I know one such “fox”. But he calls himself a “wolf” and I think of him as such as well. He is my wolf. My humble, nice and sweet man. A regular (yet charming) person. But he knows how to draw them girls willingly to him. No fuss. No fanfare. They will come.

The hairs may be grey, And his clothes all passe, His age hard for someone to guess, But never discount the wily old fox, His experience makes him …

D/s Poetry: This Old Fox