Nicolae and The Moxie Kid
Hey everyone! This here is the first of a series of one-part stories that I have written. Each one-part story has a different and original never-before-seen aspect to it. This IS a cubby story, but I do not approve of such behavior in real life! What makes this cubby story so different and never before seen is that it's written 2nd person! That's right! 2nd person perspective! 1st person perspective would be the kid himself. 3rd person perspective would be the pedo. 2nd person is a furson witnessing the events of the 1st and 3rd person. I hope you really like it!
If you have any questions or comments or would like some intelligent conversation, email me at [email protected]
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Nicolae and The Moxie Kid
By Neptune Wolf
12-11-05
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Marcellas closed his eyes tight and silently made a wish at the end of the Happy Birthday song. He inhaled deeply and blew out the nine candles on the white frosted cake with his name written in blue frosting. All of us at the big picnic table in the backyard cheered and clapped for him. Mr. Moxie, Marcellas' father, took several pictures with his new digital camera. Mrs. Moxie, the one with the sharp, mirror finished knife in her long nimble fingers cut the cake while at the same time posing for her husband. The first piece of the vanilla/chocolate marbled cake went to the birthday boy. I had the next piece. The other 7 or 8 guest waited patiently.
"Move in closer, Nick!" Marcellas' father said to me. He had on a light blue dress-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Nick was short for Nicolae, my full first name. I moved in closer to Marcellas and smiled big for the camera. His warm, grey and white fur brushed against my nose on purpose which made me smile even more, trying to laugh and keep still for the picture. I batted the black tip of my tail against Marcellas' left arm and he was laughing along with me. We both said "Cheese" in unison and right after the picture was taken, I got a glob of white frosting on my nose from the wolf next to me. I laughed even more and put an ice cube down the collar of his red, cotton shirt. Marcellas' ears perked up higher than usual and his eyes went wide as he made a high pitched "Yelp". Mrs. Moxie smirked and shook her head at us from the other side of the table still passing out slices of the birthday cake.
It was a warm May day. With the steady, pleasant wind keeping the humidity down a few notches, we could hear the leaves of all the trees rustle in The Moxie's orchard. It sounded like crashing waves on the beach when the winds would occasionally gust. There was something vibrant about the Moxie's property. The grass seemed greener, the trees seemed taller, their yard was much bigger than mine, and even the bricks of their three story house seemed . . . well, brickier. Maybe it was their deep read color that was offset by the green grass and other shrubs and vegetation around the house. That was one thing I really liked about going to the Moxie's house. They had everything; a big house, a big backyard, a pool, and even a movie theater. I knew Marcellas for as far back as I could remember. We are the best of friends and we do everything together, no matter what. His parents said I could spend the night over at their house tonight. His parent's said they had something special for me. I couldn't help but ask what it was but they said it was a surprise. I day dreamed about what it could be . . .
"Nick! Nick!" I snapped out of it when I noticed Marcellas was calling me and tapping me on the shoulders.
"What?" I said with a smile. Everyone was getting up from the table, done with their cake and ice cream and heading inside the large brick house talking and laughing.
"It's time for the presents I hope you got me something good for me." He said with a raised eyebrow. I pushed him a little for doubting my gift and he laughed and pounced onto me. I fell backwards out of the beige metal folding chair into the lush green grass with the slightly older wolf on top of me; a paw on each one of my shoulders. I pushed him off and reversed it.
"You know I got you something you'd like." I said confidently. I got up and brushed my vibrant red and white fur off. Marcellas pounced agin and pinned me to the ground, a little harder this time, but still playfully.
"It better be!" He chuckled and let me free. Marcellas ran towards the house. "Come on, Fox! You'll miss it!" He taunted, running backwards. I chased after him and we raced to the door.
We both made it there at the same time, a tie, and we were stopped upon entering by Mr. Moxie.
"Behave boys." The tall wolf with a swimmer's build said. "Now come on in and go in the living room. You grandparents, aunts, and uncles are waiting." We both walked into the living room and Marcellas took a seat on the couch next to his mother. The living room was one of the largest I had seen in my life. Even though I frequently came to Marcellas' house, I was always in awe at how big the house was for just three people.
"This first gift is from Nick." Mrs. Moxie said while wiping her son's fur clean of the grass and dirt from outside. It was a medium sized box with shiny, blue, aluminum foil-like paper over it with a big white bow on top. Marcellas smiled at me and I sheepishly smiled back. I really wanted him to like my gift more than any other gift there. The young wolf looked at his reflection in the blue wrapping paper before ripping it to shreds. Underneath the wrapping was a plain brown box. The wolf carefully opened the box at the seams and reached inside. There was a lot of paper in the box for protection of the precious gift, but under it all was an old set of bike handle bars and an even older pulley that was cleaned off the best I could. The birthday boy smiled as wide as he could.
"Oh My goodness! It's exactly what I wanted!" Marcellas exclaimed.
"What?!?" Mrs. Moxie said not believing her ears. James, or Mr. Moxie as we all called him, kept taking pictures.
"Me and Nick are working on a new clubhouse in the backyard and we need these parts to make the elevator work." Marcellas said.
"I got it from my father's garage." I said sheepishly, glad that he liked it. My father was a mechanic and occasionally let me roam around the junkyard.
"And who says kids today don't have an imagination? I say, back when me and James were kids, we had to make our own toys!" Mr. Moxie laughed.
"We aren't that old." He said moving his bouncy, jet black (obviously dyed from it's natural wolf-grey) hair. Uncle Clyde, which is what Marcellas called him, laughed in his full bodied voice, much more deeper than his brother's.
"Open my gift." The wolf that looked similar to James said as he passed the cub a gift in bright red paper that had a collage of birthday hats, cake, presents and confetti on it. Marcellas gave the gift the same treatment by quickly ripping the paper off. It was a new remote-controlled car, one of the new ones that had a place for your ipod in the back. I knew Marcellas didn't have an ipod so that only meant that the next gift, a small box handed to him from his father, was it. With it's wrapper on the floor and the new white ipod mini attached to his belt, the next present was passed to him.
The party guest sat around in the living room "Ooo-ing" and "Ah-ing" at the birthday boy's gifts. He got a new video game, a dirt bike, a paint set, a three thousand dollar savings bond from his grandparents, and about 5 new out-fits complete with a pair of shoes for each. I sat next to Marcellas as he opened the gifts, happy and bouncing in his seat. Everyone gave him a gift except for his parents. There were last.
"This is from the both of us son. Open it carefully now." Mr. Moxie said as he passed him a heavy present wrapped in paper that had music notes printed on it. Marcellas ripped off the paper with one claw on his left paw. It was a rectangular black leather case with metal braces on the corners. It seemed to be used or fairly old. The black leather case had a handle and two latches that were difficult to unclasp. When the cub finally got it open, both of our eyes widened. It was a golden instrument that I didn't know the name to. The wolf next to me carefully took the foreign instrument out of it's case that was made to hold it perfectly. The golden finish had a few imperfections, but nothing too noticeable. Marcellas played with it's three valves and inspected every inch of the brass wonder.
"That is my first trumpet, Marcellas. I had it since I was about your age." Mrs. Moxie said with pride.
"We also got you private lessons with Mr. Polk. He's really good! You'll love him." His father said. Both of Marcellas' parents were musicians. Every time I came over to their house, they would be practicing in the music room loft on the third-floor, leaving us alone to play outside or in the house under the maid's supervision.
"We would teach you, but you know we are busy and we leave for Moscow in a couple of days." Mrs. Moxie said. She reached into the trumpet case and pulled out a metal mouthpiece. "I just want to hold it one more time before I give her up." She said as she took the horn from the young wolf's paws and inserted the mouthpiece. Mrs. Moxie cleared her throat and played a Bb concert below staff, then on staff, and then above staff and held it for a few seconds. Her tone coming through the high pitched brass instrument was astounding to my vulpine ears. It was at the right frequency to make my entire body tremble. The note crescendoed from a soft, almost whisper, to a comfortable and full-bodied golden tone. It felt like she was hugging me with warm arms. The female wolf, wearing a bright sun dress with exotic flowers painted in a Van Gogh style, began to play an upbeat, jazz version of Happy Birthday for her son. When she finished, everyone clapped and cheered. Mr. Moxie gave her a kiss on the cheek as she passed the horn to Marcellas.
Mr. Moxie took several more pictures of Marcellas with his new trumpet. He tried to play it a little bit, but he couldn't make a sound with it.
"Don't worry, son. It'll be as natural as breathing when you get older." Mrs. Moxie said, patting her son on the shoulder. Pretty much after that, the party was over. It had been fun; clowns, games, music, cake, ice cream, presents, but now it was the time me and Marcellas had been waiting for. When the last party guest left, the sun was starting to go down, making the sun melt from a saffron yellow to orangish red hue. The birthday boy and I were out playing in the vast orchard while the sun went down. After we installed the pulley in our special tree house and put the bike handle bars on our paw-made go-cart, we played tag, hide-and-go-seek, and "Apple Fight" which was a game we made up. We would pick the small apples from the trees and throw them at each other until someone got tired, or hurt.
I hid behind a narrow tree catching my breath while Marcellas tried to catch me. It was starting to get dark, that hazy kind of dark that happened so gradually, your eyes grew accustomed to it. The wolf ran right passed me and I hit him in the back with the two apples I had in my paws. He ducked and laughed then ran right for me while throwing apples but his aim was horrible. Unluckily for me I tripped over a rock and fell. I quickly recovered and got back up but the wolf had caught up When the apples ran out, he pounced and pinned me to the ground for the third time that day. We landed with an "Umph" but we kept laughing. The heavier wolf had me pinned good with a paw on each of my shoulders. We were both breathing hard, our chests rising and falling with our breaths. We smelled of sweat, dirt, and apples in the hot summer night. It was quiet, except for our breathing and the chirp of crickets. The neat rows of Apple, pear, and cherry trees seemed to go on forever which made me feel like I was in the middle of a forest.
Marcellas put a leg on each side of my pelvis. I was too tired to fight him off and reverse it so I lied there on the ground with him above me, panting hard. We stayed like that for a while, longer than usual. The wolf above me leaned down a little closer, almost laying on top of me, and licked my cheek. I instinctively pushed him off playfully with a newfound strength.
"What was that for?" I said with fake disgust in my young voice.
"You had a little bit of apple in your fur." He said with a smile. I smiled back. Marcellas sat next to me on his knees while I sat up, still sitting on the ground. I quickly pounced and pushed him back and put him in the same position he had me in a few seconds earlier, my smaller vulpine body over his; a paw on each shoulder and a leg on each side of him. He stared me in the eyes and I quickly leaned down and licked his cheek.
"And what was that for?" The wolf cub asked slyly.
"Same reason." I said with a laugh. He leaned up and licked my cheek again with a smile. I felt a little funny for some reason, being on top of the more powerful wolf and both our bodies rising and falling as we panted. I wanted to do something, but I didn't know what. I slowly leaned down, our hearts beat in unison, muzzle to muzzle, chest to heaving chest, almost sharing a warm inviting breath with my best friend when we heard Mr. Moxie call us from far away.
"Come on in boys! It's almost time for dinner!" He yelled from the backyard which was father away than we both though as we got up and raced each other to door of the house, quickly dismissing our previous position.
It was a tie again. We always seem to tie in every race we are in. It's like we're destined to tie and be stuck together in unison, neither of us declared winner.
In the dining room, the food was already set up; just a light dinner of chicken salad and paw-made iced tea. Not only was The Moxies good musicians, they were excellent chefs. Marcellas' aunts, uncles, and grandparents had left with the rest of the party guest which included the parents of the other kids, so there was only the four of us at the glass table.
"So, how did like your gifts, Marcellas?" Mr. Moxie said then put his fork into his mouth.
"I really liked Nick's gift the best to be honest. We were looked hard for those two parts but couldn't find them. We almost decided not to include the elevator. Nick's a real lifesaver." Marcellas said. I smiled and blushed a bit.
"Well, I really hope you liked my gift as well." Crystal, Mrs. Moxie, said.
"Oh yeah! I really loved it Ma. I hear you guys playing all the time and I would really like to learn how to play as well as you."
"Speaking of that, we have a gift for you too, Nicolae." Mr. Moxie said as he got up from the table and went in to the living room. My black-tipped ears perked up when I smiled. He came back with a similar black leather case. Mr. Moxie came over to where I was sitting, next to Marcellas, and opened it for me. It was a trumpet similar to the one Marcellas received.
"This is my first trumpet I got when I was about your age. Me and Crystal got you private lessons as well with Marcellas in a small group session with Mr. Polk." he said with such pride. " I am honored to give you this horn and I can think of no on better than my son's best friend to give it to."
I felt so surprised to hear that from Marcellas's father. I always felt welcome in their home, but right now . . . I felt like a part of their family.
"Thank you!" was all I was able to say to show my intense appreciation to the Moxie family. I would have never gotten anything like this from my father. We barely have a roof over our heads and when my father's not drinking or hitting me, he's hanging out with his other greasy mechanic buddies from work, drinking and smoking. I felt more at home here than anywhere else in the world. "Thank you." I said again, holding the brass trumpet in my paws, playing with its valves.
After dinner, Mr. And Mrs. Moxie told us not to stay up to late, even though we were out of school for over a week already. It was after 8 already. Me and Marcellas choose a movie to watch in the theater in the basement, next to the weight room. We popped popcorn and got a bottle of Sprite from the fridge by the theater. We chose a movie called "Gladiator", a movie both our parents wouldn't allow us to see unless it was our birthday.
We sat next to each other on the couch seats in the dark theater. The 97- inch projection screen showed the beginning credits of the graphic movie. "We're big boys, we can handle it!" I said to myself, but by the time the first head came off, me and Marcellas were huddled next to each other on the couch. We stayed like that until the end of the movie. We barely understood what was happening during the movie but we watched ever moment and eventually grew calloused to the violence and blood. We knew nothing about Roman History, the complexities of master-slave relations, or Gladiatorial honor.
The movie cut off by itself at the end. It was pushing 10:30. The wolf and I stood up and stretched. It was time for us to go to sleep, or at least to bed. We marched up to Marcellas' room and on the way we passed his parents on the couch in the dimly lit den huddled together as we were, only they were now sleep. His room was upstairs on the second floor. We went in and headed straight for the bed. We both got into the large, full-sized bed and told ghost stories until we both fell asleep. I got up in the middle of the night, still thinking about what happened earlier. Why did I feel so funny being with him then? I sat up in the bed, slightly waking the wolf. He reached over to me, feeling for the covers but accidentally touched my sheath. I yelped and he moved his paw and eventually found the covers and pulled them up to his chin.
* * *
The next morning, we headed down for breakfast. Mr. And Mrs. Moxie were cooking banana nut pancakes, sausage, eggs, and paw-squeezed orange juice. We talked about their trip to Moscow, Russia that they were leaving on that night.
"We are playing at a really nice opera house in Moscow. We are the two trumpet soloist for Bach's Fugue in G Minor, then we are playing Bach's Brandenburg Concertos with the Russian Philharmonic. It's going to be so great!" Mrs. Moxie said. This had been their third time in Russia this year. They were going to be there for an entire week and they hired a babysitter to stay and watch Marcellas. "You can stay here if you like, Nick. Marcellas might need the company." I more than eagerly accepted the offer. There was no need to call my father about it. He wouldn't care either way, but if I stayed with The Moxies, there would be one less thing to worry about. . . for the both of us.
"You private lessons start today in a little while. I bet you two are so exited" Mr. Moxie said. We both smiled wide.
After breakfast, we all got into Mrs. Moxie's new, dark green Mercedes E-Class. Mr. Polk gave his private group lessons at his house, which was a brick manor a little more than a mile away. Mr. and Mrs. Moxie walked us inside and signed some papers. They talked with Mr. Polk, a 27 year old Husky for a while and left us to wander around the first floor of the house. He had all types of awards, medals and certificates throughout the house. Marcellas' parents told Mr. Polk about their situation, leaving to Russia in only a few short hours. He agreed to take us both home after today's lesson and to pick us up and drop us off for now own every other day during the summer. Apparently, The Moxies knew and trusted Mr. Polk very well.
The Moxies hugged and kissed us goodbye and told us how to contact them if we needed them. They left us with him and we immediately started to work. We were guided to the music room by the athletically built husky. He cold sense our discomfort by the way we lagged behind. He playfully go low tot he ground, as if ready to pounce as we stood before the third floor staircase. "Come on! I'll race you guys upstairs!" The Husky said in his college kid voice. Me and Marcellas got in line with him and he counted to three and we all raced up the stairs. I could tell he was letting us win, but it was still a tie; me and Marcellas.
The other three students were already there; another male wolf, a female hyena, and a male Manx. All of which were about our age, which made me feel a bit more comfortable. During our first lesson in a lofty room on the third floor of Mr. Polk's house, we introduced each other and learned how to make a sound on the trumpet. The other three students were Jack, Toya, and Martin, respectfully.
"You have to put your lips together as if you were whistling, then . . .well . . . whistle." The husky said in a vibrant voice. We all tried to whistle, but non of us could.
By the end of the lesson we all learned how to whistle. Marcellas was the first and I was the last. Then with that knowledge, we made our first sound on the horn. There was a lot of brassy, jumbled noises in the room. Mr. Polk passed out a fingering chart for the Bb trumpet to all of us. We were there for about 2 hours and it was relatively fun. Mr. Polk was a funny guy. He laughed and joked with us and we even played hide-and-go-seek in his house, which was really fun. The Husky was like a big kid. The other three students got a ride home from their parents and Mr. Polk drove us to Marcellas' house. He was given a spare key to the house and unlocked the door for us. He simply waved goodbye and drove off, but I felt as though he wanted to come inside with us.
When we walked in, lunch was ready and on the table by some fox I had never seen before. He was about 6 foot 3 and seemed about 25.
"Hi. I'm Mark, your babysitter." he said in a cheerful voice that reminded me of one of my teachers. His slim body had rich, red fur, black tipped ears and tail, black socks, and I could imagine from close similarities we had that he had a white belly just like mine. He wore Mrs. Moxie's white apron over his tight-fitting light-blue jeans and white t-shirt. Me and Marcellas both laughed to ourselves. "A male babysitter?" I said to myself. I could tell the wolf was thinking the same thing by his smile.
Mark made us a lunch of grilled chicken sandwiches and grapes that was to die for. His cooking rivaled that of the Moxies, but I didn't really like the mayo. Marcellas on the other paw, loved it. When we were done eating, the little wolf had creamy white mayo on the corners of his muzzle. Mark laughed a bit.
"Let me get you cleaned up. The bathroom is upstairs, right?" Mark said. Marcellas nodded big with a smile on his mayo-covered grey muzzle. "Yuck." I said to myself, hating the nasty sauce. "We'll be right back, Nick. This'll only take a sec." and with that, the two were bounding upstairs to the bathroom. I looked around at the fairly large kitchen. We were sitting at the island with the tall bar stools. Mark had everything as clean as usual; the floors, the counter, the stove . . . and even the kitchen sink which was only 4 feet away from where we sat.
* * *
The week went by rather quickly. Marcellas and I were as close as usual, playing our games in the orchard or waching tv in the house, then being picked up by Mr. Polk in the mornings and dropped off in the afternoon, coming home to a freshly cooked lunch and dinner by Mark. On the sixth music lesson, I had noticed how much better Marcellas was compared to the rest of us. Despite the fact that we were only introduced to music the black squiggly marks that Mr. Polk called 'Music', Marcellas was already reading and understanding it! I guess it was in his blood, having both parents good musicians. Mr. Polk sat next to him during the sessions and watched his every move. He was obviously his favorite out of all of us. Must be because of his natural talent. During our 10 minute break, which we had every session, Mr. Polk gave us all something to drink and let us talk amongst ourselves while he went to his office on the first floor for something. Marcellas and I would usually talk play around, but today he seemed slightly different.
"What's up?" I asked him when I sat down closer to him. The wolf cub was simply staring at the floor.
"Nothing, nothing at all." he simply said.
That night, after dinner, I went upstairs to the music room to practice by myself. I wanted to get as good as Marcellas so we could both be Mr. Polk's favorite students. Marcellas was downstairs watching TV in the den while I practiced. I wanted so bad to go downstairs with him, but I knew I had to practice as hard as I could. I warmed up by doing some push-ups. Mr. Polk said that playing an instrument is just like playing football and we started every lesson with either push-ups, jumping jack, or some other exercise. After that, we played what he called the Tuning Pitch. It was the easiest not to play since we didn't have to push down any valves. I practiced the tuning pitched and the Chromatic scale, which was just the fingering chart he gave us. I went over it then went over it again, then another time. By the time I finished practicing that night, I learned what those notes meant on the black lines on the paper.
I practiced like that for a week and I had gotten a lot better. I was able to read music now and my tone was getting better. I was better than the other three students by leaps and bounds and Marcellas was leaps and bounds better than myself. Despite my great improvement from the first day, I got little or no attention from Mr. Polk. Marcellas did something new and astounding that captivated him every lesson and he didn't even practice as much as I did! I knew I was very close to being as good as the wolf, I just know it. Mr. Polk spoke to Toya, the hyena, after practice. I was kind of angry because that 15 minutes of talking meant less time for me to practice. This was officially an competition now between me and Marcellas. This time, there would be no tie.
At home, I saw the same treatment. Mark seemed gravitated to the slightly older wolf for some reason, maybe it was because Marcellas like his cooking more than I did, and who know what kind of fun they were having while I was in the music room for hours on end. Video games? Hide and seek? Who knows. Marcellas didn't even care to join me or invite me to play with him while I was in the music room. It was becoming my self-made prison cell.
In the next music lesson, there was one less student, Toya. Apparently she convinced her parents to take her out. That meant less competition for me. Mr. Polk, with his athletic body and expensive materialistic wardrobe, asked to see Marcellas in his office, which was downstairs, during our break. I took the liberty to keep practicing during the 10 minutes break. When they got back, Marcellas seemed a little upset. For some reason, I couldn't help but hope that that effected his playing ability. He was my best friend and I wished bad luck upon him, but what did he care? He wouldn't even talk to me afterwards and when Mr. Polk dropped us off he spoke with Marcellas again. He told me to go on in the house and they would be done in a second. It wasn't fair! Why is it that only the best of the best get the most attention?
That night, I decided to spend as much time as I could practicing. That was one thing my father taught me, to never stop until I was the best. That was why my father is the best mechanic in the neighborhood, or so I was told. I hadn't seen him in a while, not even a phone call. He knew I was here, but did he care? I was to be here all summer at the Moxies house.
Mark, the babysitter, insisted that all three of us play a game of Sorry in the living room since I was either upstairs practicing or outside playing with Marcellas. Immediately after the game, which I lost, I went back upstairs to practice. I was getting upset by the fact that we never tied anymore. He was clearly better than at everything. Mark wanted a rematch against Marcellas, but I could care less. Sorry was a boring game anyway. I could hear Mark and Marcellas talk on my way upstairs, something about playing a new game that involved potion or lotion or something like that. I couldn't hear that much when I made it up the stairs. I just wanted to practice a little more that night. I frequently slept in music room loft. I was alone up there, but I would still be alone in Marcellas' room since he started to sleep with Mark in the guest bedroom.
* * *
Five weeks passed. I was still Mr. Polk's second best student, only because the other two students quit or dropped out. Even when it was just us two who lived in the same house, Mr. Polk still had private meetings with Marcellas. Why did Mr. Polk like that wolf so much anyways? What did that nine year old have that captivated the Husky in such a way? It had to be his talent. I had to prove him wrong! I AM as good as Marcellas!
Mr. Polk asked to speak with Marcellas during the 10 minute break which had become a daily event, but it always took like 20 or even 30 minutes for the two to get back. They left down the hall and I sat in silence, holding the trumpet given to me by the nicest parents on Earth. They had came back from their trip a while ago, but left to London only a week later. From there they were promoting their new album in Sydney, Australia. I looked around the near empty music room. I noticed that Marcellas took his trumpet, but left his mouthpiece. I laughed a bit to myself. I guess Mr. Perfect isn't as perfect as I thought. I walked down the hall and down the stairs to Mr. Polk's office. There was no one inside so I walked around lifeless the mansion until I thought I heard Marcellas' voice. It sounded like he was crying so I started to run. His voice led me to the second floor spare bedroom. The door was slightly open so I peeked inside.
Mr. Polk had Marcellas pinned to the bed, a paw on each shoulder and a leg on each side of his pelvis. The much older Husky licked Marcellas' cheek, just as I did on this birthday, and seemed to enjoy it just as much. Mr. Polk whispered something to Marcellas then got off of him. The young wolf seemed to frown and got off the bed halfway and positioned himself so that he was bent over the bed. It was an odd position, but he seemed ok with it. Mr. Polk grasped the young wolf by his waist and took off his belt and pants and pulled them down to his ankles. But still no word from Marcellas. Mr. Polk began to take off his jeans and shirt.
"You've been such a good little wolfie so far," The Husky said caressing Marcellas' soft rump, "and now you get your reward." He took off his underwear, completely exposed to the little cub. There was something very wrong with this picture, but Marcellas had no complaints about it. He just sat as still as possible as the older Husky touched his private parts to the cub's tailhole. Is this how we get rewarded in band? Is this what Mr. And Mrs. Moxie mean when they say they are accepting an award? It was all so confusing! I just bust open the door and yelled,
"I want a reward too!", dropping my trumpet and Marcellas' mouthpiece to the carpeted floor.
Mr. Polk stopped abruptly what he was doing to look at me. He seemed like a deer caught in headlights. Marcellas looked over at me with fear in his eyes as Mr. Polk held him down with one paw on his back, his privates, his penis, at the entrance to the wolf's tailhole.
"What do I have to do to get a reward?" I said naively, completely confused by what was going on.
"Close the door, sit here on the bed next to Marcellas." He said, somewhat confused himself. I guess he wasn't expecting me to demand MY reward! I've been good too. I felt proud of myself. I did as I was told. I guess Marcellas looked so scared because he finally had competition. Mr. Polk took off my shirt and pulled down my pants. He got down on his knees and buried his muzzle into my exposed crotch, smelling and sniffing my sheath. It felt kind of weird, but I guess this is what a reward is.
"Today's lesson is, since you two have gotten so good, Advanced Fingering and Advanced Tonging." He said stroking my sheath up and down until a bit of red peaked from the tip. Mr. Polk licked it with his rough canine tongue as if it were an ice cream cone. With each stroke of my sheath he massaged my ball sac, sending jolts of a strange foreign kind of pleasure through my body. It reminded me of when Marcellas and I were playing in the orchard on his birthday, that odd feeling I had. I smiled enjoying the odd, but good feeling in my crotch. I was finally getting what Marcellas had been getting for all this time.
Well, that's the end of that! I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it! Please send any comments, criticism and concerns to the bottom of the page or email me or visit my website: www.angelfire.com/moon2/neptunes\_life