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Alex dreaded the ride home alone. He'd endured worse. After all, it was Friday, and later, he'd be at his friend's. He took a seat in the middle, not so near the popular kids in the back, but not so close as to be bunched with the younger kids in the front. Ryan Wright walked past him, oddly silent. Their eyes met briefly and Alex read suspicion in them. Suspicion, or perhaps confusion, a vague fear that he'd been seeing things? Doubtful, Alex, thought: Ryan was too arrogant to ever fancy himself insane. But at least he had ways of dealing with Ryan, if it came to that. He buried his face in an issue of Sh?nen Jump, and crouched down, not wanting to attract attention; the musky smell had all but dissipated, and, if anything, was no stronger than the skunk weed some of the boys in back occasionally lit up, or carried on them, despite the risks.

~

His uncle's house rested atop a steep hill, an octagon crafted from local pine and maple. The first floor, almost entirely open, save for one nook that served as a study, consisted of ceiling to floor windows, and gave the feeling of being outside, amongst the trees. A spiral stair led to a smaller octagon that served as the second floor; two bedrooms, and a bath. The place was by no means huge, but elegant, every detail polished smooth as stones in a stream bed. Alex set his backpack by the kitchen counter, poured a glass of chocolate milk, and picked up a note, in his Uncle's hand:

_"Alex-

I got called off to Bangor to receive an unexpected award at a pottery conference. Sorry to leave you alone so suddenly, but I think you'll be able to manage, there's plenty of food. Oh, and on your dresser, I left a little present for your friend with the red hair. Reminded me of him, somehow. Back by Monday morning,

Love,

Uncle Bill

PS-And try to avoid any more skunks!"_

Alex set the note down, relieved. He'd miss his uncle, but with so much to sort out this made things easier. And what present? He ran up to his room, and by the skunk figure on his dresser, a smooth ceramic fox in shades of bright orange, black and white, crouched, ready to jump. Oddly, the lithe vulpine did suggest his agile friend, and all Brad's gear did say, "Fox" on it. Maybe that's where he got the idea.

After a quick sandwich, he packed a change of clothes, wrapped the figure in a t-shirt, and set off down the road to Brad's trailer, which lay down the hill, along the river. He'd reach the place by dusk. A faint breeze stirred the leaves, most of which had turned deep shades of red, caught in the lowering rays of sunlight. He pondered just what to tell brad: the whole thing, or just parts? Approaching their mobile home, which rested on cement blocks to give it some elevation from high waters, he heard a truck pulling in, and saw Brad jumping out in the distance, giving his mom a kiss bye, then grabbing his bike and gear from the back. He was covered in mud. His mom worked late, at a bar a few towns over. Alex knew little about her. At school, kids claimed she worked as a lap-dancer, and Brad had given out a few fat lips on that account.

"Hey Skunkboy!" his friend called to Alex.

"Ha, ha! Very funny. But I'm afraid I smell pretty much normal again!"

He followed Brad into his tiny room, where he set his BMX gear down, helmet, pads, padded pants. Such things impressed Alex as much as if they'd been an exotic suit of armor.

"Hey, I got something for ya. My uncle made it. Here, said it reminded him of you."

Brad squinted at the fox-shaped vase. "Huh, well I guess I can see that. Always did like foxes...you see a lot of 'em down here, along the river, late at night. Even live underneath the house, sometimes. Tell him thanks. But where am I gonna put it?" He scanned his cramped room. "Well, for now, I guess I'll put it in the bathroom, on the toilet. No disrespect. Maybe mom will put a plant in it, or something. Anyway, I better shower off, so hold on a few."

He set the curious clay fox on the back of the toilet, stripped out of his t-shirt and pants, and waited for the shower to warm up. Though he hadn't told Alex, the musky skunk scent his friend carried was still more than a trace, and as he got into the shower, watching the mud swirl down the drain, he realized he'd grown quite hard. Why, he couldn't say, but quickly found himself beating off in the warm mist. He didn't last long: within moments, he shot generous spurts of cum against the shower curtain, and then, dripping down onto his small thatch of orange pubic hair, where it became entangled. Damn, he thought, he'd left the soap by the sink. He inched out onto the bath-mat, slipped slightly, grazing his hand, still slippery with semen, against the curious fox, almost knocking it over. Phew, close one, he thought, getting back in, lathering up his balls, and rinsing off. As he dried himself off with the towel, he became aware of a sharp, animal scent, like the foxes that had denned up winters under the trailer. Maybe it was time he started to wear deodorant? Probably just due to all the exertion; he'd come in second place in all three trials, just a hair behind first. He chalked it up to the excitement, put on a pair of fresh briefs, wrapped himself in a towel, and went back to his room. But before he did, he noted something odd: Near the fox, lay a curious, round object: Examining it more closely, he picked up the coin, cast in tarnished brass: On one side, a fox leaping a wide arc in mid-air, on the other, the full moon.

~

While his friend showered off, Alex surveyed his friend's gear. He put the helmet on and then touched the smooth, nylon coating of the pants. Brad's sweat lingered like a faint, animal musk, mixed with the smell of wet clay. Dangling from the helmet was a mouth-guard; he sheepishly put it in his own, and bit down softly, as if he might taste his friend. He could feel the blood rushing to his cock, and had to fight off the desire to put the rest of Brad's gear on, as if in doing so he might be enveloped by him. Maybe he had time to beat off real quick before he came back out? He unzipped his pants, and began to stoke his hard shaft, which he had barely noticed had taken on a more bulbous, thick shape. All the while, he thought of the red-haired boy in the shower, a warmth surging through him until he could no longer hold back, and before he could stop himself, realized he'd made quite a mess on his friends pants. Shit! What now? He took out a t-shirt from his back-pack, and wiped it off as best he could; he had barely got the helmet off and zipped up his pants as he heard Brad opening the bathroom door. The musky scent of skunks had again grown sharper and a pair of tiny eyes and a striped pointy nose peered into the window, unseen.

~

To be continued...