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Charles' Growing Pains IV

by Kenneth Beltan

Everything © Kenneth Beltan, 2015

1

Charles' senior year had gone by quickly, much as he had always hoped. The fox had never particularly enjoyed high school and was desperate to be done with it so that he could start his own life and taste the freedom he had so long craved. The first three years he had worked extra hard, racking up the credits he needed so that the final half of his senior year was largely study hall. In fact, he had gotten permission to trade study hall for half days so he could work part of the week. He was only taking electives now, along with his last required gym class. He was even living on his own in an old apartment building in Downtown Brooklyn. Several subway lines met only a five minute walk from where he lived, rent was cheap as hell (especially since his father had decided to help pay part of it until Charles was finally finished with school), and best of all, Charles spent almost all of his time at home completely in the buff. Joe had helped move the lad in and spent the night as well. Arthur had already planned his vacation before Charles' move-in date was set, but the wolf promised to make it up to his young friend when he had returned to New York. For Charles, being able to fall asleep in another man's arms had been a treat unlike any other. They had played and rutted for a long time, free and open as they liked. It made Charles feel more like an adult than ever before: to be able to make his own decisions, come and go as he liked, and even have a lover in his bed. Well, perhaps "lover" was not quite the right word, but he was not sure what else to say that did not sound crass and demeaning.

He and Joe had been spending a lot of time together since Charles joined the soccer team for that year. He was playing very well and actually enjoying himself, though not as much as he was enjoying his time with Joe. Like always, be it after gym or after practice on the three days a week they met, he helped Joe put away the equipment and was the last to leave. It helped that Joe did not tolerate a lot of loitering around after class or practice, having always told his pupils to go hang out somewhere else so he could go home. He usually said it good-naturedly, but like any member of the school staff, he did eventually want to go home. There was no overtime pay with this job after all, and while he was generous and always wanted to be available, he was grateful his time was not sought overmuch. The main exception, of course, was when it was Charles.

The young fox lamented often how infrequently they could fool around, but Joe always pointed out how dangerous it was to do it at all at school. True to their nature as foxes, however, they enjoyed being able to indulge their crafty, adventurous sides. The thrill and danger itself was a bit of a turn-on. Nevertheless, most of their fun occurred at either Joe's or Charles' place. When it did occur at school, it typically consisted of them stripping off, stepping into the shower and sucking each other off. On Fridays, Joe enjoyed occasionally pushing the young fox against the wall and riding his ass fast and hard. There were much fewer staff left at the school after Friday soccer practice, and it almost guaranteed that they would have enough privacy to do at least that much. Other times they would play in the sauna (a favorite activity of theirs) which required no cleanup if they did it right. They would begin masturbating together, edging and edging, until one of them could stand it no longer, get up, shove his cock in the other's mouth, and just feed him the load. Even the pool was not off limits. They enjoyed grinding against each other in the water, hanging on to the side or the ladder, until their cocks unloaded. Joe even shocked his pupil by pissing on Charles in the pool. As hot as Charles had found it, he was shocked until Joe explained how diffuse a load or two would be in so many thousand gallons of water and with all the chemicals. Taking Joe's word to heart, Charles let himself open on his teacher while kissing him passionately.

The young fox's bed often saw other bodies in it as well. At least two, and sometimes three, nights a week, either Arthur or Joe would spend the night with him. Charles wanted to try and have all three of them share it together, but the lessons of survival both of them had been imparting to him made him keep his peace for the time being. He knew that the safest thing for them all until he graduated was to remain silent. He had Joe's position to consider above everything. Once Charles was no longer the school's responsibility, he and Joe would be freer. If after that it was discovered they were bedding each other, there could be no repercussions for two consenting adults outside school hours and grounds. Of course, they had decided to at least allow several months to elapse before dropping the high degree of discretion they were employing. It was also dangerous allowing both adults to know of each other personally before he was done with high school even if he was now legally an adult. It seemed so unfair to him, even if he could understand some of the possible disapproval. The fact that his paramours were men old enough to be his father, however, was something he was sure few would be inclined to excuse. In moments of insecurity, Charles imagined having everything exposed and then dragged into court. At least if he was patient until leaving high school for good, the two men could say with perfect honesty that they had no knowledge of each other.

When Charles was not having gentlemen over, his parents often came to visit so in the end he was finding himself having surprisingly few days alone to himself at home. His mother had been especially sorry to see her son move out so soon, and Charles could tell his father shared those sentiments even if he expressed them far less. Nasreen fussed over whether Charles was eating enough ("It's not a question of eating enough but eating enough to be satisfied; and with Charles, the answer is always no," as her husband once noted candidly and was pointedly ignored by Nasreen). Matthew was more interested in the condition of the apartment, having often brought tools to make repairs or improve upon previous repairs by the management that he felt were not up to scratch. In fact, on move-in day, Matthew had removed the shower head that came with the apartment and installed a new and better one, explaining that, "Landlords rarely provide fixtures worth horse shit. As foxes, we deserve better. This'd never happen if the building was owned and managed by a fox, feline or wolf." His siblings were impressed and envious that their older brother had managed to get his own place so fast, and it fueled their imaginations expectedly: "You throw any wild parties yet?" his sister Theresa asked. "Are you kidding? This is me you're talking about, you know." Or his brother: "Hey, you know where to score some weed? I mean, this is Downtown." "You're such a pothead, Adeel, and you've never bought any."

There had been a surprising moment one night between father and son about a month after Charles had moved out. They had a rather frank discussion regarding Charles' potential sex life, and knowing his father's reluctance to even broach the subject, it had left Charles feeling somewhat uneasy.

"Son, I want to talk frankly. I don't know if you're having sex or not, but if you are, are you being careful?" Matthew had asked out of the blue one night over a pizza as an early Spring rain fell outside the window they were sitting next to. Charles did not answer but instead just regarded his father in surprise. He had no idea how to answer, having never expected such a question to be put to him. Unfortunately for Charles, his father had deliberately chosen to spring the question in order to elicit an involuntarily honest response. Nodding at the expected response, Matthew continued. "I thought you might be. Well, you're on your own now and an adult, so you're perfectly entitled to live as you like. You don't have to tell me details or who she is...or they are." He grinned, guessing correctly that his son was more likely to play the field and feeling some secret pride about it. "I just want to know that you are being careful. I don't want you to knock some gal up. You'll have to marry her if you do, and I don't think you're looking to get hitched just yet."

Setting his pizza slice down and sighing, Charles answered as honestly as he dared without giving the whole truth away. "Believe me, I'm more careful than you know. You didn't raise a fool." "I don't suppose we'll get to meet any of your love interests?"

Half grinning, Charles quoted Rick James: "She's a very kinky girl -- the kind you don't bring home to Mother."

Matthew roared with laughter, slapping the table with his heavy paw. "You're funny, Charles. Just continue being careful and try not to get too involved with someone who's likely to cause you trouble."

"I kind of thought you'd disapprove."

"When you were living at home, yes, I would have," Matthew answered, speaking more seriously now. "You're on your own now, so the choices you make are your own, and you're old enough to be held accountable. I also don't disapprove of a little promiscuity at your age. That's natural and can even be beneficial. Understand, though, that I do believe there is a fine line between having a bit of fun and becoming a full out...well, slut. Yes, I think men can be sluts. There's more to life than sex, and you don't want people to think you only care about one thing. Your mother, on the other paw, is much more traditional, as you damn well know." He gave his son a pointed look. "I would advise discretion when it comes to bits of fluff, as my folks used to put it. For your sake, I also hope you're only playing around with other adults."

"I am, believe me," Charles answered emphatically.

Matthew nodded and picked up his soda. "Good man. Just keep your wits about you, son. We've done the best we could, so now the rest is up to you. Don't let your newfound freedom get the better of you."

Charles was very conscious indeed of being careful to stay out of trouble, but he suddenly appreciated just how much his choices might impact his family even if he was no longer living with them. It was sobering indeed, and Charles decided to let it ring as a strong reminder to strive to always act wisely, even if it meant declaring a cessation of sexual escapades with Joe at school -- or at least a reduction. He did not want to disappoint his family, and it made him feel a deep dread about what might happen when he finally came out to them. He had long since reasoned that he could not live a double-life indefinitely, even if the news would hurt them. To lie about it would ultimately make more trouble than anything else. He did not want to risk losing their love. It was the worst thing he could imagine. He sorely wished that he had a clearer idea about how they felt regarding homosexuality. If nothing else, it might help him figure out how to bring it up in the future.

"Son? Are you all right?"

Charles' face remained just as neutral and unreadable as before his father spoke after a long silence. "Just letting your words sink in. I don't want to bring pain to any of you. I hope you know that. I gotta live my own life, though."

"I know, son. Believe me, I do."

"I don't want to go to church anymore, though. I'm going to stop going on Sundays."

Though Matthew's eyes widened a bit, he did not look very surprised. "Somehow, I was expecting that to come. You're like me in that regard. I've never really been a religious man myself. I like to take God on my own terms. Your mother won't be pleased, though, that's for sure."

"No, she won't," Charles answered. "I've wanted to tell you first because I knew you'd understand. How should I break it to Mom?"

"You let me deal with that. You've got enough on your platter already. I'll make her understand. She accepted it when I stopped going, and she'll have to do the same with you. There's nothing for it. As long as you don't become an atheist, I think she'll be able to live with it."

"What if I don't believe in God?" Charles asked guardedly, his tail tip twitching nervously.

Matthew shrugged. "You'll have to figure all that out for yourself, Charles. I hope, though, that you won't ignore the divine presence in all of Creation. It's not really that hard to miss. Most atheists, I think, reject God because they have a beef with institutional Christianity. Don't let the church ruin God for you. Just because they claim to speak for Him doesn't mean they really do. I've never bought that, and I never, ever will." "You say you don't want me to ignore a divinity you say is obvious, but then you say to figure things out for myself."

Matthew sighed, putting his forehead in his palm. "I'm not really good at this shit, never was. What I mean is: don't let a beef get in the way of honest investigation. Don't hold Christianity against God, or you might throw the baby out with the bathwater. If after concluding impartially that you don't believe in God, well, that's for you to decide. I ain't gonna force you to believe anything. Does that make more sense, my boy?"

Charles nodded glumly. "Yeah, I guess I see what you mean. Thanks for letting me do it my own way, though."

"Why do you feel so strongly about this? Something nagging at you that you want to tell me about?"

Charles looked his father directly in his eyes, maintaining a stiff silence for a while before answering. "No."

"That's all right. Just know that you can talk to me if you feel you need an ear to bend, all right, Charles?" Matthew gave his son a gentle but pleading look, a look that implored the young fox not to close up to him.

"Thanks, Dad. I will."

Charles immediately changed subjects, recounting how soccer practice was going and his excitement about the upcoming match. Matthew went happily along even as he started speculating at just what was stewing inside his usually bright and outgoing son that could affect such an unexpected if brief broodiness. It was the seed that would grow in a continually nagging worry, fed by fatherly intuition that there might be something important he did not know about his own son. Until he had a better idea as to what it might be -- or if it was even all that important -- he would keep it to himself.

2

"Well, hello. Do come in, please," Charles rumbled, wearing only his bulging briefs and a smile as he opened his door to admit Arthur in. The older wolf smiled appreciatively, stepped in, and closed the door behind him. As he reached down to cup Charles' crotch, he kissed the lad passionately. Charles stepped close so their chests could touch as he reached behind Arthur to bolt the door. His paws then went to the wolf's rump to squeeze the firm mounds. "Man, you look good in anything," he stated huskily as he looked at the wolf in dark blue jeans, a button-up shirt and a leather jacket.

"And you look delicious even in just your underwear," Arthur answered, giving Charles' shaft a firm grasp. "How are you doing? Your homework done?"

"Yes, Dad," the fox answered impudently.

"Just looking out for your best interests," Arthur replied simply as he slipped his jacket off and hung it on a free hook by the door before beginning to unbutton his shirt. "In that vein, I think you should take off those briefs, son," he continued, gesturing casually at Charles' obvious erection. "Roomy as they are, it's still better to have no constraints when you're that well endowed." "Oh, of course," Charles purred, playing along and slipping the garment off his body and kicking it away. He rubbed his balls and gave his shaft a few good strokes as he watched his friend slip his shirt off and then begin on his trousers. "I'm glad you're just as eager to get this party started as I am."

"It's been a hell of a week," Arthur said as he shucked his trousers and underwear down together and stepped out of them, naked as the day was long and already half hard. "Papa needs a bit of R&R." He reached into his coat and pulled out a cigarette case. Instead of cigarettes, though, it was full of neatly rolled joints. He stuck one in his mouth, lit it up, and took a long drag. He then started confidently towards the sofa, pulling Charles along by his cock and flopping down heavily. After taking another drag, he patted his thigh, indicating that Charles should kneel between his legs. "It's all yours, Charles. I know you've been wanting it. Make your Papa proud." He grinned lustily as he watched Charles sink down quickly, his huge paws resting on both of Arthur's thighs as he greedily eyed the stiff, black pillar. The wolf offered his joint. "Here, take a few hits before you begin." Charles took two long, slow drags, blowing the smoke all around Arthur's cock before handing back the joint. Charles gave his chops a lick before he engulfed his friend's dick all at once. Arthur took in a slow, deep breath, relaxed completely, and let his head fall back to rest on the top of the cushion. He exhaled loudly with a groan of pleasure as Charles got to work. "That's it, son. Very nice."

Arthur just sat splayed out and got high as Charles indulged himself between the wolf's large thighs. He kept one of his paws on the fox's head, occasionally scratching behind his ear or gently directing it. It was a subtle but pointed display of dominance they both enjoyed. Arthur was less overtly commanding than Joe, instead employing a subtler way of expressing dominance that surprised Charles with its effectiveness. At the same time, when Arthur turned control over to Charles, he did it with complete abandon, which contrasted with Joe seeming to be a top even when he bottomed.

In spite of the fox's eagerness, Arthur encouraged Charles to take it nice and slow, having him take a few more tokes of marijuana to facilitate it. Charles had initially been reluctant to try to drug, but after experiencing its effects on sex, in which every nerve in his body felt subtly more alive, his attitude had changed considerably towards it. It had also made it easier to slow down, something he had often had a difficult time doing because he felt so horny and eager to go to town. Both Arthur and Joe had been gradually helping him to appreciate a more moderate pace, especially Arthur, telling him not to focus so much on the end but on a good journey as well.

After initially displaying an almost manic desire to get into Arthur's trousers, Charles had gradually slowed down, taking ample time to just take in the wolf's scent, luxuriously tasting the hot cock in his paws, and sometimes even just laying his head on Arthur's belly to have his ears gently stroked. Arthur's paw felt very nice on his head and face.

"What do you say we take this into the bedroom, son? We can curl up together better in there," the wolf suggested gently, giving Charles' ear a playful tug. The fox answered with a dreamy smile and a small nod. Arthur slowly stood up, put the joint out on a plate from last night on the side table, and let the fox lead the way.

Charles climbed onto his bed, and soon Arthur had climbed on top of him, kissing him lazily and embracing the him tightly. Arthur licked over Charles' face a few times and sat up. He moved himself forward so that he was straddling Charles' upper torso and simply fed his cock to the young man. "There you go, son. Mmm..."

Time hardly registered to Charles as he indulged himself, and he did not mind it, letting the streams and pulses of pleasure course through him. He was even enjoying the lugubrious pace of their sex, happy to not feel so hurried as he normally was with school, soccer practice, music lessons, and his job, as well as visiting his family and exploring colleges. He thought about school finally being over and having the opportunity to go to a nude beach with Arthur or camping in some secluded spot for some good erotic sport. He hoped they could get high and have a few drinks at night and make love under the stars, the warm summer night air wafting through their fur. It would be such a wonderful release from all of his labors this past year. While he indulged himself in his fantasies, he had failed to notice how he had been working Arthur until his grunts got louder and then finally his powerful arms suddenly reached up and gripped the top of the headboard. The wolf's strong frame showed even under the thick grey and black fur, and he snarled and barked as he started unloading voluminously down Charles' throat. His cock was hilted completely in the fox's large maw, and his balls surged against Charles' lower jaw.

"Even when you doze off, you still do a good job," Arthur chuckled as he pulled out of his friend's mouth gently after a lengthy climax.

"It mostly went down my throat. I hardly got to taste anything," Charles complained.

"Don't worry, son, we'll fix that," Arthur assured him as he ruffled the fox's headfur. He swung his leg over so that he was facing the opposite way and bent down to the straining hard erection Charles still sported. "Now we can have fun at the same time, can't we? What more could a man ask for?" Without waiting for an answer, he got to work.

Charles grinned wide and simply enjoyed himself for a while, his paws playing with the hanging wolfhood in front of him. He eventually stuck his nose where the shaft met the testes, letting them teabag over his broad snout. Occasionally flicking his tongue out to taste or give a little stimulation to his friend's cock, Charles maintained his position while he was pleasured, wallowing in the double-delights of the marijuana and Arthur's unique scent and flavor, all the while feeling himself coming closer to climax. He subtly began bucking his hips, and his legs started to shake as the wave inched onward. Groaning, his jaw clenched, he felt himself erupt hard inside the wolf's warm muzzle. Even as he came to the end, Arthur was still stimulating him enough to produce dry contractions that wracked the fox's body, his thighs holding Arthur's head firmly in place but unable to prevent his tongue from working. Arthur eventually let up and let the cock fall out of his mouth, enjoying his heft against his face with a grin.

"I know I got a proper mouthful," Arthur quipped, looking back at his young paramour. "You would have, too, if you would have only given me a bit of love." He made a pouty face that was silly but just made Charles roll his eyes.

"You were doing so well, I could hardly focus on anything else. I am high, after all," Charles answered foxily.

Arthur answered with the kind of dual-meaning half-grin that expressed amusement at Charles' response and mild chastisement for the cheekiness. It was a masterful canine look, and even Charles was impressed by it, hoping he could express so much so subtly one day. Nevertheless, he obliged, and they began another round. Afterwards they had simply indulged in another joint and cuddled, savoring each other's warmth and musk, which inevitably led them into a good, hard grinding. Arthur had been the first to blow, holding Charles tightly as his cock surged between their bellies, pouring out copiously. They both hoped it would stay in their fur and not soil the covers, as laundry was not free, and neither felt like visiting the laundromat tonight. Charles marveled at how hot Arthur's essence was, and its slickness was helping him to get closer as well. Arthur unexpectedly reached a paw between them and began masturbating Charles hard so that he was soon yowling as he fired off. In the end, they had been lucky enough to actually contain the mess, and Charles had enjoyed showing off his strength by holding his lupine friend to him as he moved them to the shower. No sooner had they stepped in, the rivulets of cum that had been leaking down Charles' legs finally came over his feet and onto the shower floor. Pulling the curtain shut, they enjoyed a long shower in which Arthur bucked good and hard into Charles for a final round before supper.

Charles slept well that night, curled up tightly with Arthur, lamenting only that he had to get up for a nine-thirty shift. He hated to work on a Saturday, but he was in no position yet to demand better hours. It was also an opportunity for a full shift that he did not otherwise have during the week, and he needed every dollar he could get his paws on. What that money might actually produce for him remained ambiguous in his mind, but he put that aside for the time being as Arthur's tongue lapped over his ears, soothing him to sleep in short order.

3

The organ at the Orthodox Cathedral of the Holy Virgin Protection in Lower Manhattan brooded in a rumble, its notes changing beat by beat hypnotically as Charles played a Bach fugue in D-sharp minor. Its mood matched the dreary, steady rain that poured outside. It was late Spring, but a winter-like gloom had laid over the city all week with clouds, showers, rain, and sometimes thunderstorms. Even Charles' sprits were sinking, and he half-wished that he did not have to be here to practice. Mrs. Nemtsova was old-school, accustomed to hardship from a childhood in the Soviet Union after the War, and she was not the type to give breaks easily. At least he had made no mistakes yet, he thought, as his foot reached for an A-sharp pedal to bring the third voice back into the fugue. When it sounded, he realized that he had forgotten to change the pedal registration, and the note hardly stood out from the manuals. He grimaced as his teacher shouted out.

"No, no, no! That registration is all wrong, Charles!" The tall, svelte otter came striding over, her heels clacking on the polished wood floors of the church where she served as organist. "Where are the reeds?"

Charles took off his glasses, set them on the music stand, and rubbed both his paws over his face. Practice today had been demanding. He had already read through seven preludes and fugues, and he was finally on the eighth and final set of the day. This fugue had given him trouble, though, and it always had. He loved it, but dreaded playing it with its tricky fingering. He had been managing perfectly for the first half, which surprised him, and then it all had to come crashing down because he forgot to hit the button for his presets. It had been one of the few rounds with a mistake today, and after two and half hours, he was exhausted. This was after private study with her at school today as well. He sometimes wondered why he had let her bully him into private lessons and then remembered it was because he gave into his cock and balls and joined the soccer team so he could bone his gym teacher.

"You need to practice this book more, Charles. I know you are busy, but you need to be in top form for your college entrance recital."

"It was just a registration mistake," the young fox protested, his ears still flattening against his skull. "It didn't sound bad really, just not so dramatic."

"It was almost swallowed by the manual registration," she pointed out evenly. He knew she would say that. She was a masterful teacher, and he had never played finer in his life than he had under her very strict tutelage. "Even forgetting to push a piston counts as a wrong fingering. You have to make an impression. You're lucky I'm not making you memorize the entire 48. My father made me do just that, even though he hated the Germans with all his heart. He did it because the very best masterworks should be completely absorbed in order to learn composition, technique, and performance. Memorization is particularly necessary for concerts, as well as auditions. They may not ask you to play all of it for them, but the fact that you come so prepared will say much about you."

"I only have to look at the music half the time as it is," Charles conceded as he selected his stops and programmed them to a piston.

"Good!" Mrs. Nemtsova responded. "I would prefer that you not have to look at your music at all for any of it. You still must memorize at least a quarter of this, but I think you will easily memorize half of it. Yes, I think that will be our goal now. You already know more than I originally assigned."

Charles glared thunderstruck at his teacher, his jaw hanging open in shock. "No, please, Mrs. Nemtsova!"

She held her paw, his gaze sharp as a blade, and Charles stopped immediately. "You can easily do this. You have the time -- or rather, you would if you stopped lallygagging around. I think your parents should have kept you at home. You would have had no other choice but to practice more often. Your mother would have made certain of that."

Mrs. Nemtsova had actually brought this point up with his mother, who was every bit as eager that her son do as well as he could at music as possible. She greatly respected Mrs. Nemtsova's discipline and attention to detail, and her advice over the years had carried a lot of influence with her. When Charles moved out, the family piano had to accompany him to his loft. His father and his sister had not been pleased, as they loved to play the piano as well. His father had blessedly kept his peace, while his sister had decided to add her voice to the objection to his moving out, though not only for the piano.

"It's not a sin to enjoy the fruits of adulthood when one's worked so hard for them," Charles answered coldly, his eyes narrowing.

"An adult balances pleasure with responsibility, and your responsibility is to finish your education and secure your scholarship. Juilliard is very competitive, and you are good enough to get in...if you must stay in the US." She would have liked him to also apply for schools in Europe, but the family's budget would only go so far. There still was the likelihood of him going to school in London, as he had family there, and they were more than willing to put him up. Charles was torn, on the one paw excited about the possibility, and hesitant on the other because he did not want to surrender his freedom and have to conceal himself in the closet any deeper than he already had to. "I could kill Mr. Beltrami." She muttered something in Russian that Charles did not understand but assumed was something close to "fucking asshole." She had been very stiff to him ever since Charles told her that he was going to be play soccer this year.

"Now, start the fugue from the beginning. You were playing it quite beautifully." She smiled at him and went back to sit in her pew.

Charles' ears perked a bit at her compliment, as her critiques could be very acidic indeed.

He took up the task again, his playing just as competent as before, this time getting his registration correct and letting the fugue subject roar out underneath rather more boldly than he figured his teacher might have had in mind. She kept her peace, though, apparently approving of her pupil's choice. She could be finicky about finesse, but she did sometimes allow for surprising freedom of interpretation when executed well. The sixteen foot reads snarled in a heavy plod, and the effect began to affect Charles' mood, getting him more into the music. The fugue had started out feeling lonely and melancholy, but now its complexity was increasing, and he began sneaking in additional changes in the stops where he could to give more color. The fugue began to feel more agitated and desperate as he subtly played with time and rubato. Slowly, the final bars of the fugue came into sight. He switched to his quietest manual, effecting a brief lull in the desperate character he had given the piece only to suddenly couple the two manuals he was using and returning to the pedals. The organ roared so demonically that the church windows were shaking. Mrs. Nemtsova was even leaning forward in her pew, unaware that she had been holding her breath, as she was drawn in by Charles' ingenious accelerando that led to the final three chords. He began his decelerando on the A-sharp sustained chord, slowing dramatically on the A-sharp seven chord, and threw his head back as he struck the final D-sharp major chord, his feet splaying out to play D-sharps in the bass. He milked the finale masterfully, sustaining the fermata as if it would end the world. Thunder sounded heavily outside as if to answer and confirm the beginning of the Apocalypse.

Then it was over, and within a few seconds, the sound finally died, leaving a heavy, uncomfortable silence in the sanctuary. Mrs. Nemstova finally realized she needed to breathe. She steadied herself, offered a prayer for strength, and looked up at her charge. She could not help but begin to applaud. "Brilliant, Charles! Absolutely brilliant!" she said in Russian. Charles knew enough phrases of the language from having worked with her for so many years, and he definitely understood her this time. He was shocked, as she had never praised him so extravagantly before. "I stopped breathing for a while," she said as she rose and walked over briskly. "Now you see how the right registration can affect your playing?"

The young fox nodded, still looking surprised at it all. "I do. It just fed on itself."

"Yes, it must! You and the music must become one. There must be no difference. Absolute harmony must be there between you and what you are playing. When that happens, God is speaking through it all. That is why Bach ends the Well-Tempered Clavier with the inscription soli deo gloria, Charles. It is why he said all music must be given up as a prayer to God. Only by surrendering to God can He become manifest in us."

The thought of channeling God frightened Charles. He also was not used to his teacher waxing so religiously as this. He still had many misgivings about religion at the moment.

"You look frightened." The otter nodded understandingly. "That can happen if you're not used to it, dear. Some people fight against it. It's useless to, though. If you fight against God, you're really only fighting against yourself. It's so counterproductive, and it can make you hate your own craft. I don't recommend it."

"Surely some creativity can come from a battle like that," Charles protested meekly but hopefully.

"Naturally," Mrs. Nemstova confirmed. "Eventually, those feelings must evolve, or you will find yourself saying the same thing. You'll become bored, disinterested, bitter, and you will hate yourself and thus all the world."

"Shostakovich hated the world," Charles pointed out.

"With good reason! Believe me, all Russians can understand why he was so grim and black." She shook her head, looking a bit far away and thinking private thoughts for a while. "He lived much of his life afraid that he would be arrested, disappeared, killed. Yes, he played the part of a party mouthpiece to the West, but anyone with sense knows he did it to survive. You can hear his hatred in his music. His hatred was not directed at God, though, but at the Communist party. That at least allowed him to remain creative. Still, let it be a lesson to never let any emotion rule you, especially fear and hatred. They will kill us all if we let them."

She smiled at him, the grimness of her pronouncements seeming to have passed from her mind while they still inflamed Charles'.

"I am reminded of a young man I judged in a competition a few years ago. He played the piece that you just did on a pedal harpsichord. He was last to perform, and the e-flat piano string broke during the end of the next to last performance."

"That's terrible!"

"Yes, especially because it was a piano competition. We decided to make an exception for this boy because of what he was playing. We were also eager to hear him play more." She related to him all that had happened and the dramatic events that took place. "Would you also believe that it was his first competition?"

"His first?" Charles exclaimed, his ears and tail piquing. "At that level?"

Mrs. Nemstova nodded. "He was also the youngest by five years at only ten." "Ten?!" Charles' mouth was hanging open. "What was he? A savant?"

"He was a prodigy, no doubt. I don't know what happened to him. He was a very poor boy from the Lower East Side. I believe he was earning his lessons by helping his elderly teacher with various responsibilities. I think she's dead now, rest her soul. God was certainly channeling through him. I believe he was a Hindu; he had an Indian name. One need not be Christian to channel God, you know." She gave him a pointed look that made him wonder if she suspected the reasons for his fear. He maintained a straight face.

"I believe that's enough today, Charles. Go home and study, and make sure you get a good night's sleep. I will see you tomorrow at school. I want to start working on some Tchaikovsky. You appreciate pointed emotionality in your music, so you will do him justice." She started walking back to the pew to pick up her coat and purse.

Charles started shutting down the organ, happy to be finally let go for the evening. "I'm looking forward to that. I'm getting a little overwhelmed with Bach. Did Tchaikovsky live a tough life as well?" "Yes, he did," Mrs. Nemstova answered, slipping her coat on. "He was sent to school at thirteen; his mother died young; and he was a homosexual who never really managed to to find true love. I think he tried to change that by marrying, and my how fast and tragically that failed! A gay man should never marry a woman."

Charles could have dropped his music if he were not a fox, a master of poise and control. "I did not know that about him," he answered. He looked interested, but he disguised it as though he was interested in the novelty of it, also feigning a bit of discomfort.

"The Soviets tried to suppress that, but a hot fact like that always finds a way out." She narrowed her eyes at him again. It was a look that said she was about to chastise him. It was a look otters did very well. "Don't tell me you are discomforted by gays. You are an artist. You will have to learn to be comfortable with it if you want to be in this business."

It was not the chastisement he had been expecting, but this was worse. He had to fight to look only mildly offended. "I'm not prejudiced, professor."

"Then why that look of unease when I mentioned Tchaikovsky was gay if you are not uncomfortable?" the small but formidable otter asked, stepping right up to the fox that completely dwarfed her in every physical way. "Hmm, perhaps you are covering up so you don't lose face. Of course, foxes are impossible to read." She stepped closer. "Or perhaps I hit something closer to home, no?" She poked his chest firmly to drive the point home.

Mrs. Nemstova's efforts elicited an involuntary response from Charles, raising his hackles. His fur puffed up, his ears splayed back, but he was also rumbling threateningly at her, letting her know she was treading on dangerous ground. She was made of stronger stuff than he gave her credit for, and she looked completely nonplussed. She merely raised her painted eyebrows a bit, looking as if she was not surprised. Indeed, she was not.

"I did hit close to home." She nodded and looked him directly in the eyes. "You have nothing to fear from me beyond what you already do as your teacher. I am not a gossip and do not tolerate it, as you well know. I am also not prejudiced. You may relax now. Don't forget to deactivate the couplers." She turned to gather her briefcase with her music and notes. She remained cool the whole time even as she was still nervous about how her pupil would react.

Charles sat motionless, thinking carefully before he spoke. He did not like that he had been sussed out by another teacher. Mr. Beltrami was one thing, being another fox. They were supposed to be able to read each other more successfully. "How long have you known?"

"Not long actually," she answered him as she closed the cover and straightened up. "Foxes are so very hard to figure out. Still, I have had many gay friends over my life working in music, so I am not unaware of things to look for. You have also never expressed interest in females yet often seem to have plans for the weekend about which you are excited. No one gets so excited to go to a movie or go bowling alone. Then there was your reaction a while ago. I went then from very mild suspicion to near certainty in a second." She snapped her finger.

"I thought I was more discreet," Charles said softly.

"You are actually quite discreet, but you could be more thorough," she answered. "I also happen to know what to look for, remember? You young people think you know everything."

"Must you always be so caustic?"

"Yes, I must be," she snapped, standing her ground. "We all need tough skins, especially as artists. As your elder, it is my job to guide you as best I can, not only in music. I care about you more than that, Charles Fareed Saxon. I also want you to understand how very real and dangerous the prejudice out there against gays is. You may be a very large man, but you are only one. I don't want any harm to come to you, and you can avoid a lot of it by being smart. The world is changing, but it is not that open-minded yet. You are going to have to be strong and tough, more than you realize. It's what you are meant to do. You are a true artist, and you will go far -- if you develop what it takes."

Charles looked away and slouched at the bench, sighing. He looked suddenly very tired and weary. He was not ready to be so exposed. It was as if the honeymoon of his secret escapades was over, though he could see no reason why he should feel that way. "What about my folks?"

"I would keep it under your hat until you are done with all of your schooling. That may sound dishonest, but you would be mad to do otherwise if you think it's likely they will reject you. You need to establish yourself beforehand."

"That was my plan."

"Good."

"You think I can go far?"

"You will." "What about love? I don't want to die young and without anyone like Tchaikovsky did."

"None of us do, dear." She put a comforting paw on his arm. "The world is different now. I don't think you will suffer that fate. Just don't hate God, and you will do well. You can lose nothing if you are full of God, for you will be fearless as well. You will then have your music and the freedom to love."

"What about the real and dangerous prejudice?" the fox asked.

"It is better to live happy and free than live long and suppressed, some say. We are very free in this country, believe me, and especially here in New York. That makes a difference indeed. Don't forget it and be grateful for it."

Charles nodded, not really sure what to think as he slipped his organ shoes off and stepped into his street shoes. He finished shutting down the organ, gathered his jacket, and packed his music away. "Thank you, professor. I...appreciate your discretion and your riding my ass. It'll be the making of me as a musician, I know it."

She nodded her head gracefully. "You're welcome, Charles. I am proud to have you as a student. Now no more sad thoughts. You have your whole life ahead of you, and you are doing just what you want to do and with a sensible head on your shoulders. That is a good way to start one's life. Oh, one more thing. Have a bit more trust in your parents. Your family is close and very loving. They may be more accepting than you think. I can't say they've ever struck me as narrow-minded people."

"I hope you're right. I really do."

4

"Go, go, go! Everyone, get out! I wanna go home!" shouted Mr. Beltrami to the remaining students in the locker room on Friday. "Don't you people have lives outside of here?"

"There is no life without sports, coach," answered a cheeky hyena as he ambled past with his friends on the football team.

"Tell that to your wife when you've got rent and two cubs," the arctic fox replied, his fists on his hips. "If you dare. I'm sure she'll have her own thoughts on the matter."

The jock didn't answer. Male hyenas rarely crossed a female so flippantly.

"Don't look so sad, you're not there yet," the gym teacher continued more amiably as he patted the young man on the shoulder. "I want you to get those sprints down, though. Keep working over the weekend."

"Will do! Don't worry, Mr. Beltrami!" the hyena responded, his ears and mood perking.

"Has anyone seen Saxon yet?" Joe wondered, looking around. "Should've been done by now."

A badger answered as he dropped his towel on the bench and reached for his underwear. "I was the last one in -- besides him, of course. He was bouncing a ball and thinking again. Must be a new song in his head."

Joe shook his head. "I'm sure that'd please Mrs. Nemtsova," he muttered.

"What was that, coach?"

"Nothing, nothing. Get going. I'll go collect our resident musician."

When the last of the students had filed out, Joe made a quick round of the showers, locker room, and the sauna to make sure everyone was gone. He turned off a few banks of lights and went out of the locker room and through the gym. His cock was already beginning to harden in his shorts as he pushed the double doors open and stepped down on the path leading to the field. He could clearly see Charles, but he was now sitting beside the net sack of balls. The young fox was idly fingering one of the soccer balls as he sat looking out but at nothing in particular. Joe walked across the great expanse of green grass in the late May air. It was a beautiful, perfect day, and this weekend was forecasted to finally be beautiful as well with not a drop of rain in sight. It was a welcome relief from the uncommonly rainy Spring that did not seem to want to lift.

"Charles?" the grey fox said softly.

Charles looked up, as if coming out of deep thoughts, and regarded his teacher. "Oh, hey, coach. Sorry. I guess I got a lot on my mind."

"That's all right, son," his teacher answered as he took a seat next to Charles. He peeled off his shirt and lay back in the grass, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the breeze through his fur. "Sometimes it's good just to sit and think. Wanna tell me about it?"

Charles sighed, even as he admired the sight of Joe in the grass. He wanted to slide his paw up the man's shorts, but before he got fresh, he wanted to share what was on his mind. "Mrs. Nemtsova knows I'm gay. She sussed me out."

"What?" Joe sat up like a shot.

"No, it's okay," Charles said, his paw up reassuringly. "She doesn't know about us. She just had been wondering about me for a while. She's cool with it, but she thinks I need to be a bit more discreet."

In spite of the seriousness of the revelation, Joe grinned. "Yeah. I can see that."

"Don't you start on me, too," Charles replied, his voice a bit strained from all his stress. "I'm only eighteen. It's not easy being this way and so young."

The arctic fox put a comforting paw on Charles' deep red back and rubbed it warmly. "I know, son. I know. What tipped her off?"

Charles explained what had happened at their last lesson at Holy Virgin Protection. "I'm glad to have another ally, but with her I feel so..."

"Exposed?" Joe offered.

"Yeah. Why is that?" Charles pleaded.

"You didn't want her to figure you out, whereas you wanted to get into my pants. Even now, you do. I can see it." Joe was grinning wide, not to mention starting to harden again.

Giving in, Charles reached over and slipped his fingers up the leg of Mr. Beltrami's shorts. He was wearing a jock again, Charles noted, as he his fingers worked around it and to the hot shaft that was still thickening. Joe rumbled in pleasure.

"Perhaps she's right about me lallygagging around, or my dad about me needing to not let myself get too carried away with the ladies. Still..." Charles pulled Mr. Beltrami's black cock out of the leg of his shorts. His mouth was watering, and he was now sporting his own tent. He bent forward a bit, only to be stopped by his teacher.

"Nope, nope, nope, not here, son. Wait until we get inside."

Charles sighed, shaking his head a little glumly even as a grin started to tug on his muzzle.

"We can leave it out for you to look at though. We're far enough away from the fences that I think we'll be fine. You have to show me yours, though." Mr. Beltrami picked up the net of soccer balls and placed them on the other side of them, blocking the side view of them to the far off fences. The other side faced the brick wall of the gymnasium. He had also scooted so that he faced Charles. It would have looked from afar like a simple student-teacher powwow, something Mr. Beltrami was known for anyway. The older fox reached over and up his student's leg, and with some difficulty, pulled out Charles' huge, rigid member.

"God, that thing looks good," Joe said, shaking his head and grasping it firmly. "I wish we could just do it here. We gotta go camping, you and I. There's nothing like sex in the wild."

"You have no idea how much I'd like to find out if it's true," Charles said with a slight pant as Joe's paw slowly stroked up and down.

"I'm sure I'll find out in good time." He let the cock go and looked up. "Now, have you heard back from Juilliard or the London conservatory?"

Charles shook his head, occupying his paws with a soccer ball again. He still could hardly take his eyes off of their erections. "Not yet. I should any day now. Maybe when I get home. The suspense is killing me. I want to stay here, but the London Conservatory would be such a good opportunity. If I go, my grandfather has agreed to let me stay with him. He lives in London, so I can just take the Underground. He's fond of me, and I actually miss him myself since he moved back to England. I'd rather live with him anyway. Some of my mother's family is living in London, too, but they are more traditional. The grandfather I was talking about is my dad's dad. They are quite a lot alike actually. I'd rather have my own place, but that would be really expensive. I want to be able to completely focus on my music if I go overseas."

"Don't worry about me, Charles. I'll be here when you come home to visit. It's only a few years, and then you can move back permanently, unless you want to stay in England." Joe's big, bushy tail playfully batted Charles'.

The young red fox chuckled, shrugging, and petted his teacher's tail affectionately. "Who knows? I kind of doubt it, though. I really prefer New York, much as I love London. My family is all here, and I don't think I'd like living so far away, even if I have other family in England who would be thrilled to have me nearby. It would also make visiting family in Syria easier, that's for sure. I still have a great-grandmother there I'd like to meet, but I don't speak any Arabic."

"Don't worry about all that yet. We can't predict the future anyway. Life will unfold as it will," the older fox said sagely, taking Charles' paw in his and looking at him in the face with great affection.

Charles met Joe's gaze and was startled by its depth. He knew the man liked him, but it was the first time he had ever really suspected that Joe actually cared for him more deeply, that perhaps the fox even loved him as a friend or a kind of surrogate son. The revelation suddenly made his throat tighten as he held back the urge to tear up. Instead he bent forward suddenly and hugged Joe tightly. It had caught the older man off guard, but his powerful arms soon enfolded the young fox all the same. Gently he petted Charles' ears, smiling as they shared a quiet minute in each other's arms.

"I'll miss you a lot if I have to live in London," Charles said, and he could not hide the slight sob in his tone. "I don't want to be alone with this, especially without knowing I'll be safe. What if my granddad were to find out? He'd tell my folks, and what if they want nothing to do with me? I'd be homeless and broke!" He was actually trembling now, tears forcing their way out of his eyes.

Joe tightened his grip around the young fox, his face resolute. "You'll have me. If anything goes wrong, you call me. I'll fly you home if need be, and you'll live with me until you can get on your feet." He pulled back a bit. "Hey, look at me, son." He waited until the frightened fox complied, his muzzle damp with tears. "I promise you. I'm here." He picked up his shirt and used it to wipe away the moisture. "I'm very fond of you, Charles. I guess I've come to see you a bit like a son...with some fringe benefits, I guess you'd say," Joe said with a wink as he reached down again and gave Charles' flaccid but still generous sex a squeeze.

Charles started laughing in spite of himself, finding the description as amusing as he did arousing. He was no longer shaking, at least not out of fear of familial rejection. It was an immense comfort to hear what Joe had to say, and it gave Charles a certain peace of mind that was not there prior. He sincerely hoped, however, that even if he were found out, that he would not be cast out of his family.

"Joe?" Charles asked, turning serious again. "Do you think my folks would reject me? I mean, I know you don't really know them that well, but..."

Joe sighed. "I don't know, Charles," he said dejectedly, wishing he could give more certain an answer. "You're right, I don't know them. Still, something tells me your father might be more open than you think. He strikes me as a fair and level-headed man. I'm not saying he will like the news, but I somehow don't see him as the kind to explode with anger like a bull in a china shop."

Charles nodded. "That's not Dad's way at all. Mom's more fiery than he is. I get my cool from his side." They were now just sitting close again, looking to any viewer from afar like they were having a private student-teacher discussion. "He has such high hopes pinned on me. Everyone does, from home to school, on both sides of the Atlantic. I don't like all the pressure, but I guess I can't blame them either. I know I'm good at music. I know I'm exceptionally good, and that's not vanity speaking." "No, it's not." Joe shook his head. He often attended school performances of all kinds, and he had heard Charles' playing on piano as well as his singing voice in the school choir. To hear him, it was self-evident to all that he was particularly gifted. "You got the talent to go as far as you want, so you might as well use it. Would you rather be some schmuck working a tollbooth on the New Jersey turnpike or a fat security guard working the graveyard shift when you could be cutting records and performing around the world?"

"Couldn't I just be an accountant with a modest home and a wife?"

"Well, that's good, too, but is that what you want?"

Charles shook his head. "Not really. I don't even want the wife. Definitely not that. I love performing. I wonder if there are any bricklayers out there looking for a refined man." He grinned and started chuckling, feeling a bit silly for disclosing such a fantasy.

Joe gave his pupil's ear a playful tug with his teeth. "For a man like you, you'll need someone of your stature. A bricklayer's not a bad idea. I did that for a while when I was studying to become a teacher."

"Did any of them like classical music?" Charles wondered.

"Several did. A lot of Italians and Russians are very fond of opera and classical works. Of course, that was then. Things are a bit different now, the various ethnicities becoming a bit less ethnic with each generation. It was a big Russian bear from Azerbaijan that was my first. He was twice my age and actually a pretty generous fellow. Good cook, too." He thought back fondly on those times, his cock rising again as he thought of the pronounced pouch the bear had when he squatted down.

"Coach, I think we should take ourselves inside," Charles interrupted, his paw stroking up and down Joe's hard cock.

The arctic fox looked down and shook his head. "Damn, and I really wanted to lay out in the sun for a while. Actually, I'd like to do it naked..." He paused, a grin spreading over his muzzle as the seed of an idea formed.

"What is it, Joe?" the young Anglo-Syrian fox wondered as Joe's musk began to grow stronger.

"We will lay in the sun," he said as he stuffed himself back into his shorts and stood up. "Come on, make yourself decent as you can." He picked up the net of soccer balls and flung them over his shoulder before leading the way back inside the gym.

"Where are we going?" Charles inquired with excitement and a bit of uncertainty as they neared the double doors. He was not keen to go back inside, even if it was for sex. He wanted to be outside in the air and the soft grass.

"The roof," Joe answered with a wide grin. He quickly deposited the balls in the equipment storage room and then went over to a stack of gym mats. "Go into my office and get some towels, son, then come back into the gym. Oh, you'll also see in my little fridge my bag lunch. I didn't get around to eating today. Pick it up along with some drinks for us both."

Charles scurried off to do what he was told and came back out to find Joe holding a large, folded tumbling mat under one arm. Finally, he was beginning to get an idea of what his teacher had in mind.

"Follow me." Joe led them over to the bleachers and up the stairs to the walkway that went around the perimeter of the gymnasium. They turned at the top of the stairs and headed to a locked door located near a corner of the building. Ancient stenciled paint on the door read "Roof Access." Joe fished into his pocket for his keys. He was sporting a full erection now, and the front of his shorts were damp with his pre. Opening the door, he ushered Charles in and soon followed. The door slammed loudly behind them as they climbed the stairs in darkness. Joe used his foot on the bar to unlatch the door and push it open, and both foxes momentarily squinted as the light suddenly flooded in. Stepping out onto the gymnasium roof, Charles looked around curiously. The expanse was bigger than he had expected. The wind was a touch stronger at that height, but it was pleasant. He was about to amble over to a nearby edge to look out and down when Joe called him to follow again. The arctic fox led him over to what Charles could tell was the wall of the classroom portion of the school which rose another story above the gym. There was an old wrought iron ladder that led up to its roof, and he watched with a smirk as Joe began ascending it one-pawed. Having to go slow meant that Charles could stare at Joe's ass and the heavy bulge from below. He groped himself openly as he watched. Halfway up, Joe looked down and smirked. "I thought you'd be enjoying this. In a minute, you'll get to see more. Hardly anyone ever comes up here, but I sometimes do just to be alone and enjoy the view. It's nice, and we're above anything else in the immediate vicinity. Come on."

Soon they both reached the top, a roof much like the one above the gym. Joe was already laying down the tumbling mat and unfolding it. It would provide ample cushioning for their purposes. The older fox then lowered his shorts and jock in one go and stepped out of them so he now stood completely naked in front of Charles. He reached down to fluff his fur and generally play lewdly with himself. "Feels good, I'm telling ya. Why don't you make yourself comfortable, son, and join me on the mat. We'll share my lunch and enjoy the beautiful weather, and then we can have dessert. Sound good to you?"

Charles did not think he could get any harder, and he was starting to hurt from his confinement. Not needing to be further convinced, he put down the towels and food and quickly stripped his clothing off until he too was completely bared. He was surprised as the breeze wafted soothingly through the fur on his midsection that was so often covered. Closing his eyes, he let his head tilt back and simply enjoyed the sensation. He felt so free just to be able to stand outside naked like that. "I'm can't remember if I've ever experienced anything like this before," the young vulpine said softly as he looked back to find his teacher already digging into the brown paper bag.

"Really? That's too bad," the grey fox lamented as he unwrapped a large, meaty sandwich, tore it in half as best he could, and set it down on the flattened lunch sack. There was a baggie of corn chips and two plums along with two cans of ginger ale. "We definitely have a few things to remedy. All foxes should be able to experience being naked like this. We foxes, as well as wolves and felines, need more representation. We're not collectively so uptight about nudity as some others are." He elevated his nose a bit before taking a large bite out of his sandwich.

"Amen," Charles agreed as he plopped down and picked up his half. Neither of them were totally hard anymore, but they certainly could not be considered soft either. "Thanks for the food, Joe. I was feeling hungry. They don't feed us enough in the cafeteria, not by a long shot. It's a contravention of human rights, I tell you."

"Eating the cafeteria lunches is a contravention of human rights," Joe corrected him pointedly. "Too bad your mother isn't still making you lunches. No fox would let their children eat the shit they make there. Why aren't you making you own?"

Charles' ears splayed back a bit as he opened his soda. "It's hard getting up that early," he answered, feeling as petulant as his response. "Besides, Mom does make my lunches still. She sends them with my sister who's two grades bellow me. It's often a salad, pita bread, hummus, some fruit, grape leaves, stuff that doesn't require so much refrigeration. She thinks meat will spoil before I get to lunch, so she never gives me a good meaty sandwich. I still get hungry and sometimes can't help myself."

Joe narrowed his eyes slightly. "Well, help it. There're some things that just aren't right. If you're still hungry, go across the street to the diner. There's also that one a block from the subway. It's a bit further afield, but it's lines are shorter as fewer students care to walk the extra distance. Lazy louts."

"I just know you'll call her if you catch me," Charles said with a sigh. "Fine, I'll go to the damn diner. I wish they'd at least provide a fridge and a microwave for us in the cafeteria. With a microwave, I could at least reheat some fava beans in tomato sauce and rice. I get tired of cold food all the time."

"You should have said something earlier," Joe said with a pained face. "I have both of those amenities. I would have been happy to share. Well, from here on out, just do that. You only have three weeks left of the year, but it's something. We probably won't be able to get so naughty as this, but it should still be nice." He grinned and opened his soda to take a drink.

"It's a date." Charles picked up one of the plums and took a big bite.

While the two foxes ate, they made light-hearted conversation and flirted while they sunbathed. As it was not yet midday, it was still getting warmer, and by three-thirty, it felt like the temperature had managed to reach at least eighty-three. It could not have been more pleasant and peaceful. They felt almost alone on the rooftop, and as they finished their food, they both secretly allowed themselves to pretend that they were lovers stealing a few blissful moments on the rooftop. The breeze was still gentle but cooled just enough without stealing too much of the sun's warmth. Charles' fur needed the sun, and his coat was already looking a bit richer for it. Even Joe's majestic gray fur seemed somehow more lively and inviting, and Charles could no longer resist leaning forward and burying his nose and muzzle in it.

Joe rumbled pleasantly and drew Charles closer with a meaty arm. "That's right, son. Papa's right here." He bent his muzzle down and gently kissed the teenage fox. It was a long, tender exchange, and soon Charles found himself on top of the older vulpine. He may have been the bigger fox, but Charles still took decided comfort in Joe's arms. He was feeling especially loving towards him today for his solidarity and friendship. A deep rumble vibrated from his broad figure as Joe's paws slowly caressed up and down his back, soothing and strong. Charles then felt his teacher's tongue running down his ear and along the nape of his neck with the occasional nip here and there. Holding the grey fox more tightly as that wonderful mouth made him moan, the young fox gently ground his erection along Joe's. They were greasing each other up nicely already, yet there was no hurry in their movements. For a long time, they simply rolled about, nuzzling and kissing each other, taking in each other's figures. Charles as always loved feeling Joe's mature bulk and muscle, his boxy physique, the look of his squared paws, and his manly scent. Joe enjoyed the freshness of his lover's youth, his eagerness, his sheer massiveness, his extraordinarily sizable manhood, and his ego reveled in being found so uncontrollably alluring. He had never himself understood until he got older why men his age often fantasized about younger lovers, and even though he still preferred big men, he in no way would deny how glad he was to have Charles so willing to lay down with him wherever they could.

"I hope they never pass a rule against being shirtless," Joe said as he gazed intently at Charles' shapely pectorals. He was on top now, sitting just above the Syrian fox's pelvis. Charles' cock was sticking up against the gym instructor's rump and along his tail, still leaking abundantly.

"You really like seeing us that way, eh?" Charles asked, surprised at such a candid remark from the man. Joe rarely liked to mix his personal sexual feelings with his job as a teacher. It still was a point of conflict within him just to enjoy himself with Charles.

Sighing, Joe nodded even as his paws continued rubbing over those muscles, his fingers leaving tracks in Charles' creamy white fur. "Teachers are not made of stone, though most everyone seems to think we are or should be. Just as students some times find us attractive, we sometimes find our students attractive. Anyone who says otherwise is a fucking liar. I didn't take this job to look at young men, though it is sometimes a perk."

Charles reached up and gently pulled Joe down to kiss him tenderly. "I know, coach. I would never imply otherwise."

"You sure you're okay with us doing this, son?" Joe asked for the millionth time.

"Ugh!" Charles let his head fall back against the mat, his eyes rolling. "For the last time, yes!" he exclaimed, his paws finding Joe's rump and giving them a squeeze. "Quit feeling guilty. I came on to you, remember?"

"And I didn't discourage it," he pointed out.

Charles looked flatly at the man. "You wanted to keep the lines of communication opened."

"As well as the possibility of something more, I think, on some level," Joe pressed, feeling more conflicted inside. "You caught my eye like few ever have."

"We were both playing with fire a bit, though especially me," Charles countered, sounding a little impatient now. "You know how lonely it can be for a kid like me, so you didn't discourage my displays. It let me in on the fact that you might share it and thus be sympathetic and safe to talk to. That's meant a lot to me. Maybe it's a somewhat base way to reach out, but it's not like we have a hell of a lot of options open to us. Did you really think I would just come up and tell you I was gay without a pretty good idea how you might react? Telling you outright that one snowy day on the field was one of the most impetuous and risky things I have ever done in my life. My dick was pushing me more, but don't think that my psyche wasn't relieved to know that I had a trustworthy ally."

Joe sat quietly for a while as he thought, studying his pupil's eyes, trying to read him accurately and grateful that Charles was wearing his feelings earnestly on his face. "Do people really trust me that much, do you reckon?"

Charles realized the man needed to ask, even if he already had a pretty good idea what the answer was. "Yeah, you are. Everyone knows they can come to you. You'll forgive me for taking extra time, though."

The grey fox chuckled and gave his red-furred companion a lick on the nose. "Thanks. I needed to hear that. I understand, too. I hope in the future, though, that students can come out to me more easily and without having to resort to cruising techniques. It's infuriating what prejudice sometimes forces us to do," he growled ruefully.

Charles' first inclination was to joke about how he had rather enjoyed the process overall before his sensible side reminded him of all the years of fear, uncertainty, anxiety, secretiveness, and endless agonizing over how everyone he knew would react if he was discovered. The payoff in such a scenario had certainly been incredible, but he had also been supremely lucky. Joe was absolutely right; their experience was a great injustice, forcing them into often compromising situations that exacted real costs. He kicked himself inwardly for his cavalierness, finally understanding what Arthur and Joe (or even Mrs. Nemtsova) meant when they said that he could be more discreet. Foxes liked to skirt danger as a rule, but there were limits.

"Oh, I'm sorry, kiddo," Joe rumbled as he embraced his friend tightly. "I know you're still figuring a lot of stuff out. Maybe you want me to be a rock, an anchoring, and I try to be as much as I can. I'm human after all, though, just like you."

"I know, Joe," Charles said dejectedly. "It's hard to remember sometimes. I guess that's why you call us children, right? We don't have your experience."

The older fox nodded solemnly. "Yes. That's why I take my job so seriously. I'm not just an athletic and health instructor. I also have to be an example of quality adulthood for all of you. I have to be able to guide you in whatever way I can. I love teaching and mentoring. I love being a teacher, in spite of the way the profession is gradually going down the crapper. I do regard it as a sacred duty and trust even if others don't. Call me a sentimental fool -- heaven knows, others have." He rolled his eyes. "But it's what I believe in. I know the huge difference it can make in a person's life, and I know how devastating it can be to lack it." He closed his eyes for a moment, obviously thinking of his parents and trying not to let it get to him. "I could kill my damn father. I'm still very angry with him. He was a lousy father on the whole even if he wasn't really abusive or awful as a person. He just wasn't a good father, and then when I needed his understanding more than ever, he threw me out on my ear. Fucking asshole."

"I'm sorry, Joe," was all Charles could think to say, and it sounded pathetic to him.

"I know, son." The grey fox leaned down and nuzzled the red fox again. "Do you see now, though, why I've been so conflicted about us? I care about you, and I want to do right by you. I can't undo anything we've done, and I have to live with it. But God knows, I love what we do! I don't think you'll be damaged by any of this, frankly." He allowed a smirk to cross his muzzle. "I just hope it better enables you to see where I'm coming from."

Charles nodded slowly. "Yes, I think it does. Joe?"

"Yes, son?" "Is it all right just to have sex and nothing more?"

"Of course. Sometimes it's all you're really looking for. Just make sure you and your partner are on the same page about it," the gym teacher confirmed simply.

"Can friendship really grow from sex? Does friendship have to come first?"

Joe tilted his head back and forth in a gesture that bespoke of how it could go both ways. "Depends. I've made good friends with men that started as mere sex. I've had one or two friendships go south because we had sex eventually. Relationships are unpredictable, and they succeed or fail due to many factors. I wouldn't focus overmuch on sex -- or any other factor. Sex and friendship are perfectly compatible, I think. At least, I find that to be true among gay men. We can't take so many things for granted as straight people and have to reevaluate the rules to see what works for us. I find things are more flexible than I had thought as a young man. I'm still learning, actually. I've never been with anyone as young as you, Charles. You can be rather sensible for an eighteen-year-old, and I'm grateful for it."

"Still, I've got a lot to learn."

Joe nodded. "You never stop learning, son -- unless you're a dumb ass who never cared to begin for a start. I deal with enough of those, let me tell you. You should see some of the idiot troglodytes I've taught over the years." He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Were any of them hot?" Charles asked with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"Ugh, no. But then, I've never found morons alluring." Smiling, he fixed a dashing smile over his muzzle and leaned down slowly for a third time, his paw slowly inching up and stroking alone the ridge of Charles' snout. "I'm more of the middle-aged bricklayer looking for a refined man type. Know what I mean?" He kissed Charles passionately, making the young fox moan lustily as his penis began to come alive again.

When Charles had the use of his mouth again, he just lay there looking dazzled. "Oh, don't tempt me, Joe. I know we can't be an item, even after graduation. Even I get that I'm too young for you, but thanks for letting me know that there may be others out there just waiting for me when I get a few more years of experience under my belt."

"Sure, son. I'm fond of you, ya know. I guess I even love you. You've become a good young friend to me, and I'm glad to know you. I hope we'll have a long friendship."

"Me, too." Charles smiled brightly up at the coach. "You certainly like to call me son."

"You certainly like to hear me call you son," Joe replied as he raised himself up enough to let Charles' cock flop between his legs and smack his chest. Settling back down, Joe reached down and took hold of them both and stroked slowly, bringing their hot lengths firmly together.

Charles let out another low moan as one of his paws took hold of Joe's tail at its base. "That I do. You ever think of any of your students as sons or daughters?"

He nodded affirmatively. "Sometimes. Sometimes I like to fancy myself a surrogate father figure. I would have liked to have children of my own. I really would have. That really wasn't possible, though, unless I was willing to get a wife. That wouldn't have been fair to anyone, though." "Sometimes I like to think of you as a surrogate father figure," Charles admittedly with a blush.

Joe chuckled in amusement while also looking extremely flattered. "You must have some interesting daddy issues. I know that you're close to your father and that he's a fine man. Attractive, too. You got the hots for your own dad, Charles?"

The young vulpine looked away, unable to keep his muzzle twitching up in a smile of embarrassment and blushing harder.

"Ah, I thought so. I don't blame you. I think that's natural. I mean, most sons are supposed to, at some point, be attracted to their own mothers, right? At least that's what some of the shrinks say, from what I've heard. Why shouldn't a gay son be attracted to his own father instead?"

"You really think we're supposed to, developmentally, be attracted to one of our parents during our maturing years?" Charles asked, looking skeptical.

"I don't know, son. I think that might have been Freud who proposed that. It sounds like the sort of thing he'd say somehow. He was wrong about a lot of things -- or so I've read."

"This isn't helping, Joe." "Sorry, son." He laughed gently. "So you think your dad's handsome? Big deal. Truth is, kids do sometimes get crushes on parents. It doesn't always happen, but sometimes it does. I think it's just Nature or it wouldn't happen. Kind of like us being gay. Of course, what isn't part of Nature? If Nature is just the Universe, then what can be apart from it?"

Charles' mouth dropped open and his eyes went wide. "Holy shit, I'd never thought of that! That's got to be the best argument I've ever heard for homosexuality being natural."

"I got the idea from this lion I see sometimes. He's a librarian in the City. You'd love him! He combines bricklayer, blacksmith, British Ph.D. philosopher, sensitive artist, and sex maniac all into one package! Holy shit!"

"I'm leaking already!"

Joe chuffed as he gave them another squeeze. "You've been leaking. What are you talking about?"

"So we're not so unnatural then, are we?"

"Naw. 'What seems unnatural is also natural,' he said. I think it's from the Vedas or some Indian religious scripture."

"Hmmm..." Charles' paws were again cupping his teacher's ass, pulling his pelvis more against his own as Joe slowly jacked them off. "Man, Dad, you have amazing paws. Dad, Dad, Dad..."

"Yes, keep calling me that, son," Joe purred back. "Tell me, you ever seen your ol' man naked?"

Joe was not usually one for dirty talk, but this sounded at the moment enough like it to Charles; and it was turning him on. "Yeah, a few times at the Y."

"Is that where you get this from?" He gave Charles' cock a pull, his free paw cupping their huge balls together.

Biting his lip, the fox groaned as he clenched, trying to egg himself on. Joe had been edging him for a while. "I'm bigger than anyone else in my family by far -- in all ways, as far as I know. I've also seen two of my uncles, also at the Y. Where I got this, I have no idea. My father was certainly shocked to see it when I flashed him." He grinned as Joe stopped stroking them at that admission.

"What?"

"Yeah, it'd been a while since Dad'd seen me. He thought I was stuffing my underwear -- this was after I got fitted undergarments. Well, he wouldn't believe that it was natural, so I stood up and pulled my pants down. He just stood there and gawked for a while. He couldn't believe his eyes. I think he was proud, though."

Joe nodded. "You've gotten a lot of looks for that thing. Nice problem to have, eh, son?"

"Oh yeah..." Charles' eyes were screwed shut as he felt himself getting close again, his hips bucking as best they could from under Joe's weight on his body. "Dad, let me cum..."

"In good time, my boy." Joe was getting close, too, but he wanted to tease the young fox some more. "You ever think about your dad when you masturbate?"

Charles blushed again, not answering.

"Come on, Charles, tell me. Do ya?" He leaned down so his scent was closer to the young man's nose.

"Yes," Charles finally admitted. He did find his father attractive and had always liked looking at him at the YMCA. He had been thinking of asking him to go swimming like they used to in part so he could see the man's dick again.

"What do you like to imagine?" The grey wolf was stroking quicker now. He could feel how full Charles' balls were, and the young man's pheromones were really potent.

"I wanna jack off with him. I wanted him to reach out and touch me in my room that day I showed him my cock!" he cried out in a guttural moan, his cock leaning profusely and so close to shooting. He just wanted to fire off so badly.

"You wonder what his cock tastes like?" Joe asked, now having to hold back even as he was spurting pre that was surely mixed with at least some semen now.

"Yes, yes! I wanna suck my dad's cock! Ahhh!" Suddenly, Charles just started exploding, his shots coming up well above their heads or smacking Joe right in the muzzle. It also set off the coach, and Joe was soon joining his pupil in a raging orgasm, the two of them showering each other and roaring like beasts. Once they were spent and had thoroughly painted each other, they took a momentary respite, Joe rolling off and onto his back, panting alongside Charles.

"That was quite a show, son."

"Holy shit, no kidding!" Charles answered breathlessly. "I've barely admitted any of that to myself. I can't believe I just did to you. You really liked it?"

A grin spread over the grey fox's muzzle as he started chuckling. "Yeah, I did. Guess you and I get off on a lot of the same things."

A part of Charles was not sure if those fantasies were entirely healthy, but then he thought back to that Indian saying Joe had mentioned. Maybe it was his sex-riddled state, but Charles decided to take the opinion that maybe he should just treat fantasies as mere fantasies and not attach too much meaning to them. He wanted to enjoy himself, and it had been an exceptional release. His chances of having sex with his father were virtually impossible, so if Joe could serve in that capacity instead, Charles could see no harm in it.

"You ever fantasized about your dad, coach?"

"Sometimes when I was young. My dad was kind of unremarkable in the looks department as far as my tastes go, and after our falling out, there was no longer anything to find attractive," Joe answered mater-of-factly.

Charles stretched his body long and luxuriously. "Man, it feels so good being out under the sun like this. I feel so free! Sometimes being in New York, you can feel so trapped with seven million other people packed in at over thirty thousand souls per square mile here in Brooklyn."

Joe nodded in understanding. "It's the price we pay for living here. Best city on earth, in my opinion. I don't miss Philly at all. Well, maybe sometimes, but not usually. Still, getting out of town is good for the soul sometimes. I really want to take you camping. I got a friend with a small house in Upsate along the Hudson. It's really quiet, private. It's nice. You can hang out naked all you like, and there's no one to see you. He lets me use it freely. Good guy."

"You guys like to hang out naked together?"

Joe laughed. "Yep, we do! We've been friends for years, but he lives a pretty low-key life. He's a divorcé but still in the closet to his family. We all have our reasons to get away, and sometimes you need it for your head. I wanna take you there after graduation. I want to show you a good time, son. I want you to taste some real physical freedom, and I want to spend time with you as much as I can before you go off to study in Europe."

"I don't know if I'll be studying in London yet," Charles reminded him.

"Yeah, I know, but you're pretty good. I think it's a likely thing. I don't want to waste time." He reached over and took Charles' paw in his, holding it tenderly. "My son's all grown up. I know you'll make me proud, Charles."

That sounded more than half serious to the young fox, but instead of resenting the expectations for once, he happily obliged the older vulpine and squeezed his paw back. "I'll do my best, Dad."

"That's all I ask -- and that you be happy in whatever you do. You gotta love what you do. That's why I teach. It has given my life meaning for many a year. I wouldn't give it up for anything -- except maybe a palazzo in Tuscany with a fortune to live off of until I die. You gotta have your priorities right when exceptionally good fortune comes your way." He laughed heartily, and Charles joined him eagerly, his cock hard again at the thought of them enjoying each other's bodies in the solitude of a picturesque landscape.