Naruto Penthouse Archives

Dear Penthouse,

I’m an avid reader of your quality articles, and find delightful inspiration in the letters shared in this column. While I feel my own modest escapades often match the experiences commonly bragged of in these pages, I never considered sharing one of them until now.

I knew him when he was young. He wasn’t always like this, but just a boy who had natural talent and a fierce determination to prove himself. I taught him for many years until one day he vanished. I didn’t think much of it at the time. As a teacher, I get used to it. But then one day, he returned.

He entered my dojo with a second level black belt and an ego that said he was level ten. Puberty was kind and the child I once knew was completely gone. The man in his place had brains, youth, beauty, strength, and could send flares of lust straight to the groin, with the rare curve of his lips. Male or female, it didn’t matter. He had them all eating from the palm of his hand and he knew it; all of them that is except for me.

When he looked at me I could see the way his eyes fell on my plain black belt. I could see the calculation behind his eyes, wondering, how many years had it been? How many levels ahead could I be? But he was just a nidan and he had many years before he’d ever catch me. The first time I allowed him to spar with me, I could sense his eagerness. His black eyes were full of determination and I admit he was a challenge. Still, all it took was one mistake and I had him on his back. He took my lessons a little more seriously after that. Or so I thought at first.

He first tried to seduce me when I was showing him a new hold. With his shoulder already pressed against my chest it was easy. All he had to do was nudge me in the right places and I got the hint. I told him to demonstrate the toss and when he did it correctly, I dismissed him. I can appreciate a good seduction, but it has no place in my dojo. The next day I wore my red and white belt to practice. The visual reminder of the gap in our levels was a swift motivator to cut the crap and concentrate. But the seduction attempt riled me up. Sure he was attractive. What healthy male or female wouldn’t want to get into his pants? But I am his sensei, and his lack of respect is what led me to decide to teach him a lesson. I decided I’d show him just how much he still had to learn.

It began with a private lesson. After I dominated him in a few practice rounds and built up his frustration, I said I’d teach him something new. I never said it was related to judo, but he assumed so at the time. By the time I was done with a run through I had him under me, on all fours, his back pressed against my chest. I told him to try to get free. I could see seduction attempt number two coming from a mile away.
To his credit, he did try at first. But I had him locked pretty tight and when he realized he wasn’t getting free, he decided to play a little dirty. He pressed against me a little more the next time he tried to get free. I admit all that “struggling” rubbed me in all the right places. The boy had skills. Unfortunate for him, I was the better master at turning one’s strengths against them.

I whispered a few warnings in his ear. I let him think I was further along than I was. He accused me of being a pervert and well, who am I to deny it? I told him to be careful or I’d show him just how perverted I really was. And when he responded by rubbing his ass decidedly against my groin, I interpreted that as an invitation. I let him work his magic, dropping whispers and nuzzling his hair. His spiky black locks were soft and smelled good. I told him as much. I loosened my grip intentionally to undo the belt holding his gi. I pulled it loose just in time for him to push me off and take his place on top.

He grinned in triumph, not bothering to ask as he kindly removed my own belt and gi. He tossed it aside, taking the opportunity to explore my body. He knew all the places to touch, all the right shifts in pressure and all the ways a tongue could tease a man. Or most of them at least. I let him tend to me like one helpless, observing his method and enjoying his technique. He stripped himself slowly, even slower than the kisses he trailed down my body with every inch of my skin he exposed. I admit I enjoyed myself and junior was pretty eager when he finally slid his slim pale hips between my legs. I can see why he was so popular. The boy had indeed become a man. And when he was ready to take me, and reached up for the protective mask I always wear, the one no student has been able to remove, he was in for a nasty surprise.

Never assume victory my lads. Conquest is never earned by mere signs of defeat.

I used my legs to grip him and reverse our positions. All it took was a clever roll and he was back on bottom. He was foolish to disregard our belts. By the time I was done with him I had his hands tied and held them high above his body, flat against the mat. I told him to try and get free.

I can testify now to just how strong those legs are, from foot to thigh, from pelvis to hip. The boy packs more than one weapon, if you know what I mean. Those legs were deadly. And they kept me exactly where he wanted me, one thrust at a time. I was almost tempted to let him keep it that way and slide myself onto the delightful appendage nuzzling me so persistently. But then what would become of my lesson?
I took that beloved belt of his and wrapped it firmly around both ankles. Not out of any disrespect for him or his accomplishments, but because it made things easier when I shoved my body between the ring of his legs allowing those milky legs to hug my neck. It was risky for sure. He could have choked me easily; and so I had no choice but to fuck his brains out to keep him too distracted to try.

I was pleased when he came into the dojo a little more humble the next day. He was too sore to be cocky and let’s say he never looked at my belt the same way again. Fortunately, that doesn’t stop him from requesting an occasional private lesson.
I tell this story not to boast of my own skills or prowess, but as a warning for the young and overly confident. Let it be a lesson to all that while an old dog may not learn new tricks, you can be sure he’s got a few tucked up his sleeve.

Ever Yours,
The Old Dog himself