Chapter 6

There were very few books in the house. Five not counting Mary's dirty books to be exact. They were: The Bible; The Farmer's Almanac; The Independent Farmer, published by the Department of Agriculture in a fit of Jeffersonianism; Great Figures in American History; and Greek and Roman Myths.

Nobody knew where the last two had come from.

Greek and Roman Myths was old and dogeared, pages were missing and the back cover was torn off.

Nevertheless, Connie one day had sat down to read it.

It had been many years ago when she was twelve, or eleven, and she had not grasped the pagan eroticism that pervaded the stories of the old gods. The addition, meant for high school had been carefully rewritten so as to be as opaque as possible.

But now, when she remembered one of the stories, she saw it differently.

She put together the euphemisms of the book with the cocks and cunts that she had seen and tried in action. Suddenly, things made a lot more sense.

Or some of it did.

One story that still baffled her was the tale of Leda and the Swan in which Zeus came to earth in the form of that fowl and took his pleasure of Leda that way.

Connie had no trouble at all with the concept of fucking animals. She had seen big sister with Bing lapping big sister's cunt. And she knew about Spence, Spence with his cock up anything that had a hole.

No, the concept of fucking animals was very familiar to her. Comfortable even.

But a swan?

How?

Connie figured, at first, that it was just because a god was in on it. After all, it wasn't really a swan, but a god disguised as a swan. She dug it though. The thought of gods who went around fucking, and would disguise themselves, sneak around, perform rapes even, just to get a piece of pussy or a taste of cock, definitely appealed to her. It was a kind of god she could relate to.

She sort of wished that they were still around to come and rape her. If an animal was good, and a man was better; it would be utterly fabulous to be fucked by a god.

She could envision it perfectly.

A night of wild thunder and lightning. Crashes and flashes. She would be shivering in bed, huddling under the covers in fear. Then a peaceful center would move through the storm towards her. And finally, it would come into the room. In the middle of that, would be a being who was the power of the storm itself. The god.

He would be disguised as an animal: a bull, a swan, a goat, a bear. With a huge wonderful cock.

He would take her away in his cloud and with his magic cock he would rape her.

There would be a searing pain as the giant cock tore through her virgin barrier.

But as soon as he started his powerful strokes, the burning pain would fade away and become tingling pleasure. The downy animal fur of the god's chosen form would caress the tender lips of her pussy, soothing them, and rubbing the soft insides of her thighs, stimulating them. And she would come and come and come, while the storm raged around them.

In the morning, she would wake up, stiff and sore, but satisfied. The rest of her life would be spent searching round the world to find a fuck to match the fuck of a god. An effort doomed to failure; but noble and uplifting, almost religious in its futility.

Still, the swan bit bothered her.

They had a couple of swans around. One old male named Max, and two females named Mean and Stupid. Max was the only one whose name was not appropriate; he was both mean and stupid. Besides, he had a small cock, a tiny little thing, suitable for fowl but not for a real woman's cunt.

Again, she tried to dismiss it with the thought that it was a supernatural swan and it had a supernatural cock.

Connie was, in part, a very romantic girl. Sure she knew her own world and she had a certain hardheaded realism, but every adolescent girl has a romantic element in her. The story of Leda and the Swan was a romantic one, and the image it conjured up was a beautiful one. The supine woman being taken by this animal which was one of the prettiest and most graceful of all nature's creatures, with its pure white color and long elegant curves.

So Connie dreamed her swan dream over and over again.

Finally, she decided to do something about it. To act it out. She hoped fervently that it would work. If it did not, she figured it would at least cure her of her obsession.

The question was how to get Max to do it. The first problem was to get him to be cooperative at all, basically he was mean and vicious. Foul as fowl as the saying goes.

The second problem was to get him up. Connie simply had no idea what turned a swan on. And once he got it up she wasn't sure he was big enough to matter he would dent her instead of busting her.

Connie was determined to try.

Mary had some old sleeping pills around that the doctor had once given her.

On the day she was determined to make it and break it with Max, she stole a pill and put it in Max's feed.

The swan got stoned out of his mind.

He became lazy and lethargic, even letting Connie pick him up and carry him to the secluded spot she had picked out ahead of time. Normally, he would have jabbed his hard bill at her, powered by the sweeping action of his long, strong neck. Swans' necks are not only pretty, they are strong. And they use that length to get momentum for their attack. He would have bitten her also.

She was dressed as she normally did when the hot spring sun was shining: the shortest of shorts and skimpy halter made from a bandanna and a piece of string.

It took her less than a second to get rid of it all.

Her big boobs hung free and the nipple instantly hardened at the light touch of the breeze.

It was because she was so ready; so hot for her dream fuck.

Her pants fell away. Down there too, in her thick blonde bush she was ready, warm and damp.

She touched herself to check, although she already knew. Her finger slid through the yellow jungle of curling hairs slowly as she teased herself.

When she reached the top of her slit, she found that her lips were parted and her finger fell right in to the waiting greased cleft.

The first thing it hit was the protrusion of her clit.

A sharp tingle jabbed through her in a burst. It was like the chills, coming outward from her hard clit around the back and over her ass, down along her tender inner thighs, and up over her golden fleshed tummy.

It felt so good.

She just had to rub it some more.

Her fingers began to make slow circles over the protrusion. It grew; a little longer, a little thicker, a little harder. And it felt better and better.

Her bare feet wriggled in the dirt as she spread her legs to accommodate her searching hand. Her knees bent outwards to increase the spread of space that gave pussy access.

Her hand slid toward the back of her cunt, toward the waiting hole.

It went easily and her cunt ached to be filled.

Her finger hovered around the tight opening. She ran it tentatively around the outer edge of the cavity.

All the while, she kept her eyes on dopedup Max who sat there calmly, and somewhat stupidly, looking back at her with a blank expression that only birds are really capable of.

His form turned her on.

The sheer whiteness of him. Purity for her perversion. And most of all his neck. The long curving phallic neck, arched and sinuous, like a soft feathered white snake.

She hoped his cock would be as beautiful and exciting.

Her finger slipped slowly into the tight pussy hole. It was hardly stretched and each time her finger went in she had to restretch it.

It clung tightly to her hand. It was hot. It was moist.

Smiling, she realized that her pussy would be a real treat for a man as soon as she decided to let a man in.

And it would be soon. First, the finger. Then the swan. And then: Spence?

The hell with the finger, she thought, it's time for the swan.

She withdrew her hand from her richly haired pussy. Her cunt let it go with a wet reluctant "thumph" sound.

She got down on her knees and grabbed Max. He came to her without resistance. But he would not let her turn him over. He stuck his webbed feet to the ground and resisted. If she pushed harder than he could resist, he just stepped to the side, always maintaining his upright position.

Finally she gave up. She would do it his way and reach underneath his stubbornly upright form and find his cock. It took her but a single glance to see that it would be easier to reach from behind than in front. The distance was shorter from there.

She got around behind him and slid her hand under his rounded softfeathered rump.

And found nothing.

She poked and prodded and could not find a swan cock.

She ruffled feathers. She parted feathers.

She knew he had one. She had seen him mount the females, Mean and Stupid. But she, being neither Mean nor Stupid could not find it.

Max, meanwhile, was having a reaction. He did not like all this poking and prodding into his precious private parts. Maintaining his dignity, making a fuss about it, he began to walk away.