The Start of Time

by Marilyn Foxworthy

She said, “Oh stop, it’s terrible! This didn’t happen with your mate, I know that it didn’t!”

  I said, “No, my wife was a very good woman. But even so, communication was sometimes a lot of work and misunderstandings were common. We loved each other and remained faithful until the day she died…and I never loved anyone else until today.”

  She said, “At death, the bonds of the body and custom are dissolved and the bonds of the heart weaken. I’m glad that you loved her. Will you tell me her name? The name of your son’s mother?”

  I said, “Her name was Autumn.”

  She asked, “Was she beautiful? I won’t be jealous. I hope that she was beautiful.”

  I said, “Princess, she was beautiful by the standards of my world. Not overly so, but pretty and I thought that she was very attractive. But my love, I won’t compare you, but I will say that you aren’t from my world no woman of my world could never compare to you in sheer beauty of the body and pure loveliness of heart. The artists of my world who attempted to paint the most beautiful women would go blind upon seeing how beautiful you are.”

  Aeyli-ah said, “Oh, a poet!” and she smiled at me. “A poet and a potent lover! I am the most fortunate princess on Barsoom!”

  We laughed, and held each other. She spoke again, “My Prince, um, you haven’t seen other men yet, nor other women, but I will tell you that you bear certain differences.”

  I said, “Oh, like what?”

  She smiled and said, “Well, for one thing, you are a bit taller than most. Most men of Barsoom are no taller than I am. And, of course, there is your strength and the speed with which you can run. Your skin is a different color than most, but as I say, skin color is becoming less differentiated now. And…”

  She slid her hand down from my chest to my groin and began to stroke my penis softly, “…and there’s this. You are longer than my hand and my fingers barely reach around you. You’re very beautiful. Other men aren’t so big. The older women told stories of the stamina of their mates with pride, at how they could make love for several minutes at a time, often as much as once a week, and that sometimes, maybe a few times a year, that she might even have an orgasm if she were lucky on that day.”

  She continued stroking me, “But, you my prince! You have shown me more in each touch than women experience in a lifetime. I had my first orgasms as I fed you…even though you were unconscious at the time! No one will believe that even dead you can excite me to climax. And when you fed me, I climaxed again even though this time I was the dead woman. But just now, as we truly coupled, if any woman had ever experienced anything like that, it would have been a legend and her prince would have been forced to take several princesses. It has never happened, or I would have heard the legend.”

  I said, “Aeyli-ah, I know that you are telling the truth because I can feel it, but that’s hard to believe. And I don’t want to be the subject of legends. Please, let your happiness stay between you and I, I beg you.”

  She smiled as she continued to stroke me, “Well, that’s a hard request…it’s so very hard,” and she squeezed me to emphasize her point. “But, it’s probably for the best. It wouldn’t be boasting, but yes, I’ll keep your legend a secret. I may have an obligation that requires me to tell it at some point, but I’ll do my best to keep your legend to myself.”

  I knew that what she said wasn’t idle flattery; the nature of the communication made it plain when someone was telling the truth or teasing or hiding something. There was some element of secrets that she wasn’t ready to share, but no hint that she had anything but pure admiration when she extolled my sexual virtues.

  By now, her soft attention to my manhood had me anything but soft. I pulled her on top of me and pushed her into a seated position, straddling my waist.

  I said, “Princess, I took my turn, now take yours.”

  She looked down at me and said, “What do you mean?”

  I pushed my hips upward and moved so that the tip of me pushed into her vagina an inch and then I pushed down on her hips and she slid all the way over my hardness.

  She gasped and said, “Oh, oh, this is new!” and she rotated her hips, feeling me stir the inside of her wetness.

  I took her breasts in both hands and fondled her lovingly and said, “You asked for a thousand times before morning.”

  She moaned and said, “But My Lord, you have blessed me 999 times already!”

  I could tell that she was exaggerating, but that she was also ready to continue our night of passion.

  She said, “But, if you insist, I will serve you as best I can. If I die, write a poem. An epic about the princess who died a thousand deaths in one night.”

  I moved my hands to her thighs and lifted her up a few inches and then plunged her back down.

  She cried out, “Oh, Lord, My Prince, this is new!” and she began bouncing and I went back to fondling her breasts and playing with her wonderful nipples. After experimenting with various motions for a few minutes, she settled into a routine that she obviously found satisfying. She’d raise up so that just two inches of me was still inside her, swirl her hips to stir the front of her vagina, then push slowly down to the full length and grind hard against my pelvis. Her movements began to take on more urgency, not necessarily in speed, but in intensity and her squeezes and grinding were firm as she stiffened and held her various motions for seconds at a time. Her breasts pressed into my hands, obviously enjoying my attentions and before long I heard her first cry of climax.

  With her orgasm, she began bouncing up and down, less concerned with the specific motions and more concerned with friction and contact. As her next ‘little death’ hit her, I held her sides to steady her…and a fine stream of milk shot from each breast and sprayed my chest and face! It was all I could do not to explode hard myself at that moment, but I held back, wanting the experience to continue.

  I cupped Aeyli-ah’s breasts and with each of her orgasms, I squeezed, encouraging another spray of the sweet liquid. My efforts were amply rewarded as spray after spray of the milk poured from her body, showering me from head to chest. And with each flood of warm milk, I came closer and closer to the point of no return. Her climaxes continued and finally, I couldn’t hold back. On her next climax, I squeezed both breasts very firmly, directing the spray directly toward my face and I lifted my hips and poured my own spray upward into the orgasmic bride.

  In all of this, I hadn’t really paid much attention to my own physical sensations very much. I had spent more time trying to focus on my lover’s body than my own, but my time would come.

  My princess finished when she felt me relax and she lay herself on top of me with her head at my cheek.

  I said, “Oh, My Dearest, you certainly leave me no doubt. Our love is genuine beyond measure.”

  She smiled and said, “Yes, but Mark, I’m no longer able to call you ‘My Prince’.”

  I could tell that some tease was coming and she continued, “No, you are my king! If the world were ruled with your scepter, it would be a wonderful place.”

  A person of Earth can never understand what it’s like to hear words like that and know that they are true in the mind of the speaker. Yes, lovers say things like that, and they may mean them just as sincerely, but on Earth, the hearer would never hear it the way that I did now. I held my love to my breast and we rested.

  After some time, and perhaps a small nap, though I wasn’t sure, I said, “Aeyli-ah, perhaps we should work on weapons.”

  She jumped up and knelt over me and said, “An excellent call to action! We have loved more tonight than any on Barsoom experience in a lifetime ! Now we’ll prepare for battle so that our lifetimes will be long! Come on, King Mark, show me what you have in mind and how I can help.”

  Chapter 9 Making weapons

  Aeyli-ah jumped off of me and landed on the floor and pulled me to my feet. I went and took the longest of the poles that I had brought with us and measured it against my hip from the floor to my waist.

 
; Aeyli-ah said, “Oh, by the way, we don’t need to fear the animals below tonight. Our screams of passion have certainly scared them far away for this evening. Some may return before dawn, but those that were here an hour ago may never return,” and she laughed…and I knew that she meant it to be true.

  I held the staff at my hip in the place I intended to cut and then I turned it over and measured it against Aeyli-ah’s shapely hip. It was just long enough for two wooden swords, Japanese-style Bokken, that hoped to make.

  I showed my companion the place where I held the wood and said, “We should start by cutting here.”

  She went to my belt and took my knife and sat on the bed and held blade between her legs with the sharp edge down. She said, “The wood is very hard, but your knife is exceedingly sharp. The Warlord has given you a great gift. This is very old, and very valuable. But more useful than valuable. Don’t ever part with it. Here, see the point? Place the pole…Mark, this is hard…no, I mean, this is…oh by the spirits of ancestors! ‘shaft, pole, hard,’ it all makes me think about love now! You beast! OK, ignore my innuendo. Put the point to cut against the top of the blade where the tip is sharpest and rotate it in your hands against the point.”

  I sat at Aeyli-ah’s feet, distracted by the beauty of the perfect pussy between her legs, but forced myself to focus on the work as much as possible. I lay the pole across her knees and she pressed the point into the wood at the point we wanted to cut. I rotated the post down against the point and we were rewarded by a fine shaving of wood and a small groove cut cleanly into the surface. Using this primitive, improvised lathe we cut by degrees and sooner than I would have expected, we had cut the pole into two pieces. I double checked the lengths and found them suitable. I held the staff at my side, letting it touch the ground just in front of my toes on my right foot and marked the point where my thumb and finger grasped the handle with a very shallow groove all the way around. I did the same to get the length of the matching one that Aeyli-ah would carry.

  I said, “Now we need to trim the sides all the way down from the handle to the end on both sides.”

  I expected that this would be a tedious process of whittling the shaft by degrees, but Aeyli-ah took the first shaft from me and braced one end against the top step of the bed platform. She took the knife and pulled it 3 inches out of its sheath, leaving the protective cover over the tip and lined up the blade with the line that I had indicated as the width I desired. She handed it all to me and said, “Push.”

  I stood at the top of the pole, placed one hand on the handle of the knife and the other palm against the sheath and pushed downward…and the knife cut cleanly in a perfectly straight line! I had to push hard, and the lower gravity prevented me from staying on my feet, but by sitting on the bed and hooking my legs against the step and drawing the knife toward me, I was able to shave off the entire side in one long pull. I turned the shaft and cut the opposing face in the same way. Aeyli-ah’s hands were a little smaller than mine and after cutting the side of her bokken to the correct width, I made a third cut along the top to size the handle for her.

  After that, I sliced the wood in the same manner from where the handle met the blade to taper it to a surface about a half an inch wide. I didn’t want a sharp blade, I wanted a strong one. It wasn’t meant to cut like a metal blade would. It was meant to focus the power of its impact to a half inch area that would transfer a hard blow to its target. I took two cuts on the opposing side, the back of the blade to give it a more rounded shape. I did the same to Aeyli-ah’s blade. The entire process so far had only taken a little less than an hour; I would have expected at least eight hours if I had done the same on earth, but the characteristics of the wood and the exceptional properties of the knife allowed me to rough cut the shapes in fairly short order.

  When the rough cutting was done, I explained the shape I wanted, a smooth rounded handle and blade with a sloping rounded tip at the end, and I took the girl’s knife and I handed her mine and we sat side by side and carved away the straight lines and flat surfaces. Even with my much greater strength, Aeyli-ah finished her sword before I did. First, she was using the sharper knife, but perhaps more importantly, she was much more practiced and much more skilled than I was. When her blade and handle were smooth, exceptionally smooth, she shaped the tip as I directed, and then took my partially finished weapon and completed it as well.

  The results were better than I would have imagined possible. The swords were solid, very smooth, fit well in our hands, and based on the custom sizing were even surprisingly balanced. When held in two hands, and using proper technique, the blow delivered would be devastating to both muscle and bone. I carefully examined our work and was very pleased.

  This was good. Of the tasks that Carter’s message had set for me, I had learned to walk and run, I had found a beautiful Martian girl who hadn’t killed me and had taught me the language, we had found water and a safe shelter, and we now had weapons that would help us in any circumstance short of a gun fight.

  Aeyli-ah was pleased as well. She said, “Mark, the shapes are very good, but I don’t quite understand the purpose. These won’t cut. They won’t draw blood, and they aren’t designed for piercing. The handle is too long, at least compared to swords that I have seen. You have been very deliberate and it’s clear that you know exactly the purpose that you have for these, but I don’t know what it is.”

  I said, “Here, let me show you. I hope that I haven’t wasted our time. See how I grip the handle in my right hand here at this point?” She imitated my grip and I said, “Now, lift the sword and hold it in front of you. Take your other hand and place it under the handle, resting it on your little finger, like this. Leave a fist length of the handle open between your hands. Straighten your arms like this.”

  I went on to teach her proper stance and cutting and thrusting techniques. She was a fast learner and it was rare that I needed to repeat any instruction.

  I said, “Now, we have five primary targets. First is the head. Either straight from above, or like this, at a downward angle into the temple and ear. Both sides. Second, across the chest area, down onto the collar bones, or directly against the shoulder. The blow to the head, striking with the forces that I’ve shown you will crush a skull or at least knock your opponent unconscious.”

  She practiced the second move and said, “And this will destroy the arm and shoulder! I see. This is no primitive club. Mark, this has a very good feel to it. Show me more.”

  I continued, “The same blow can be directed at an elbow or ribs. Attack major joints: head, neck, shoulder, elbow. The third technique is targeted at the wrist and hand. If your attacker holds out his hand to you, take away his ability to hold a weapon or to strike you with it. The fourth move is against the thigh and knee. Crush his hip or knee and he won’t pursue you.”

  She repeated, “One: Head and neck. A killing blow. Two: Shoulder and elbow. The loss of an arm. Three: Wrist and hand. The ability to hold a weapon or strike with the hand. Four: Hip and knee. He cannot walk or give chase. Not only is the weapon good, but the technique is direct and effective. So, there’s no parry and thrust and feint? No endless exchange of sword play? Just target, opportunity, disabling stroke. Mark, this is brilliant swordsmanship. You must have been a fierce warrior on your world.”

  I laughed, “No, there was little opportunity for real combat on my world. Wars were fought from long distances by powerful guns and airships. But this type of practice was used for tournaments and exercise…but not by many. I was a teacher. But my students were businessmen, children, and women.”

  She said, “Perhaps, but here it will be a great protection. And, these are wood. Even if we faced a steel sword, it wouldn’t cut through our weapon, and even though we might bleed, our attacker will be crushed or dead. Show me more.”

  We practiced for a while longer. Attacks and movement. Advances and retreats. I stressed the supreme importance of timing and watching for a clear opportunity before attacking. I t
aught her my motto of ‘once shot, one kill, no exceptions’. Eventually, I began to teach her defensive moves against blows from all directions.

  We took a break, but Aeyli-ah was eager to keep going. “Mark, you said that there are five basic techniques, but you have shown me only four. Where’s the fifth? Is it very deadly?”

  I said, “It may be, but for these weapons, it may not always be. It is very damaging though. The fifth move is a straight thrust, like this. The targets are face, throat, chest, lungs, heart, stomach, and groin. An attacker struck hard with the point in one of those areas, especially the eye, nose, mouth, and throat will be disabled for several seconds, if not permanently. Here, practice like this and I’ll show you the defenses as well.”

  We practiced for another half hour or so in the dim lights and Aeyli-ah became surprisingly proficient.

  The night was getting late as Aeyli-ah asked, “Is this all of it? What else can we practice?”

  I said, “From here, there are a series of patterns, like dances, where we practice against invisible opponents attacking from different places. Some of them against two, three, or even four at a time. I’ll teach you all of them. I need to practice all of them again myself.”

  She cocked her head and looked me over. She smiled slyly and said, “Hm, but now, you tire of sword wielding women and your mind turns elsewhere. What is your desire My King?” She held her sword pointed down to the ground and used her arms to push her luscious breasts out toward me.

  I leapt the short distance between us and disarmed her before she could react and caught her up in my arms and said, “I want my Barsoomian beauty between the furs, snuggled in my arms!” and I lay her on the bed and pulled a covering over us. “Keep me warm princess. The morning will come soon enough.”

  We giggled and kissed each other, wrestling playfully for a minute and then we curled up together and prepared to sleep.

  She said, “I love you my Mark. I will make you happy here.”