The First Thrust

"Rub it up and down," said Ruan. "Here, let me show you how."

Grabbing the sword from his young comrade he knelt on the grass, placing the blade on a boulder and carefully scraping the point with a whetstone. The movement caused tousled strands of black hair to flop around his broad muscular shoulders.

"Ah, I see," said Varro. "Up and down, to and fro, until the edge is razor-sharp."

Ruan nodded, rising to his feet and jabbing the sword at the empty air. Varro watched him, admiring his grace and skill, while wondering if he himself would ever become a great warrior.

"Tell me, Ruan," he asked. "How will I know if the blade is sharp enough?"

Ruan lowered the sword and handed it back to the youth, smiling at the clumsy manner in which the weapon was returned to its scabbard.

"You'll know as soon as you make the first thrust," he replied. "If the blade penetrates your enemy's flesh, in precisely the right place, you will know its point is keen." Reaching out to tap the youngster's nose, he added: "But your first thrust must be firm and true, or you might not get a second chance. It's all about technique. In fact, it's just like that important first fuck with a new girlfriend."

Varro frowned. "I don't understand."

"Let me explain," Ruan continued, grinning as he spoke. "Imagine this scenario, if you will: you meet a gorgeous girl, you take her home to your bed, you undress her and kiss her, you take off your clothes and lie on top of her. Do you picture the scene in your mind?"

Varro blushed deeply, lowering his eyes to avert Ruan's keen stare. "I picture it, yes. But I have not yet slept with a girl, for I am only eighteen and still a virgin."

"That can be easily remedied," said Ruan. "I will find you a good woman in the village tavern. But let us return to the picture in our minds. You're lying on top of your new girl, supporting your weight on your arms so as not to crush her beautiful young body. She's nervous, of course, not knowing if your first thrust will be gentle or rough. Her soft pink mouth is half-open and she's gasping in anticipation, her eyes wide with eagerness, waiting for your cock to enter her body. But, at the same time, she trembles with uncertainty, her pert breasts quivering against your skin as you loom above her."

Varro shifted uneasily on his feet, feeling a familiar stirring in his loins and hoping his trousers might conceal it. Ruan noticed the unease in the younger man's eyes and immediately paused.

"Are you alright, Varro?" he inquired.

"Yes, I'm fine," came the reply. "Please continue."

Ruan coughed, clearing his throat, before resuming his description of the imaginary scene. "By now, of course, your cock is as hard as steel. It aches and throbs as it hovers near her crotch, for she is indeed incredibly beautiful. Her face is a vision of loveliness, alive and expressive with the freshness of youth, her hair a mane of silk spreading over the white pillow. She is eighteen, like you, and every nerve and muscle in her slender body tingles with desire. And so the moment comes. The swollen purple tip of your shaft rubs gently against the smooth lips of her slit, her soft bristles tickling your foreskin as you slowly enter the warm slippery hole. An inch, no more than an inch, and then you halt, savouring the delicious sensations, listening to the small moans issuing from her throat. She whispers your name, inviting you to probe further, and you duly oblige. This is where technique really matters, Varro, for this is the moment when a girl makes her judgement: the first thrust. You take a breath and push forward, slowly and gently, plunging your manhood along her tight fleshy tunnel, feeling her fingernails upon your shoulders as you penetrate deeper. She gasps, and you gasp. She sighs, and you sigh too. Again she whispers your name, her mouth smiling as her eyes close. You bend your neck to kiss her, swirling your tongue across her teeth, feeling her eyelashes flutter against your face like butterfly wings. Her smile becomes a grin, her eyes open once more, and then you know for certain that your technique meets with her approval. All of her uncertainties disappear, her anxieties vanish, and a long night of pleasure truly begins."

Varro felt a dryness in his throat and a strange dizziness in his head. He knew that the bulge in his trousers was plainly visible, but there was nothing he could do about it.

"So, the first thrust is crucial?" he ventured. "In love and war alike, whether we use swords or cockstems, the same rules apply?"

Ruan nodded solemnly, placing a reassuring hand on the young warrior's shoulder. "Swords or cocks, the risks and benefits are the same. Make sure your thrust is well-aimed, but not hurried or hasty, and with the correct amount of strength behind it. Penetrate the flesh with skill and confidence, and you will get the result you seek: a slain enemy, or a satisfied girl. This is the best advice I can give you, my tenderfoot friend."

"I will heed your advice. But do you have more to offer? Especially about women?"

"Yes, indeed," answered Ruan, clapping his hands. "But my words will come easier over a jug of ale. The tavern awaits our presence!"

They collected their packs, cloaks and other gear, before taking a few sips from their water bottles, laughing as they drank. The afternoon sun was warm on their backs as they set off towards the village, walking briskly along the stony path that led down to the valley.