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My name's Christopher and I'm a former Liadexus gay porn star. That would be a neat start to one of those addiction meetings, don't ya' think?

That vulpic word thingy means "mixed tail". So to you and all in foxdom, that translates as I fucked anyone; I wasn't picky. Some of the guys I worked with would only screw vulps, some would only hump their own kind; fuck knows why?! I still miss it though. I went from fucking for a living, to fucking my living, if you see what I mean. I'll get into more of this later.

Now as far as where I start explaining all this, it has to be the nth sleepless night of many where I just sat at home ringing job listings in the paper. Oh and this was by candlelight; the electric company aren't particularly sympathetic when you can't pay. It's heartbreaking looking for anything and everything that can put food in your belly and a roof over your head. No matter what it was, it was given the biro treatment and I'd have a list of phone numbers by the morning. I had just enough colour on my tail to make a few short-distance scentlight calls; otherwise I'd be walking.

So anyway, I got a call back from one of them; nothing special, believe me! But nevertheless, I took a few deep breaths, slapped on a smile and accepted the interview. And OK so like I said, it wasn't gonna' be glamorous; this was a bog-standard cleaning job. Full time, with limited colour benefits and minimal holiday; but hey, it was work. The interview was in May'iard on the vulpic/lupic border; and fuck me was it excruciating?! But I was forty-two, fuckless, jobless and oh so fucking hopeless; so I had to just grit my teeth and bear it all for want of a pay check and increased colour grade on my scent.

The interviewer? Oh fuck me! He was like this haggard fifty-something fox with a moth-eaten tail; untrusting, cold little wanker. You know the type?! And with all the questions and the standard tail droop check, he kept referring to me as Mr Conifer all fucking day. And I'm like trying to ignore this whilst trying to hint that it's actually Canafir. Didn't work; he just nodded and smiled like I was fucking with him or some shit. So like the good little wolven tree I am - I'm awful aren't I? - I just got on with it, wondering all the while whether he'd been a bitch of mine in a previous life.

I reckon it was my CV that had made him suspicious; and I will admit, it _is_eyebrow-raising if you've never interviewed or seen the papers of an ex adult actor.

And so what line of work have you been in before?

Well for the past twenty five years, I've been tail-lifting and stretching tight little tailholes for shitloads of cash

Nah, I didn't really say that; but I wanted to.

Well anyway, much suspicion and tons of doubting looks later, I had the job in the bag. I was over the moon about it in some ways, but not in so many others. I do long for those days back when I went into work; first my very personal P.A, then a tail-groom and then a tight little fox arse. Then after a few hours on set, it'd be a nice hot shower, a bottle of wine, a fag and a big fat cheque.

It's these memories that have kept me going all this time, and they still do. I reminisce as I'm paws-deep in tailbaths, urinals and whatever else they ask me to scrub.

I guess I was lucky that I had paid off my mortgage before it all came down around me, otherwise I'd have been homeless pretty quick.

You mind if I just take a seat? Crouching down to do these blasted floors is crucifying my paws. Cheers.

Anyway, yeah so I get questioned constantly. They'd be all like...

If you were so financially secure, how come you're here scrubbing away at minimum wage?

Well I'll tell ya' why. This stupid old wuff got addicted to scents and alcohol. Sure I'd pay my bills at home, but the majority of it went up my nose or in my muzzle. Fuck, I must've spent thousands, hundreds of thousands on wine, spirits, scent and paws only knows what! I was fucking high half the time, and just plain fucking for the remainder. I was always sober in the studio, but trashed when I was behind closed doors.

Now you have to remember, I'd been in this business since I was like seventeen. I grew up in a relatively liberal household where my father was a beta Union rep, and my mum was a tail groomer. And I don't think it ever struck them as something evil that there baby cub was off to ply his decidedly dodgy trade in the southern Vulpic territories. I mean heck, they even held a farewell party for me when I got the contract.

How did it start off? Well I left school at sixteen at the blessing of the local alpha, and ended up in a local supermarket filling shelves. Yeah, in the frickin' wine aisle! That was temptation right off the bat. So anyway, one anonymous weekday I'm perched on one of those stool things reaching for the very top shelf when I hear someone make a rather abrupt comment.

It was something like...

Hey! Cute arse

And I just went desperately red in the muzzle and scoffed my way through a flattered thanks.

Sounds daft I know, but really that's how it started. The guy turned out to be a real famous vulp on holiday from Shof, and he'd been checking me out the whole time. I guess you will 'ave heard of him. Fen Tael? Familiar? I never did know whether that was his real name or not. Well anyway, we got chatting cos' I recognised him and was so thrilled to have met him in person. He was only a couple o' years older than me, but I'd seen him in the adult magazines that I hid from my parents; and I mean, wow. He was so fuckin' sexy! Beautiful pelt and bright eyes and the longest, cuddliest tail you could ever have wished for. Such a charmer in real life too. I might've been much taller and better built, but it didn't stop me recognising what a catch he was.

So you can imagine how fuckin' chuffed I felt when he gave me his card and a scent trail number to the studio in Shof where he'd been working. I was floating for the rest of the day, and couldn't wait 'til the weekend when I'd have the time to travel down.

So, long story short, I went, loved it and ended up being signed within a week. I met all my cubhood fantasies, and by Spring eighty-eight would be head-over-tail to learn that I'd be "working" with every last one of them. I had everything going for me. I was the latest in a long line of the next best thing.

With this stunning cast, and myself acting under the alias Kit Caena, we produced some of the highest scent-rated films of all time. I bet you've heard of some of 'em too. Knots Landing? Kitt-ed Out? Faux-Fuck one through four? Oh wow, that last one was the bollocks! Had me all made-up like a fox, and I got to take it under the tail for a change. Fuckin' incredible!

You're gonna' get me all distracted here.

Anyway, I was having the time of my fucking life. I wasn't the only lupe on set, and was lucky enough to work with GG Greyson who was not only Fen's equivalent North of the border, but also his lover. I mention him not for the fact that he made me squeal every time he stuck his huge cock up my tailhole, but that he was just such a cool guy. Huge in all aspects, but cool.

Which was why what happened later, slayed me as much as it must've wrecked him. Fen was killed in a car crash in the summer of ninety-four, and it just destroyed me and the rest of the crew. I got wasted to blot out the pain. I never did work with Greyson again; he quit straight away. I carried on or struggled on rather, and still had fun. But none of it was the same without that cute little fox.

It seemed to get better as time passed, but my addictions just got worse. Although I was still not bringing them into the workplace, my home life was becoming hell. My eyesight had worsened, and I was forced to wear glasses. Irritating fucking things perched on my muzzle, like they fuckin' own me! I don't like them much as you can gather.

I also hadn't been able to hold down a decent relationship for any more than a few months, because they'd inevitably discover that I'd be using their scent and money for buying harder and harder poisons. And now the bailiffs were calling.

Then like a couple of years back, I was sat at home in a rare sober moment - don't have any pre-conceptions, because if it wasn't alcohol it was probably self-pity - and the phone rang with a rather ominous black scent.

They were pretty blunt.

Look Kit, you're forty and showin' it. You just can't cope with the pace any more.

So they go on to apologise, but ultimately gave me the proverbial boot.

_ _And here I am, two years later with a job in cleaning and the faded memories of better times still pinned to the walls at home. I have everything from pin-ups to photos, celluloid to VHS, and even underwear. Still gets me off even now.

And don't go all ewwwww you're old! I fuckin' workout every day, and for forty-plus, I have a tail and body of a wolf half my age. I'm a lot better off now too; someone rather special basically slapped me around the muzzle and got my shit back together.

I know you'd like to hear this tale too. You've got time, right? Cool.

So I started this job in early twenty-twelve with all the enthusiasm of a cub on the evening before school re-starts after the holidays. I was assigned a set of places to clean at certain times of the day between nine and five; mating booths one to five along the river in the morning, and those posh flats on the top floor of King's Plaza in the centre of town in the afternoon.

It wasn't so bad I guess; it wasn't exactly brain science. So there I am, this buff wuff dressed in dark blue overalls and pushing my little cart along, piled high with plastic bags and polish and fuck knows what. Kind of mortifying at first, but I thought about the pay at the end of the month and a happier life without the debt, and it made each day a lot more bearable.

So yeah, I'd get to know the ins and outs of each little place and would eventually get to know who frequented each flat or booth. And there was one, one cute little tail who caught my eye. Well, I say caught my eye, I mean pissed me off to the extent that I resolved that all he needed was a good hard dicking! Put him in his place, you know what I mean!?

He was pretty much the only one I bumped into with regularity, and I got to know what a self-absorbed, spoilt little brat he was. It all started on a day in late January when I got to the last apartment in King's Plaza, the penthouse - and from the smell of the corridor outside, it was obvious someone was in. So I just knock and let them know that I'm here to clean, and just get silence. I pad on in, and there's still silence; so I'm emptying bins and cleaning surfaces, minding my own business.

Then this dark red-furred vulp waltzes in from the bedroom, towel around his waist and a fag dangling from his muzzle; and there's this half-dressed vixen in tow who looked like she'd been round the block a few dozen times, if you know what I mean. He fucking stinks o' sex, and with just this righteous fucking look on his maw bids his girlfriend goodnight; it was like he was trying to prove somethin'.

Not sure why he'd do it to me. I wasn't anything in his eyes, apparently.

He'd be all like...

Cleaning guy! Bedroom needs doin'. Don't forget the sheets this time.

Cheeky little fuck! I wanted to smack him; but I complied. Not worth my job for it. He was the kind of character who'd turn an innocent, non-descript question into something that revolved around him, his life and his extravagance.

Did you want me to give the kitchen a once over?

Sure thing, whatever. I need it clean for that party I'm hosting on Friday night for all the execs at the bank.

Or it might be...

Did you need anything else, sir?

Nah, I have everything already, cleaning guy. If I don't already have it, I will do soon.

And that was apparently supposed to be funny. He'd laugh at his own jokes, boast about his job and his promotions, and swish his tail round like the fucking little diva he was.

I'm squeezing this disinfectant bottle right now like it was his neck. I should stop.

But anyway, so he was a bag of fun. Equally as annoying as he was perplexing. I guess I prayed that one day I might unravel his worthless, sordid little life; and oh boy, someone must've been looking down on me, because it all just fell into my paws.

Come February, I was allowed to call him by his first name, even though he still called me cleaning guy. And the females he used to "entertain" kept on coming; until one night that is. Like I said, it wasn't unusual for me to come to Filico's flat - that was his name by the way - and get fuck all reply when I knocked. But it was strange that there wasn't anyone but him on the air; no other scent, no smell, no nothin'.

I pad on in and start to clean, until my ears are filled with this soft sobbing. I thought I was going fucking crazy at first, and just got back to what I was paid to do; but it kept going and I realised that it was coming from the bedroom. I leant around the door and saw this once brash fox crying his heart out. There was no sign of anyone being with him, and he was fully clothed for once.

I nervously ventured a cough to get his attention, and he looked up with this heartbreaking look on his muzzle. He'd been crying for hours. He started out with...

Oh... uh, hi cleaning guy. I... I don't need the bedroom doing tonight. I....

And then he broke down again.

Are you ok?

He just shook his head and leant forward, sobbing. I felt really bad for him, and went over to sit beside him for a while. And I'm not really sure why, but I just melted; the little bastard had been so mean to me in the past few weeks. I mean, I was old enough to be his Dad and bless 'im that's what he needed; or at least, that's what I figured.

I put a paw around his shoulders, and tried to get to what was making him so upset. It all came out gradually amidst all the tears and the sniffling; he hadn't been with any of those females at all. He'd paid them to be with him for the evening in a fucking desperate effort to prove to himself that he wasn't what he knew he was deep down.

I'd get off on scent as they go down on me. But that... that's all. Nothin' more.

This was a pretentious, sweet young fox desperate to live up to his father's expectations; and he was covering up his true nature with scent, deceit and pomposity. That female scent sign would be seen on his 4pawz phone, and he could brag about how many he'd bedded to his family, friends and to whoever would give him the time of day.

I'm gay... I just really hate myself for it, ya' know.

And this bemused me. Well it's easy for me to say, I know; but I wasn't about to let him throw all this away just to live a lie.

There's nothing wrong with that, you know. I mean... I'm gay. And it's cool, you'd really enjoy it. Just give yourself a chance for once, yeah?

You... you're gay too?

Mhm.

And we exchanged a smile as he dried his eyes, whilst my dumb old tail thought we'd actually made progress. I can really walk head long into things sometimes!

You don't look gay

And now I'm kind of regretting being where I was.

Well I don't go around with a label wrapped around my tail.

I would guess not. You're just a cleaner after all.

So I was like, what?!! Where the fuck does this little tyke get off?! He had that scoffing smirk across his muzzle again, and I was beginning to wonder whether he'd been yankin' my tail the whole time just to piss with me or some shit.

I didn't even make anything of it. I think I just snarled at him, before I stormed out. To think that I'd actually taken pity on his useless tail just made me so angry. Can't remember whether I'd yelled anything in reply as I got my stuff and left; and if I had, it would've been making taut observations about his parentage and his profligacy. Big words for a wolf huh?!

Just a cleaner? Little cunt! I'd fuckin' show 'im. I'm pretty sure that's what I had rumbling through my head the whole evening, sitting squeezing the arms of the sofa at home until my claws drew slits in the fabric. Now you see, when I was a cub and I'd seen that I'd upset someone by what I'd said, I'd 'ave been mortified. This spoilt rich kid was just the opposite; I just got the feeling that he enjoyed inflicting pain on anyone and everyone to make up for what was missing in his life.

And trust me, seeing him again out of work was the last thing on my mind. I'd even started to clean the flats in the morning to avoid seeing him cheating himself with this bevy of hollowed-out pussy. It was annoying as it was upsetting to see a young fox who was not only in a whole world of denial, but totally in love with himself and the idea that he was irresistible no matter who he chose to be with.

OK don't get me wrong, he was a cutie; not denying that. Lithe little body and bright blue eyes; but a fucking sewer of a muzzle and mind.

I'd look at him and think, yeah, I'd fuckin' screw his tight little tailhole; so long as he kept his maw shut. Because no sooner was he talking, he was hurting someone. And that's just the biggest turn off, bar none!

So anyway, time wandered by and I think it was March or even April before I saw 'im again. Lucky me, right?!

Like I said, I was in no mood to see that muzzle again and would not have lamented ever seeing him ever again. But such is fate I guess. Strange old world, innit?

It was a Friday and I was perched on a bar stool in The Rust and Rune; neat little bar just off the high street. You should try it some time. Anyway, I'm mulling the week over what's left of my pint, muzzle tilted upward to catch the last ten minutes of the football, when you-know-who swishes in like he fuckin' owns the place! You know those times when you want to ignore someone, and you just can't? Well this was one of those times.

I remember someone saying to me something very apt about just an occasion, and when I turned to see Filico waltzing up to the bar, it fit perfectly.

A muzzle only a fist could love!

So fuckin' true! I just turned back and buried myself in my drink, consciously not making eye contact or anything. But I guess he must've noticed me; I am rather imposing even at my rickety old age. And I can't even remember what got us talking civilly; all I do remember is him calling me cleaning guy again. Fuck wit!

I do have a real name ya' know?!

Well quit leaving me in suspense!

Cheeky sod! I had this scowl on my muzzle now and it shut him up pretty sharpish. He had both paws wrapped almost in prayer around his glass; he was drinking... well, d'you know what, I have no idea what it was. No matter.

I had the chance to introduce myself for the first time in months, before he started to reel off all these apologies for how he'd been and what he'd said to me the other week. It got very tiring, very quick; and in the end I just put a paw in his muzzle and told him to stop. I didn't know whether to believe him this time or not; either way, he was pissing me off. Even apologetic he was annoying.

You're a whiny little bitch, ya' know that?!

I'd swivelled on my haunches now to face him; and I wasn't stopping either.

And besides, for what do I owe this pleasure anyway? Hm? I'm "just a cleaner" after all!

He just went on swigging nervously at his drink. And apparently the answer to that was he just thought he should say sorry. So I'm feeling so fuckin' charged by now, that I just grab the moment by the neck and told him exactly what I thought of 'im in the only way I know how.

D'you know who I am? Huh? Do you?

He just shook his head.

Well I'll tell ya' who! I may be old enough to be your daddy, but I sucked and fucked scrawny little sluts like you for a living. Twenty five fuckin' years, boy! I was shootin' porn before you were just a drip from your daddy's dick. I've had more hole than a doughnut skewer. And ya' know what? If you really wanna be what you know yourself to be, you'll follow me home tonight like a good little bitch and let me show you what the nights are for.

Cue collective jaw-drop!

Oh paws alive, I think back to that moment even now and giggle. There I am, six-foot-five forty-something wolf, ranting and raving at this five-foot-nothin' twenty-something virgin in the middle of a packed bar like I'm his dad for fuck sake!

Well not his dad... that'd be a fuckin' creepy exchange to have with your father anywhere. But ya' know what I mean.

So the whole bar had gone all quiet now, and I was all red in the muzzle having realised what I'd just shouted to all in foxdom. Whether anyone had clicked who I was once I'd said what I'd said, I will never know. And shit, even if they had, they would never have had the ounce to admit it.

Did it work? Oh fuck yes! It told me one thing straight away about this young vulp's life; no discipline. He'd been allowed to run riot as an only-cub. Too much freedom and too much money far too soon. He couldn't handle it; and with no one to rein him in, Filico had felt that he was unstoppable. And I'm not totally heartless; I did feel sorry for him on so many levels. After all, it wasn't his fault that his parents were cold, uninterested career freaks.

Didn't stop 'im making a sarcky comment about my little terraced home. He'd been remarkably compliant which made me realise how much he wanted to learn; but paws above, was he begging for it?!

I'd probably go as far as saying that Filico was so cocky, that he'd have the ounce to do anything - however fuckin' stupid - at least once. Like, oh I dunno, getting the quickest route to the hospital by walking up to me and calling me a tail-lifting faggot.

I'll never be a dad, but fuck me! Clueless parenting had lead to the production of this rich, stray closet case who had no idea how to live properly, treat others with respect or fulfil his own desires without feeling crushed by some looming patriarch. Hey, I'm really outdoing myself today; but I did have to look that one up in the dictionary. Durr!

So yeah, we pad on in and he's sniffing and sighing out loud as all he can see, paws forbid, is normality. No extravagance, no porter, no waiter, no fuckin' money! But hell's bells it's my home, and I was just gettin' myself back on my paws. Deep down I think he was shittin' 'imself, because I'd called him out and he was never ever the one to look a pussy in front of anyone. Even if it had been a bar full of strangers, Filico wasn't gonna' back down from what he saw as a challenge to his foxhood.

Don't think he knew where to put himself as I just made myself comfy on my sofa, footpaws up on the coffee table. If I remember correctly, he wandered over and sat on the sofa arm all sheepish like, paws cupped across his legs. And I can be pretty blunt when I need to be, so I wasted no time in asking him about what he _really_wanted.

Turns out he'd never been kissed, he'd never been held, and had only had a pawful of blowjobs that made him last like ten seconds flat. Poor sod! And the more he talked about it all, all the horrid one-nighters with these bitches off the street and the gay tail he'd look at while they sucked, the more he would brighten up and seem like a half-decent young fox. So I decide to put him on the spot!

Did you wanna find out what it's really like?

And I know what you're thinking. I wasn't taking advantage of this guy. And besides, he was the fuckin' cocky full-o-himself one; if he hadn't wanted what I was about to do, he sure as fuck would've had it in him to tell me.

So yeah, I pulled him closer to me and we fell into a kiss. He was ever so nervous bless 'im, but he soon relaxed and just whimpered his way into my paws. And if he wanted this so bad, I was gonna' take control for once and let him know what he needed to be if he was gonna' get his dessert. I pushed him out of the kiss, spread my legs and slowly unzipped my trousers. Filico stood there with his eyes wide and that starved look on his muzzle.

If you want it, you're gonna 'ave to get down on your knees and get it

I'm a crafty sod sometimes; but it's true. Behaviour is definitely learnt. I'd learned a lot from my time in porn to make this young fox's dream come true. He shrugged himself out of his shirt and knelt between me, pulling gently at my trousers to get at my sheath.

It's an acquired taste, I will admit; I had been working all day in the heat. But he took to it like the hungry little slut he was. Nothing seemed to phase 'im, and I will give 'im that; he was up for anything. Got me nice and wet and ready for round two; not that he'd have any control of that either. I stopped 'im before he made me blow; he was really good for a first timer, and the musk and sweat didn't turn him off. The only "problem" with my libido, as it was in the day and still remains, is that once I'm on the go, I don't stop until I'm thoroughly dry. It's controlling what I have inside, versus the knowledge that this fox was young, inexperienced, kinda petrified and ultimately liable to cum his brains out at the slightest touch.

So I had very little to work with here, very little room to manoeuvre; and fuck, that would probably sum up his tailhole too. Shit, he was gonna be tight. Inexperienced or not, he was gonna get rammed. There we are again. How to balance teaching someone, and teaching someone a lesson; fuck, it sounds like I'm complaining.

I toss my trousers aside and take him upstairs; and when I say take him upstairs, I mean snarl in his muzzle, then reach down and sling 'im bodily over my shoulder. He was mine for the night, my catch, my prize. I was only gonna concede a few things to his amateur ways; the rest was mine to see how good he really was, whether he had the bollocks to carry off being the strident little pansy he pretended to be.

I don't hurt anyone, let's make that clear. I was never ever gonna hurt him or make him do something that I knew would cause him pain. Fuck, I did this sort of thing for a living. I knew exactly what to do and how to do it.

So I threw him onto the bed. He landed on the duvet, so don't freak out. So yeah, he's there half sat-up on the sheets all blushing and shit, as I'm undoing my shirt and prowling over towards him. I pushed him back against the pillows and undressed him; and before I had my fun, I tied his paws together with my shirt. He wasn't goin' anywhere! So I snuffled my nose all the way up the underside of his tail, kissing gently at his footpaws as I made my way north, before I gently pushed his paws skyward and got a muzzle-full of his tailhole.

He squeaked and whined as I got my tongue in there, and I could see that he'd already broken his sheath and was being dripped upon by his own pre. There was no way I was relenting, and had him there with his back flush to my front and my nose inhaling his musk for what seemed like hours. I'm not a huge one on rimming, but I do enjoy it; and besides, it would relax him for what daddy wolf had in store. See? I do care!

I'd later on make 'im do the "taste test". Never heard of it? Ah you don't know what you're missing! As you can gather, I quickly became the dominant part of this relationship and would often blindfold the naughty little fox and make him sniff at and beg for his treats; is this wolfie bollocks, sheath or tailhole? Paws above, that was a fun game. I found out that his tongue could do wonders to me. Under all that brash vulgarity, he was a fun, highly sexed vulp who was more than ready to be taken. And sure, whilst that first night was one of being careful with him so as not to make him bleed or anything, it was clear that Filico had been waiting so so long for that moment. I could smell it on the top of his tail, in his scent and his colour; he was ready to mate, properly. I honestly didn't know that foxes could show scent that was the equivalence of being "in-season", regardless of whether they were straight or gay. They do baffle me sometimes, they really do.

Kinda got distracted there didn't I?! Sorry! Missed the good part too. Well I guess that you'd guessed what happened next; the big bad wolf gave his fox a very big, hot, musky bone. And I won't lie; Filico had already cum twice before I fucked 'im. I still got the feeling from the very pleased smile on his muzzle as he went to sleep on my chest, that it felt good. I had planned to let go under his tail and breed the little slut, but I withdrew as he came again; I wanted to mark 'im instead!

Now you see, my full acting name in my porn days was Kit "Shrapnel" Caena; this was not only because my spunk was pretty copious, but that it used to spray and spurt everywhere when I unloaded. I did scenes with internals and they felt fucking amazing, but GG saw me paw-off off-camera and told the producer; and that was that. Kinda like, toss me over the edge and watch me explode! Ha! So from then on I fucked, withdrew, then coated my lover in hot cum. Apparently my tail would go into all kinds of hysterics too which is kinda funny; doin' risin' and fallin' windmills as I came. See? Old wuffs can still be cute and sexy!

So anyway, Filico and I went swiftly from yelling at each other to fucking each other. Nice transition right? But what made it all seem so right was the fact that it calmed him down dramatically. Just from that one night I noticed the difference; and whilst he didn't live with me, whenever we saw each other, he was so very affectionate and polite and romantic. The flat hardly ever needed any work doing to it and gone were all these females calling at every hour of the day and night; gone to get their fur tanned under their two-hundred watt red lights.

He went from being this swarthy, narcissistic little prick to this loving, attentive and 'out' young fox. I never expected any financial help from him, but that came swiftly and he'd regularly leave a tip in his flat whenever I was cleaning and he was at work. So at the weekends, I'd give him a big tip too if you know what I mean!

End of story, curtain fall! Nuh uh! Not in a million years, mate.

There was still one bad influence in his life that I hadn't counted on; his father. Now I'm not saying that Filico Senior was a bad guy - yet - only that his parenting skills had been decidedly suspect. Nevertheless, since his parents were pretty damned wealthy and had many a weekend to themselves, Filico decided to invite me to join the family for dinner.

Nice, right? Not as his boyfriend or whatever; just a friend. A much older, twice-your-age, secretly-plowin'-your-tail kinda friend.

Well anyway, I brush up kinda nice and I spend a lot of time on making sure tail and fur are well groomed; and if there's anything I do spend money on, it's scent. Special scent. Nothin' sexual, just appropriate. And it was nice to meet a close vulpic family in a traditional setting for a proper meal and get-together. But there was something off, right from the start.

He ignored me. Not his Dad; him!

Filico ambled back into his old habits, boasting about this exploit and that exploit and about how much money he had made on some lousy whim. I kinda let it ride for the first hour whilst I made small talk with Mrs Culpa, and just watched on helplessly as he got his cock sucked by his Dad; and I mean that in the nicest possible way. Not literally, but you know what I'm getting at.

So there I am, nomming away; and the food was delicious. It was just a pity that Filico had become this stuck up, precious little brat all over again. He'd conveniently forgotten about me, and I was even left to clear the dishes with his mum as the pair o' them nattered their fucking muzzles off. Bastard!

Oh and he wasn't done. I got the treatment in the end; and hoo boy would I make him eat those fuckin' words. I got referred to as the cleaning guy again, and had my whole life, my little home and my earnings critiqued and battered for a full quarter of an hour. And I know Mr Culpa meant well when he said he could give me some tips on making more and investing and shit; but my eyes were trained through searing anger at his worthless, lying cub.

I'm like oh right, yeah, that's so cool and wow, thank you ever so much. I might well just do that. As you can imagine, the real side of me was uttering something completely different. If my eyes could speak through the welling tears and the seething, they would've cut his son a new tail.

I didn't flinch until the night was over. And then I let rip. I think it was something along the lines of...

What the fuck, man?! You ungrateful, selfish stuck-up little cunt!

Or something like that. He played innocent and insisted that he had had to put up the same old front with his dad to save himself his flat, his allowance and even his job. But at the time I was having none of it, and told him that he'd be havin' coffee and "dessert" alone that night. I just turned away and stormed off towards the city centre.

He didn't make contact for a while after that, and it wasn't until June that he was back in my life; he turned up on my doorstep out of the blue with a suitcase and bedraggled fur. He'd walked his way to mine through a downpour. This time I guess you could say it was my turn to eat my words; and I was insensitive enough to interrupt him before he'd even opened his muzzle, to drag up that horrible night all over again.

Got bored of mating with your right paw huh?

Fuck, I am such a twat! Filico burst into tears and started going for me, backing me up into my own house. And I guess I deserved the bollocking I got for the cold way I started it all. He just broke in the end, and we ended up cuddling in my little hallway. Filico was right; his Dad had found out about his dodgy scent stuff, about the females he'd been supposedly dating and about... well, me.

The old fucker went apeshit, disowned his only cub, evicted him from the apartment and got him fired from his job by spreading some vicious bullshit. So help me, I was wrong; doesn't excuse the fact that Filico should've told me what was at stake, but I guess I should've figured that out in my own tiny mind before I'd even sat down to dinner that night. Hey, I'm still a wuff when it all balls down to it; an old, working-class Union rep's cub from a down-to-earth nowhere.

So anyway, there we go! We nuzzled and made up, and he moved in with me. The only thing that his father had granted him was a "small" allowance; this was still double my annual salary, and more than enough for Filico to live on for a considerable while. He had to cut his spend-spend-spend ways, but he'd survive; just.

And hey, yeah I may 'ave milked that fox in one way, but I didn't milk 'im for that!

I'll admit that it was nice to have someone to come home to after a hard day; just to kick back and relax on the sofa, or have a nommy dinner. And I think the age difference started to matter less and less; well I mean I never had a problem with it in the first place, but I did get concerned that Filico would get bored with me, or get embarrassed when we were out. Cos' we did go out now and again, whether it be the pub or the clubs in town; I can still move my tail!

But nope, not a bit. He said to me a few days after moving in that this was the happiest he'd been since he was just a tiny cub. I think he got a little overwhelmed by it all if I'm honest, particularly when it came to taking his very own side of the bed. Very personal thing for vulps I think; well for everyone I suppose. It's all about the earth and the traditional den mentality with them; and Filico was no different. So cute!

And as much as I was head-over-tail to have attracted a much younger partner, I was also grateful for his presence and his imposing personality. I owe him so much for not just falling for this silly old wuff, but for dealing with a problem I had had regularly since I moved in; the bailiffs.

I literally had one last outstanding payment of like five hundred quid to someone or other that I had completely forgotten about. I'm not a bad guy; it's just taken time to repair myself financially after the excesses of my past. So these two fat fucks, who probably hadn't seen their sheaths in years, turn up at my door demanding that I hand over this payment or lose my tail and one of my ears.

And like I said, I'm not the smallest wolf ever but when this pair of grubby, overweight rat-like vulps were stood there growling at my dithery nature, I felt miniscule. I was all over the place, my paws fumbling, my tail slinking between my legs... I looked frickin' pitiful, as though as I was on the edge of tears. But before they could sign my impromptu backstreet surgery into their little black book, Filico comes out the kitchen and strides forward into the doorway. I'm left almost cowering behind him, as he's all like...

Hey, here's six hundred. Buy yourselves a new attitude, sweetheart! Now fuck off!

Stuffs this wad of notes into a top pocket of theirs, and slam goes the door. Filico just turns and takes my paw, that wry naughty little smile on his maw again.

What would you do without me huh?!

For once in my life, I'd been left completely speechless; and it's true. I honestly don't know what I would've done without him, truly I don't.

I guess I should've known that this gorgeous, forthright and intelligent young fox was not gonna' wanna' hang around for long. I never mentioned it, but I just clung on as long as I could, trying to make him feel as wanted and loved and at-home as possible. He became a lot more confident in himself, whilst keeping busy by doing all his scent calls during the day to find a new job; and this confidence also spread to the bedroom.

Filico became wolfie's bad little fox cub! We definitely fell into the age-difference thing in our sex lives; it was all kinds of fun. Big daddy wolf would collar-up his fox, and give him some really dirty nights, showing him exactly how fuckin' good I am in this department. It was like the good old days, only this time it was even better; I was not only dating the hot tail, but he wouldn't leave me within a matter of minutes or hours of draining his balls all over my fur. Felt comfy and settled for the first time in a long time.

Too good to be true, right? Right!

And it was no one's fault either, least of all Filico's. I got where he was coming from, and totally understood that he was a young vulp on the crest of a really successful career; I guess it was just my luck to have it all kinda fall apart all over again. I came home one night, gave him a kiss and a snuzzle, and it was then that he dropped the bomb. One of his friends had called him, and said that he'd spoken to his father who consequently wanted Filico to be his new junior exec a mere three hundred miles further south.

And I was like...

Oh wow, that's... that's really cool foxie! That's excellent news

...whilst my heart is shearing in two. And he could see right through that. Made me bawl my eyes out; huge, hulking great wuff bursting into tears in the paws of the lover he was about to lose. I tried my very best to make it sound like I was OK with it, and that it was something that I was comfy with.

But I'm a terrible liar.

From that point on up until his very last day with me here in May'iard, I spoilt him rotten. I guess that sounds really clingy; but I just couldn't bear it. Nothing fancy, cos' I couldn't afford it and I would never ask him for money.

So it was just little things; breakfast in bed, sex, a candlelit dinner or two, sex, lots of tail massages... more sex. I'm a randy old wuff!

Wouldn't let 'im out of my paws that Sunday before he left; and we had a very sleepless night which beat off every single production I ever took a part in. Just the most erotic, most blissful night I've ever had, and will probably ever have. Never smelled such incredible musk, or seen him move so nimbly to squeeze my bulb into his tight foxhole. Never had my tongue dry out so much, or my bollocks ache for encore.

If I'm honest, I wanted to huff that scent and bury my cock in hot fox as much as I could. I guess it was because I was thinking about the lonely days, starting from the time I'd leave him at the train station and watch him disappear. I mean I'm forty-two, grey fur getting greyer and still just a cleaner; what chance do I have, huh?

I try not to dwell on him not being there for me at home, or the fact that I'm sat here with you in his old flat at King's Plaza, dusting away at the sideboards and readying myself to change the linen.

But hey, I was settled and grounded here with all those creditors off my tail - thanks mainly to Filico - so a move was not really something I wanted.

He still sends me cards, and phones me nearly every day; and we manage to get together most weekends to have some snuggly evenings, a hot meal and even hotter nights. I started to smell someone else on his scent the other week though; I never said anything, but I guess he must've found someone new, and he's waiting for the right moment to tell me, bless 'im. Such is life, am I right?

Coming full circle has never been so much fun; and sex aside, I'd like to think that I gave him the father figure he craved, and that he became the cub I could never have.

One thing's for sure, mind you! I shall always be his big daddy wolf, no matter what.