Date: Sun, 20 Jan 2002 18:32:47 -0500
From: Tom Cup <tom_cup@hotmail.com>
Subject: Karate Master

Karate Master by Tom Cup

Copyright 2001 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All
rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without
written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive,
Florissant, CO 80816

This is a fictional story involving youth/youth and adult/youth sexual
relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any
further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names,
characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's
imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or
locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This story is part of the Tom Cup Short Story Galley

To support this, and other stories by Tom Cup, visit:
http://tomcup.isCool.net

*****

Karate Master
By Tom Cup

"Why do I have to go?" I asked mom for the fiftieth time.  This time she
didn't answer.  I knew of course the reasons she would give:  I was always
moping around the house; I needed a male role model since my father wasn't
around, and (the every so convincing) it would be good for me.  I wanted mom
to admit that the real reason she wanted me to take karate was that she,
like myself, was beginning to suspect that I might be gay.

I wouldn't have used those words exactly, I don't think mom would have
either, but it was clear that I was... different from the other boys my age.
I wasn't weak, sickly or effeminate but I didn't like gym class or sporting
venues.  Mainly, I think looking back, because too many times you wound up
getting undressed in front of the guys, wrestling or some over manly
activity that I would respond to in an unmanly manner.

I knew that strange feelings ran through my body when I saw nude guys or
when a guy I fancied touched me.  At some point, I decided to avoid those
kinds of situations. I turned my attention to things less arousing: reading,
model car building, helping mom with chores around the house or grocery -
shopping as we were at the moment of the present conversation.

"I really don't want to go mom," I began as my eyes caught a couple of kids
from school coming my way.  The two boys greeted me as they passed.  I hid
partially behind mom, mumbling greetings back, shyly watching their asses as
they walked away shaking their heads at my inability to function socially.

"That's why," mom answered flatly turning to face me, "You're thirteen years
old and so shy you find it hard to talk to people you already know.  It'll
give you confidence."

After my sorry display of the social graces, I knew the argument was over.
We went silently through the checkout, loaded the car, and headed home.  I
was to meet with Master San for my first lesson in a half hour.

*****

Master San was our next-door neighbor.  He'd moved in three months earlier.
He was pleasant and kept pretty much to himself.  He first peaked mom's
interest when he planted a Japanese style garden in his front yard.
Everyone on the block started taking a new interest in his or her own yard.
Next, he was digging a hole for a koi pond in his backyard.  It was too much
for mom to bear.  She had to visit for a chat, with me in tow because I
didn't want to be left out.

Master San was about fifty, a bit stocky but not fat, graying hair, dancing
blue eyes, and golden suntanned skin.  He welcomed us eagerly, put on water
for tea, and escorted us through the house to the back for a view of his
progress on the pond.  He introduced himself as Peter, explaining that when
he was a boy, he lost both his parents in a car accident; a friend of the
family, Dr. San, raised him.  When the old man died, Peter changed his name
in honor of the man that loved him more than a father.

Mom smiled at the story and ruffled my hair. I knew she was hinting that
Peter and I had something in common because my dad died in an accident when
I was three.  I did my best to personify the essence of boredom.

As I walked through the house, I was struck by how bare it looked.  I soon
realized the house wasn't bare.  The placements of the items were such that
the house had a very open feel.  I liked it and could feel myself relax in
the atmosphere.

The pond was already filled with water.  Peter already had the water lilies
in place and many of the plants he wanted along the edge.  Mom and he talked
about this plant, shrub, or tree as I walked around the yard.  There were
still patches, here and there, where you could see the conventional
landscaping of the former owner.  It was obvious that these scars on Peter's
masterpiece would soon disappear.

I found myself wondering back through the house.  I came to a mantle that
held two Japanese swords.  In the center of the display there was a
photograph of an older Japanese man with his hand on the shoulder of a young
Caucasian boy.  They were both dressed in kimonos and Japanese skirt pants,
which I would learn was called a hakama.

I guessed that the man was Dr. San and the boy was Peter. It took me awhile
to figure out what I liked so much about the picture.  Then suddenly I
realized that it wasn't as formal a picture as I first thought. Peter and
Dr. San were leaning slightly toward one another and Peter's hand was
gently...caressing?  No. It's hard to explain what the hand, near the older
man's right thigh, was doing but I knew that the placement of that hand was
an act of love.

"You like them?" Peter's voice caught me by surprise.

"Yes," I answered quickly looking up at the swords, "Are they sharp?"

"Mmm," he affirmed, "Very."

"Cool." What else could I say?

The water for the tea was ready.  Peter treated us to real Japanese green
tea and pastries.  The tea was really bitter but the pastries sweet.  With
practice, I learned to savor both tastes separately and at the same time.  I
was enjoying my newly found skill when I realized that the conversation had
turned away from horticulture and on to me. Mom and Peter were staring at me
like they were expecting me to answer a question.

"What?" I said in self-defense.

"Mmm," answered Peter and I felt crushed.

"Peter is an expert in karate," Mom explained, "Andy, weren't you
listening?"

"I was thinking," I responded regaining some of my dignity.

"A very good quality," Peter smiled.  I felt vindicated but blushed shyly.

"Then it's settled," Mom beamed, "You can help Mr. San finish his garden and
he'll teach you Karate.

Helping with the garden I didn't mind at all.  I would have agreed to do
that no matter what.  But the Karate thing, I just didn't want to do.  I
quizzed mom, after we left, over and over trying to find out when the
conversation turned to me taking Karate.  All she really ever said was, "We
were just talking."

*****


Peter dropped by the next day.  He gave me a Gi: a Karate uniform consisting
of pants, jacket, and belt.  When I said, Thank you, Peter," he bowed
slightly and said,  "You are welcome but you should never address me by my
first name.  It is disrespectful to address your master in that way. See you
tomorrow evening." I nodded and decided, at that moment, to talk mom into
getting me out of taking the lessons.

When Peter, Master San, opened the door he was already in his Karateuniform.
  Mine was still in the bag he dropped off to me the day before. He bowed
slightly at the door.  I waited for him to invite me in.  He bowed again and
I half-heartedly repeated the movement.  He stepped aside and let me enter.

Once inside he took me to the room with the swords.  He bowed again and I
repeated the movement.  He stared at the bag at my side.

"I didn't know how to put it on," I explained truthfully. I also didn't want
to be seen in public wearing the thing even if I was only going next door,
but I left that part out of my explanations, "And I think you gave me the
wrong one. The belt is black."

Peter smiled, "It is not a rank insignia.  It is to secure your jacket."  He
reached out his hands and I handed him the bag.  We sat on the floor
together as he removed the items.  I watched the gracefulness of his
movement.  The "V" cut of the closed gi top he was wearing exposed enough of
his chest that I knew I had been correct in thinking that he wasn't fat.  I
began to feel my cock stir in my pants.

"Here," he said holding up the gi pants, "This is the front.  Stand and put
them on."

I was suddenly frightened and embarrassed. The adrenalin rushed in me -
knowing I was getting sexually arouse mixed with images of taking my pants
down in front of this man and of him noticing my hard-on -  I was turned on
and frightened by the prospect.

Peter noticed my struggle and said, "We are both men.  What happens here -
remains between us."

I nodded and stood.  I removed my shoes and then undid my belt, unzipped my
pants, slid them down my thighs and step out of them one leg at a time.  I
meant to turn around, show my shyness and my modesty, but somehow I wasn't
feeling embarrassed about allowing Peter to see me.

He held the gi pants out to me.  I think I was supposed to take them and put
them on myself but instead I placed my hands on Master San's shoulders and
stepped into the pants.  I was completely hard.  My cock made a tent in my
underpants revealing my excitement.   Peter took a moment to admire me.  He
ran a hand over my brief covered hip and down my thigh before sliding the
pants over my ass. He then showed me how to tie them in front.

None of it felt awkward and I removed my shirt as soon as I was told.  The
uniform added to my erotic state.  When you wear a western shirt and pants,
you feel concealed, somehow distant from your body.  At least that's how I
feel.  Wearing the Japanese uniform, however, I felt completely different.
My body felt free.  I could move like I wanted without restraint.

We started by stretching.  Master San would direct me, teaching me by
example, sometimes having to physically touch me.  I was trying to focus on
the lesson, (I suddenly wanted him to like me), but each time he touched me
a flash of pleasure would run through my body like electricity.

"You're not listening," I suddenly heard him say.

"I'm sorry," I stammered.

"What were you thinking about?" he asked and I began to blush.  "Ahhhh," he
said smiling knowingly, "You are having trouble dealing with your feelings?"

"Yes," I whispered nodding.

"The martial arts are not only about fighting and self-defense.  It's about
learning how to deal with the struggles of life. I can help you through
this, if you like," he finished.

I nodded.

"Are you sure?"  He asked to further explain, "It will mean you will be my
disciple.  You will do everything I tell you. In return, I will teach you
everything I know about life."

"Yes," I answered, "I understand."

"Stand up," he ordered, "Remove your gi bottoms and underwear.

I didn't hesitate.  I didn't hurry.  I simply did as I was told.  I stood in
front of him, naked from the waist down with the tip of my hard penis
touching the front of the stiff oriental gi top.  Peter lifted the front of
the top and examined me.  He looked up into my eyes and told me to lie on
the floor.  I did as I was told.

He folded the gi top away from my cock.  I felt his thumb and two fingers
begin to massage my stiff member.  I took a deep breath.

"Breathe slow," Peter instructed, "In through your nose and out through your
mouth.  Force the air down, into your belly."

I tried.  I focused on breathing like I was instructed. The feeling in my
cock continued to grow but I didn't feel like I was going to lose it
immediately anymore.

"Good," Master San said bending over me and taking me into his mouth.

"Oh God, Oh God," I began to pant franticly at first.  I was breathing
rapidly through my mouth like some pregnant lady in a documentary.  I
involuntarily gulped a larger amount of air and tried to exhale slowly.  On
my next intake, I forced myself to breath through my nose.  Slowly I
regained some control but I knew no amount of breathing was going to stop
what was coming.

"Good," Master San said again releasing my cock, "That was a very good
start.  You show excellent promise."

"Please," I whispered from somewhere within the mist of ecstasy.

He lifted my legs over my head and told me to relax.  I felt his mouth on my
anus, followed but his tongue pushing its way in.

"A martial artist must be relaxed and flexible," He instructed.

I continued to breath and focused on relaxing my body.  I began to feel his
tongue gaining easier access to my inner regions.  The muscles in my legs
relaxed.  Nothing was left but the pleasure of the Master's tongue.  My
natural flexibility took over and I opened myself to him, enjoying having
his tongue darting in and out of me.

"Good," he said again letting my legs fall.  My cock was jumping in small
circles and leaking pre-cum. "Shall we finish your first lesson?"

"Yes, please."

"Yes, please what?"

"Yes, please master."

"We must be balanced in our approach," he said as he bowed and took my cock
in his mouth.  Two fingers of his right hand found my anus opening and slid
in.  I breathed in deeply and allowed the muscles to relax.  He probed my
ass, stretching it and pumping it, while his mouth and tongue washed over my
cock.  A flame ignited in my loins.  My entire body seemed to be lifted from
the ground as he stabbed my accepting hole while sheaving and unsheaving my
cock in the hot wetness of his mouth.

His fingers pushed deeper into me.  I grunted.  Again he pushed.  My cock
became full with hardness.  It was alive with the feeling of his swirling
tongue.  He pushed his fingers again into me and I yelled for release. My
ass clamped on his fingers, refusing to let them go. My hips thrust upward
forcing as much of me into his mouth as possible.  My cock began to twitch
and pump cum out of me, and into my Master, each time my ass contracted upon
the fingers buried in my ass.

*****


Mom asked how the first lesson went.  I told her that the martial arts were
more than fighting and self-defense; that they were a way of life. I told
her that I had learned to breath properly, to be relaxed and flexible, and
to maintain balance.  She was really amazed that Master San could teach me
so much in just one lesson.  I admitted I was wrong for not wanting to go.

"Well," she said ruffling my hair, "If he can teach you that much in one
lesson, I wonder what you'll learn in the second lesson."

So did I.  I couldn't wait!

End.

*****

"Karate Master" is part of the Tom Cup Short Story Galley
All Rights Reserved

To support this, and other stories by Tom Cup, visit:
http://tomcup.isCool.net
Send comments to: tom_cup@hotmail.com