Adele had always loved swans. As a
child, she’d loved being taken to the park to feed them, tearing pieces off
slices of bread and throwing them into the lake. The swans would thrust towards
her, pushing up little bow waves, and as they came close, she’d giggle, and
hide behind her mother’s legs, as if they were after her.
She was in her teens when she came
across the story of Leda, and Zeus turning himself into a swan, which she
thought had been written just for her, with ‘Leda’ being almost ‘Adele’ backwards.
Overnight, Johnny Depp seemed to grow white feathers, and her erotic dreams
changed direction. She looked at the pictures of Leda on the computers in the
library, and although she didn’t think she looked at all like the voluptuous
women in the paintings, there was enough variety that she reasoned there would
be room for a flat chested skinny girl with glasses somewhere.
She tried reading more Greek myths,
but the other images of Zeus, muscular, violent, and bearded, she found
distinctly unappealing, so she read about swans instead. One of the first
things she discovered was that a male swan was called a cob, which she imagined
as the combination of ‘cock’ and ‘knob’. Unfortunately, she also discovered
that male swans didn’t have a cock (or knob), just a kind of general purpose
hole, called a cloaca, which was the Latin for ‘sewer’. It only briefly dented
her enthusiasm, and she decided that ‘cob’ was a much better name for a penis
than ‘willie’. She took to collecting swan feathers from around the lake in the
park on her days off, which she used to tickle her girlie bits until she could
no longer hold back, plunging two fingers inside as her thumb scrubbed against her
burning clittie, squeezing out her orgasm. The feathers were definitely single
use, ending up soggy and bedraggled, and often bent where the shaft wasn’t
strong enough to withstand the demands she put on it.
She took a break from the feathers
when she was nineteen, and she started going out with Dave Swann, her first
proper boyfriend. He worked with her in Sainsbury’s, and it wasn’t just his
name that attracted her. He was tall and handsome, slim and clean shaven, with
smooth skin, and not at all like Zeus. To begin with, she enjoyed having him
stick his cob in her bits, but it never lasted long enough, so she always ended
up having to use her fingers to reach a climax, while he sat and watched. After
a couple of months, she dumped him, and went back to using the feathers.
As winter burgeoned leafily into
spring, she continued feeding the swans on the lake in the park, and she began exploring
around the edges, hunting for a nest. She never found a nest, but she did find
a secluded gravelly beach, strewn with white feathers, and hidden from the
paths by a dense stand of cherry laurels. When Adele stumbled upon it, it felt
as if it was the perfect spot for a tryst with Zeus, in spite of all the blobs
of swan shit, and her thoughts of finding a nest fell away. She collected half
a dozen of the long feathers, as precious as angels’, planning to use them
later, but her girlie bits were already tingling with anticipation. Wishing
she’d worn a skirt or a dress, she kicked off her shoes, struggled out of her
jeans, and squatted on the little beach, going to work with longest of the
quills.
She was already oozing when the swan
arrived, with little swishing noises as it pushed through the water towards the
beach. Adele kept on going. She couldn’t have stopped, even if it had been a
policeman, or her mother. Dropping the broken feather, she slipped her fingers
inside, and moaned as her thumb hit the spot. “Oh, Zeussie.”
The swan stepped up onto the beach,
its big black feet slapping in the shallow water, and Adele wished she’d kept
some bread back, so that she could feed him. She wasn’t actually sure that the
swan was male, but since it wouldn’t have a cob in any case, it wouldn’t
matter. As she got her breath back, still squatting with her hand between her
legs, she whispered to him. “Hello, Zeussie. I did that for you.”
The swan made a chuckling noise, as if
he’d understood, and he rattled his big orange beak. He took two steps towards
her, and sat down, watching her, and reminding her of Dave Swann.
“I’ve already come. Do you want me to
try to do it again?” she asked, still keeping her voice down, as if someone
might be listening.
She might have been mistaken, but she
thought the swan nodded, and he certainly made the chuckling noise again.
“Okay.” Her bits were sore, but she
picked up another of the feathers she’d left next to her jeans and pants.
Working around the outside, and keeping an eye on the swan, she tickled herself
until the soreness was replaced by the familiar tingling. The second time
around, she was gentler with her fingers, but her orgasm was no less intense
when it came. The swan just watched.
She stood up carefully, in case she
should startle the swan, but he seemed no more surprised than he had when he’d
watched her, merely turning his head to follow her movements as she picked up
her jeans and shoes. Once she was dressed, she thanked him for the feathers.
“Bye, Zeussie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
When she went to bed that night, she
thought about masturbating again, but she was still sore from the afternoon, so
she just held her fingers against her bits to keep them warm, until she fell
asleep, and dreamt of Zeussie. In her dream, he had a proper cob, like Dave Swann,
but unlike Dave Swann, he brought her to a climax, his feathered belly between
her spread legs, like in the paintings.
The knocking on her bedroom door woke
her up. “Are you all right?” her mother asked.
Half asleep, Adele tried to reorient
herself, as the swan disappeared into the darkness. “Mmh. Yes. Why?”
“You were crying out. Can I come in?”
“Yes. Of course.”
Light from the landing flooded past
her mother’s silhouette as she entered the room and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Were you having a nightmare?”
Adele said, “I don’t remember. I don’t
think so.” At least the second part was true.
Her mother touched her hand to Adele’s
forehead. “You feel a bit hot and sweaty. Maybe you’re sickening for something.
Who’s Susie?”
“Susie who?” Adele asked.
“I don’t know. It’s what you were
calling out. ‘Oh, Susie’. Over and over.”
“I don’t think I know anyone called
Susie.”
Her mother fetched her a glass of
water, and sat with her while she drank it, as if she might cheat, and pour it
away somewhere. “You know you can tell me anything you want,” she said, as she
took the empty glass.
“Thanks, Mum. I expect it was just a
dream. I don’t think I know anyone called Susie.”
In the morning, her mother asked her
again if she was all right.
“I’m fine. Thanks for the glass of
water.” After breakfast, she took a slice of bread, put on a cotton skirt, and
set off for the lake. She hadn’t put on a pair of pants, and in the cool of the
morning, the breeze wafting around her bits felt delicious. On the other hand,
fighting her way through the cherry laurels to the little beach had been much
easier in a pair of jeans. The twigs and the brambles caught on her skirt, as
if trying to keep her from her destiny.
Zeussie wasn’t anywhere to be seen
when Adele finally got to the beach, but she didn’t mind, she was prepared to
wait. She found a patch of gravel that didn’t have any swan shit on it, and sat
down, pulling up her skirt to let the sun warm her thighs and her bits. The
swan arrived a quarter of an hour later, announcing its approach with the
familiar swishing in the water.
“Hello, Zeussie. I’ve brought you some
bread today.” Adele hadn’t actually planned what she was going to do, apart
from feed the swan and masturbate, so she waited while Zeussie slapped his way
out of the shallows and came towards her. Opening her legs, she tore off a
piece of bread and threw it between her ankles, wondering if Zeussie would come
that close.
He did. Waddling slightly, he bent down,
and gobbled the piece of bread, clattering his bill. The next piece of bread
went between Adele’s knees, and Zeussie snapped that up as well, taking a
couple more steps to get close enough. Trembling with anticipation, Adele put a
piece of bread on her thigh, near the top, hoping that Zeussie wouldn’t bite
her.
Zeussie took another step, so that his
body touched the inside of her leg as he bent forward to eat the bread. He
didn’t bite her, and the nibbling tickled. Adele crumbled what was left of the
slice of bread as close to her bits as she dared, right up to the edge of the
hairs, and as Zeussie worked away, hoovering up the crumbs and catching her
hairs in his beak, she felt herself getting wet inside, as if she were playing
with a feather.
When the last of the crumbs had gone,
the swan seemed to look at her, and then he settled down between her knees, the
way he’d sat further down the beach the day before. Carefully, so as not to
disturb him, Adele slipped her fingers inside, and pressed her thumb on her
clittie, biting her lower lip to stop herself from crying out, in case it
frightened him.
Zeussie was unperturbed, but after
she’d come, and she took her fingers away, he nosed between her legs, as if
sniffing her, and he clacked his bill.
“Thanks, Zeussie,” whispered Adele,
reaching out to stroke his neck. The swan appeared to like the attention,
stretching out his neck and making little muttering sounds.
She stayed there until her back began
to ache. “Sorry, Zeussie. I have to move. Sorry.” Carefully, she eased herself
away from the swan, who remained where he was, following her with his small
dark eyes. Adele patted his head before she left, but she resisted the
temptation to bend down and kiss him. “Goodbye. I’m afraid I have to work
tomorrow, but I will be back, I promise.”
The morning had warmed up, but the air
around her hot bits still felt cool as she sauntered home, humming T Rex’s ‘Ride
A White Swan’ under her breath. She cleaned herself up in the bathroom, and
reluctantly put a pair of pants on under her skirt.
It was a couple of days before Adele
was able to return to the little beach, but when she did, the swan was already
there, as if waiting for her. “Hello, Zeussie,” she whispered, lifting up her
skirt to show him that she wasn’t wearing pants. “I’ve brought you some bread,
too.”
The swan chuckled, and turned to face
her as she sat down on the gravel.
Adele didn’t bother throwing a piece
of the bread between her ankles. Instead, she just crumbled the whole slice
over her upper thighs and her pubic hair, and by the time she’d finished and
was leaning back, Zeussie was already settling between her legs and nibbling,
his beak making the little rattling noises. He tugged on the hairs as he tried
to get the bits of bread out, which made Adele gasp with pleasure, and when she
brought her knees up, he nipped her clittie with his bill.
“Oh, Zeussie,” she murmured. “If only
you had a cob.”
By the time he’d finished the bread,
Adele was so aroused that she scarcely had to touch her bits to bring herself to
a quivering climax, so that even Dave Swann would have been able to deliver.
Afterwards, she squirmed down, so that her bits were touching the swan’s
breast, which she hoped might make her look a bit like Leda in one of the
paintings, except for the glasses, and Zeussie didn’t appear to object.
The following day, the weather wasn’t
as good, with the sky overcast, but it was still warm, so she wore just a
summer dress and a pair of slip ons, and took the Leda theme still further,
undressing completely on the little beach, except for her glasses, which she
left on so she’d be able to see properly. Zeussie just stood and watched, and
when she sat down, he waddled up to settle between her legs, even before she’d
crumbled the bread.
Instead of putting all of it around
her bits, she spread some of the bread over her belly and her chest. She hoped
that Zeussie might start at the top and work down, but in fact he picked up the
biggest pieces first, dipping his head here and there, and nibbling. It was
still exquisite. He caught one of her nipples in the tip of his bill, which
caused her to squeak, but it didn’t faze the swan, who just kept on nibbling,
leaving the crumbs tangled in her pubic hair till last, probably because they
were the hardest to get at.
When he’d finished, she fingered
herself quickly to orgasm, and lay back, naked except for her glasses, with the
swan between her thighs, as if they’d really made love. She must have dozed
off, because the next thing she knew, it was starting to rain, with big cold
drops hitting her warm skin. Trying not to disturb the swan, she struggled to
her feet and put her dress back on. “Sorry, Zeussie, got to go.”
It didn’t rain especially hard, but by
the time she reached home her dress was wet, and clinging coldly to her skin.
She took it off and hung it over the banisters on the landing before she
fetched a towel to dry herself off.
The dress was still damp when her
mother came home, and asked about it.
Adele just shrugged. “I went down to
the park, to feed the swans, and it came on to rain. I got a bit wet.”
The rain marked a change in the
weather, so Adele had to resort to masturbating with feathers again, which she
found disappointing after her adventures with the swan. To make matters worse,
her bits started to itch, leaving her with an almost uncontrollable urge to
scratch. She made an appointment to see her doctor, who said she’d better take
a look.
“Just slip your bottom things off and
climb up there,” she said, pointing at a leather couch.
Adele took off her jeans and pants,
and lay back with her knees in the air while the doctor’s rubber gloved fingers
poked and prodded. Unlike Zeussie’s bill, the fingering was just uncomfortable.
“Hmm. It looks a bit red. Can I look
inside?”
Adele nodded. “I suppose so. What is
it?”
“Probably an infection. Are you
sexually active?”
“No.” It was almost true.
“Right. Let’s have a look. This might
be a bit uncomfortable.” The doctor picked up a plastic speculum, but when she
opened and shut it, it clacked, the way the swan’s beak clacked, setting
Adele’s mind racing.
Adele heard very little of the rest of
what the doctor said, and apart from the initial intrusive thrust as the
speculum was inserted, she barely noticed what was going on. She realised that
Zeussie didn’t need a cob, when he had such a magical orange beak that he could
use instead.
“I don’t think it’s thrush,” the
doctor was saying, as she withdrew the speculum. “It looks like a bacterial
infection of some sort. You can get dressed now.” She dropped the speculum in
the sink and started to peel off the rubber gloves. “I’ll prescribe some
pessaries, which ought to clear it up. You just put them in like tampons, and
they’ll dissolve, and I’ll prescribe some ointment for the outside. If it
hasn’t gone in a week, come back and see me again. I’ve taken a swab, which
I’ll send off, but you should be fine. You might just have wiped your bottom
from back to front, that’s the usual cause.”
“Okay.” Adele took the prescription,
but she wasn’t thinking about what the doctor had said, she was thinking about
Zeussie’s bill in her bits. She was tempted to ask if she could take the
speculum away, to practise with.
The itching eased in the first couple
of days, and Adele started to imagine that the pessary was a piece of bread,
which she’d rolled up, and as she pushed it in, she thought of Zeussie sliding
in after it, opening and shutting his bill as he tried to eat it. She was sure
that the ointment wasn’t supposed to be rubbed in vigorously, but she couldn’t
help herself.
On the other hand, she stopped using
the feathers, thinking that they might have been the source of the infection,
with all the swan shit on the beach, and not incorrect bottom wiping at all.
She didn’t throw them away, but she stuck to fantasy and fingers, which worked
just as well.
The week went by, the rain stopped,
and Adele’s day off dawned warm and sunny. She waited until her mother had gone
out, then she took off her bra and pants and slipped her summer dress on over
her naked body. There was plenty of bread in the bread bin, and she was tempted
to take two slices, but she worried that Zeussie might have had enough to eat after
the first one.
On the way to the park, she relished
the breeze around her girlie bits, which tingled with anticipation all by
themselves. The bushes seemed to have grown since she’d last been there, but
she managed to fight her way through the cherry laurels, and when she reached
the beach, the swan was there, sitting with his back to her, looking out over
the lake.
Trembling, she took her dress off. She
didn’t think she was in the least bit voluptuous, but she did feel beautiful. “Hello,
Zeussie,” she whispered. “I’m back.”
The swan clambered to its feet, and
turned, clattering his beak.
Adele lay down on the gravel, and
crumbled most of the bread over her chest and bits, keeping back a couple of
crusts hidden in her hand for the end. For a moment, she thought the swan
wasn’t going to approach, but after a moment of hesitation he waddled up, and
settled between her knees, eyeing her carefully before he started on the bread.
It was bliss, and by the time he’d
mopped up all the crumbs, she was ready to come. “Here, Zeussie, look what I’ve
got,” she said, holding up the crusts so that he could see them. She was so wet
and open that the crusts slid easily inside, taking her even closer to the edge.
Scarcely able to believe what was about to happen, Adele lay back, her heart
pounding, and the swan brought his wonderful beak down towards her bits.
