Date: Tue, 25 Dec 2007 20:59:37 -0800 From: Kevin Subject: Saved By The Boy, Chapt 2 Saved By The Boy Chapt 2 ============================================================== As usual, please pay attention to the laws / statutes / etc for the area in which you reside with regard to reading this type of material. If you are not 18, you are supposed to exit now. If you are offended by gay themes, particularly cross-generation feelings, relationships, sex, stories about such, etc, you should also exit now. What is written here is not to be confused with a recommendation that you go out and emulate this story, or its generally fictionalized characters. Barring that, read on. =========================================================== The next weekend, at about the same time, Nicky was there at the park as promised. Truthfully, after the innuendos dropped by me at our last outting I wasn't totally sure he'd show up, at least with any intention of meeting up as planned. "Hi Michael!" he beamed. "I read up on this stick stuff online during the week." I smiled, "Oh did you, now? Well, that's good. What did you find out?" "Well, mostly that all these martial arts weapons were what some farmers in Okinawa had left after the Japanese emperor made them all give up their swords, so most of the weapons were common tools, like for harvesting, walking sticks, that kind of stuff," he offered proudly. "True enough," I answered. "And what is this called?" I asked, indicating the stick. "Well," he answered, still smiling, "it's either a Jo or a Bo, depending on the length, but I couldn't find how long each was supposed to be. So, I dunno what this one is exactly." I was impressed. I wasn't sure if Nicky was genuinely interested in the subject, was following along the initial innuendos and trying to impress me, or both. Unless I missed my guess, it was both. Hmmm. "Not bad, Nicky, not bad," I praised. "This is a jo, because it's shorter, usually around 4 feet long. A bo is usually up to 6 feet long." "But if somebody shorter like me has to use a stick, it's gonna be shorter, so wouldn't it be a jo for you, and a bo for me?" "Nope. The name doesn't change. But, good thinking. Well, let's get started. Here's what I want you to do first...." ...and after an hour or so of showing him, letting him try it out, do the drill over and over, he was doing fairly well. Not bad for a first day student. "Ok, we should pack it for the day, Nicky. Thanks for coming," I said. "I had fun. I'm going to be sore tomorrow, though, I can tell." He rotated a shoulder a bit like it was stiffening up. "Hot shower, and ice if it continues to ache. But the hot shower and some sleep should do it," I offered. "Cool. Ok MIchael, I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked. "Yup, same time, same place." "Ok," and he walked off a little distance and turned. "By the way, I didn't come, I showed up. I know the difference," and he gave me a big Cheshire cat grin. I barely had time to recover, but nonetheless, "Oh that's right. You're having your growth squirts, oops I'm sorry, growth spurt now. My bad." He laughed and turned, waving as he shook his head, heading off toward the streets around the park. Now t-h-a-t was an interesting interchange. Still, the next day we were both arrived to the park at about the same time, waving at each other as we stopped near a tree or two, setting our stuff down on a picnic table. Once again, Nicky had done some homework. He said he took a push-broom handle off one of his granny's brooms, and practiced with that for a couple more hours after he left yesterday. "Well, cool," I said, handing him my stick. "Show me what you remember from yesterday." Overall, he did pretty well. He hadn't gained in any expertise, but that comes after many hours of sweat. He did, however, remember most of the moves I'd showed him. Not bad, not bad at all. We practiced for a bit longer as it'd be a week until I saw him again, if that soon, so more time put in seemed a good idea. Now, training like this is more than just moving the stick up and around and twirling it this way or that. It involves standing a certain way, and this wears a person out, and those muscles become sore and tired, too. About an hour into our practice, Nicky yelled, "Ow!" and laid the stick down and tumbled to the grass. I didn't see him hit himself, so I wasn't quite sure what was up. "Nicky, what happened?" I asked, genuinely concerned. "Cramp," he managed, through gritted teeth, "back of my leg." Yeah, that's no fun. I helped as best I could, but without heat compresses or a long passage of time or a jacuzzi there's not much you can do. Except for massaging it, and I for damn sure wasn't going to do that in the middle of the park lawn. The pain subsided somewhat, but even as he sat up on the grass it was obvious he was still hurting a great deal. "What should I do?" he asked. "Well, you've got a few options. You can go home and ask your grandmother to massage your leg for you..." ...he looked at me as though I'd lost my mind... "...or you can apply some hot compresses or take a hot bath." "Can you massage it? It hurts like hell," he said. "Um. Yeah, I can, but to be honest me massaging your leg in the middle of the park isn't exactly the best idea either of us have had so far." "How far do you live from here," he continued. "About 5 or 6 minutes," I managed. I wasn't entirely sure, although you sorta dream about these kinds of things, that I was ready for this type of an encounter, whether it was specifically sexual or not. "Would you? Please?" he pleaded, the unspoken part of the question being obvious. "Yeah, sure. Come on, let me help you up," and we gathered our things and hobbled to the car. Once at my apartment, Nicky instantly went for the couch, laying on his side. I washed my hands, and got a hot wet towel and told Nicky to lie face down on the couch. "I've got scotch tape across my butt, so I'll know if I wake up and it's gone," he joked. "Don't worry. I'll ask before I remove any anal scotch tape," I joked back, and with that Nicky lay face down on the couch, with his head propped up on his crossed arms. I put the hot towel on his hamstring, and told him to lie still and let it work a bit. "How long?" he asked. "About ten minutes, then I'll see how loose it is and whether or not it needs to be rubbed," I answered. "Ok," was all he said. "After about ten minutes, he said, "It still hurts like hell, and feels like it wants to cramp up again." "Ok," I replied, and I knelt down by the couch and took the towel off his leg. I hesitated slightly, and Nicky looked back at me. I rubbed slightly, and felt around until I located the knot. I touched it and he yelped. After apologies, I continued, and worked it the hamstring and rear thigh muscles until the knot just went away. "Just a little longer," he asked. "It's a lot better." So, I did. What I hadn't noticed until now was that Nicky was tensing his buttocks muscles up a bit, almost at a rhythm. Uh-oh. I guess I just decided to continue. And so did Nicky. It was less than a minute after I noticed that Nicky let out a loud grunt, followed by a series of small ones. He came. Obviously. He rolled over on the couch, facing me, a large growing wet spot at the apex of the outline of a healthy sized boyhood. "Sorry," he offered. "I couldn't help it, it just felt good and took my mind off the leg." He looked down at the spots. "Sorry about the couch," he smiled, and took the towel and wiped it a bit. "Aw," I fumbled, "it's ok. The couch has seen worse, and at least I made your cramp feel a little better." "Uh, that's an understatement," he giggled. Good GRIEF this boy was adorable! Of course, what ran through my mind were all the post-circumstance trepidations about what had just occurred, what if this, what if that.... etc. As if he read my mind, and probably my facial expression as well, Nicky said, "Michael, your first aid was excellent. I thank you for the hot towel, it worked great," and with that he put his index finger to his lips as if to say Shhhh. I nodded, "Yeah, happy to apply first aid whenever needed. I guess we'd better get you back to the park, or your grandma's." "Grandma's would be good, if you don't mind," he said. "Do you mind if I use your bathroom to clean up a bit first?" "Good idea," I smiled. "Yup," he smiled back, and was off to my bathroom, quickly making sure he was as presentable as possible. "To grandmother's house we go," he said cheerily. "You driving?" I asked. "Nah, sports injury. I think I need to be driven," he winked. I laughed, and we were off. In retrospect, it's funny how things can seem. Perspective is everything, and taking a look at something that you've already done, analyzing the parts and what was said can sometimes lead you to some interesting conclusions. Wouldn't you say? ============================================================== (responses can be sent to kevroc54321@tns.net) other stories: The Love of My Life, Until Zory Came Along, Hands on My Heart, Save the Boy (all under Gay / Adult-Youth)