? I wanna watch it when I get home."
What a stupid plan that was. I was setting myself up to get my ass beat, probably. Or so I thought. His front lip curled up in a frustrated snarl as the corners of his mouth pulled back. He took in a deep inhale and sighed in a way that conveyed he was releasing anger. I was playing with fire. However, I seemed to have it under control, because he'd tab back over to the video and lean in to squint at the title, which was apparently very vulgar because he'd reply "c'mere, i ain't readin' that out loud" with a voice that was dripping with animosity for me. For all the desire I had to score with him, I was really just pissing the old man off.
However, I did close the gap between us, leaning over his shoulder and reading the title. No kidding, that title was a fuckin' porn title if i'd ever seen one. MILF, creampie, the works. I had no interest in the title or the woman, though, I was just interested in the guy tiredly jerking off to them. 
"Thanks man, gonna check that out later."
"Okay. Now get outta here."
I gave a short "alright" as I turned to leave, stopping once more and turning back around with a "wait" that prompted him to angrily yank his headphones from around his neck to holding in his hands as his head jerked to face me and spit a "WHAT?" so frustratedly I could see some foam on his lip from the way his tongue was pressing against his toothless gums.
"Sorry, sorry," I started, "I just wanted to ask, uhh..."
I paused, getting a little nervous. I was playing so fast and loose that I had no idea where to actually take this. I just wanted to see the old guy's dick, yaknow? And now, here I was trying to string together an excuse to get to do so.
"You want some help gettin' off?"
His eyes bugged out incredulously, seeming to be offended I'd even ask something so stupid. He'd return his headphones to his neck, turning back to his computer as he started to answer the messages that had been waiting while I'd been distracting him.
"No. Got all I need here." he said without looking at me.
"You sure? I wouldn't mind just tendin' to you while you watched videos. Don't even gotta look at me".
At this point, I figured i'd already completely derailed the train and made a complete idiot of myself, so there was no lower I could go. If I had nothing to lose, why not just toss my intentions out to him? He didn't answer me, but I knew he'd heard me because his headphones weren't back on his ears yet. He scooted his chair back away from the desk, but continued to type his messages. After a moment, he'd load up a video and start watching it again, returning his headphones to his ears and paying me no mind.
I stood there, confused about if I was being rejected or not. About a third of the video played, though, before he'd take his left hand and lift a headphone muff, asking angrily "well!?" before returning it to his ear. Was this my invitation? I couldn't tell, but I sure as shit didn't want to make the wrong move. I decided, though, to give it a shot, and walked toward him before getting down on my knees. He acted as if I wasn't there, busy watching that "MILF" getting "creampied" by some studly horse as I scooted my body under the computer table. I couldn't believe it was happening, but I had no time to think about my luck. I had a job to do, in service of this hard working old vet.
As I sat down with my knees splayed, he'd scoot his chair forward so that his lap slid under the computer desk again, face to face with me. The smell was stale, musky. He didn't wash these sweats very much, it seemed, and the odor of stale semen was strong amidst his masculine dick musk. His own hands scooted his pants down again, though this time he'd let them slide off entirely, stepping out of them. The clicking echoed as the keyboard thumped against the wood of the table above me, and I could now vaguely hear the audio of the porn he was watching. Not only was I closer, but he'd turned up the volume. There was a lot of theatric moaning.
The blue light illuminated him well, though, and before me was a limp, aged dick, surrounded by grey and white body hair, with a peppering of the original brown left. The head was engorged, wet with precum, but the shaft was a little skinnier than I'd expected, having lost some girth with age. It smelled strong of musk and masturbation, though, and my hand reached out and began to stimulate the shaft with my index and middle fingers and thumb. His body tensed up a bit, and he coughed, but otherwise seemed as if I wasn't there. He was so flaccid, it felt almost as if there was no chance I was going to stir this man to erection, which wouldn't have been all that surprising given his age. Still, he was watching porn and jacking off, so I assumed he was still capable of orgasm. I would use my three fingers to carefully stroke the loose skin of his organ, giving it slow kneads and pumps as I leaned closer to smell him more. He smelled so...stale, so delectable, and as I exhaled out my nose onto the tip of his dick I'd see his head throb a bit. He clearly was enjoying having someone so close to him.
I leaned forward a bit, and opened my mouth, lapping up his limp dick and letting it roll onto my tongue before I slid my head forward until my nose was buried in his pubic hair, pressed against his lower stomach. He would suck air through his nose, and I could feel his body tense up before he'd clear his throat, exhaling. He was clicking around, answering those messages as he had been, and I could hear he'd loaded up some sort of blowjob video. I could tell from the sounds it was definitely oral in nature. His dick was remarkably salty, and I could feel there was a trickle of precum as I rolled it around effortlessly on my tongue. My hand slid onto his chair, up under his balls, where I let them roll into my palm. They were heavy for his age, and very hairy, and I would waggle my fingers around to stimulate them some as I began to bob my head on his limp dick. 
Eventually, much to my surprise, I could feel his dick was swelling a bit. It would grow in size and firm up some, prompting me to bob a bit faster. The upside to his size and age was that he remained hilted in me with no effort on my part, seeing as he wasn't near the back of my throat. Moreso, he rested just at the base of my muzzle, and I could easily push my snout down to where my nose scrunched up against his crotch without having to worry about any sort of gagging. I did just that, in slow, deep motions that let his dick savor the entire experience of sliding inside my drooly maw, and in return I'd feel him tense up, his old balls clenching up close to his body when I'd hilt him, only to flop back down into my hand again.
His old erectile issues were active, though, and he would go through cycles of becoming semi-erect (and even almost fully erect) before going soft again. I never slowed my work, though, and would put extra effort in when I felt him going soft to restimulate him. A few times, it prompted a quiet, grumbly moan out of him that I'm not even sure he was aware he made. As I continued bobbing on his dick while rolling his balls around, he'd eventually reach a hand down and smack my hand away. I didn't ask questions, but instead focused just on sucking his dick. He then would slide both his hands down, scooting his ass forward a bit as he pulled my head down hard on his dick, causing my nose to scrunch up and fishy body hair to tickle the inside of my nose. I felt a sudden surge of life flow to his dick and he was abruptly semi-erect again, though this time his breathing was starting to get heavier. 
His old legs spread a bit and he scooted the chair back, scooting his ass forward to where it was at the edge of the seat. His body was leaned forward with his elbows on the computer table, his face close to the screen as he watched what sounded to be some pretty intense oral porn. I could hear gagging and lots of moaning, and his cock was beginning to give me a more substantial dribble of precum. I felt like he was getting close, so I really leaned into the efforts of muzzling his dick as deeply as I could. He'd scooted forward enough that his heavy, low-hanging balls had slid off the computer chair and were lightly plapping me on my chin as I rolled my head forward, up and back, sucking off his half-mast dick the best I could. The smell was so arousing, I couldn't get enough of his musk and it prompted me to keep sniffing loudly at him each time I'd dip down into that body hair.
Finally, his hands would come down on my head, grabbing both sides of it as he proceeded to try to fuck my face. His dick never did get fully erect, and I'm pretty sure he never looked at me. He was fixated on the screen, but I felt his fingertips dig into my face a bit as he started to thrust to the best of his ability. His breathing was wheezy, and his legs and arms began to tremble before I finally felt it. His breath would hitch in his throat and he'd suddenly exhale a ragged, exasperated moan as he thrust to a hilt in my muzzle. Several thick globs of cum suddenly pooled onto my tongue, followed by him pulling back his dick and painting a stripe of seed in my muzzle before thrusting back into it once more, continuing to drain his dick into my mouth. He didn't shoot his load, rather it came out as a consistent, weak set of drools. It was a full load, though, and I swallowed it happily before I felt his dick almost instantly go limp again. He coughed several times, finally prompting him to quietly cuss a frustrated "godDAMMIT" as he tried to soothe himself out of his coughing fit. 
He adjusted his glasses, and clicked a few times on the computer. I heard the tabs stop playing audio, and I assumed he was closing videos now that he was done. He'd scoot his chair back and give me the short order of "get up", which I promptly obeyed. I crawled out from under his computer table and stood, sporting a full erection stiff in my pajama pants that he looked directly at before looking up to my face. I just grinned and shrugged my shoulders as I whispered "I had fun".
"Thanks" he'd say quietly before reaching for a tissue on his computer table, wiping my spit off his dick before pulling his pants back up. As he did, he'd scoot his chair back forward and go right back to the internet, pulling up a tab that looked like what he was reading before he got horny earlier. It looked incredibly boring, but I wanted to show interest, so I leaned forward a bit to read next to him. He'd look over to me as I did, asking "can I help you?"
"Just curious what you were readin'."
"Stuff about the planes we flew in the Southeast Asian War."
"Is that the war you were in?" I'd ask. I'd assumed it, because of his age, but I didn't want to be presumptuous.
"Yep."
"Oh, thanks for your service. My grandpa was in that too."
"Whole thing sucked. Had a shit time. Only thing good was the drugs and girls."
"That's pretty much what he said too."
He'd sit there in silence for a moment after I said that, still not looking at me. He'd avoided it almost the whole time I'd been with him. Finally, after a minute or so, he'd say "i'll tell ya stories about it tomorrow when I get up. Don't let me forget."
"I won't," I said. "I'd love to hear more stories from that time."
"Good. Now go t' bed." he'd say, finally looking at me as he gave me a onceover.
"And if y' tell Beau what happened i'll kill you."
"Secret's safe with me, sir" I said, taking a few steps back before turning to face the basement door. I'd stop just before that, though, turning back around and asking "sir?"
"What?"
"Lemme know if y' ever wanna do that again. I'm rather fond of ya." I'd say. He wouldn't look at me, rather instead he'd click a few times and reply "go to bed."
"Yes sir."