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Ch. 01: Aleda and the Swan
Note: Words in brackets are from “Leda and the Swan” by William Butler Yeats.
“Hello. This is DreamWeavers. ‘Tell us your dream; we’ll make someone cream!’ Darrin speaking.”
“Uh, yes, I’d like to place an order,” a firm, older woman’s voice says, “you know, for a…sex story.”
“Sure, ma’am. I’ll need to ask a few questions.” I go through my standard checklist. The client wants a “wedding night” story for her daughter who’s getting married next month. “Something that, you know, will help her understand what I want her to,” she says.
“Romantic? Rough? How many times do you want her to cum? Her husband? Will the bride be wearing leather?” I try to get as many details as I can. “Do you have pictures of the participants that you can fax me?” I ask.
We settle on most of the details. “The pre-story is free. Each cum scene costs two hundred dollars. Afterglow scenes of more than one sentence cost four hundred dollars–they are such an incredible pain-in-the-ass to write. I should be able to do this for about four-fifty. I’ll have it in a couple days.” She says that will be fine and I get her credit card number and pound away at the keys.
Aleda and the Swan
It has been the week from hell. Last minute fittings for dresses, tuxes picked up, flowers delivered, a fucking cold sore nursed with Carmex and lots of cover-up. Still, on Saturday morning, Aleda looks as she had always hoped she would on her wedding day. Plus, she had managed to lose those last 10 pounds during the previous month!
“Dear,” her mother says, “you are radiant! Simply aglow!” Aleda’s jade eyes gleam against her rosy skin. Her pink lips are moist in their smile. Each blonde hair is sprayed into the right place. The gown clings to her sexy figure perfectly. She is now the perfect gift for her Josh. “My little Aleda,” her father says, kissing her cheek, “you could not possibly be more heavenly!”
“Oh, Daddy! Thank you! Hold me–I’m scared too!” She could not tell them how Josh had seemed to have changed since their engagement. Before, he had courted her, written her poems, sang with her in the car. Since, they stopped going to movies and dinner and concerts, the poems stopped, they didn’t listen to music together. Like he just wanted to get the wedding over with.
She does not remember most of the ceremony, actually. She remembers quivering as her father walked with her down the aisle. She and Josh had written their own vows and had practiced them to the point she had been saying them in her sleep. “Respect for each other as a human being….” was part of them. She remembers Josh placing his deceased mother’s wedding ring on her left hand. The picture-taking afterward seemed endless and her eyes were numb from strobe lights ceaselessly flashing. “Now, one with you and the best man. Now, you with the ring bearer. Now, you with….”
As they ride in the limo to the country club, Josh keeps trying to feel her up. “Don’t, Josh!” she says. “You’re my wife now, honey!” he replies. “Yes! Wife!” she counters. “Not your dog’s fucking squeeze-toy!”
They dance, visit tables, and pay homage to Ann, the dowager aunt of Josh’s family. It is de rigeur. Josh’s father, Cordell, dances with Aleda several times, each one a little closer, a bit more intimate. Though she has spoken with him but a few times and always superficially, Aleda does not mind–Cordell is simply an older version of Josh physically, but with polish and panache. His white hair sparkles against his tux and tanned skin. Though he is now retired, Aleda feels her hand disappear into his still-rough masculine hand. It feels secure, comfortable. At the end of one dance, she lightly bumps her hips against him. Cordell kisses her hand. While she is not sure he is in fact flirting with her, she is pleased with the idea. Maybe I am flirting with him!? At least one of the Yates men is treating her as special on this day. Josh, meanwhile, is taking full advantage of the open bar and playing touch football with his work buddies, using a bridesmaid’s bouquet. He is, in everyone’s eyes, becoming a lout. Even Cordell cannot convince his son to act something like a grown-up. ataşehir escort After every few songs, Josh goes up to the band and asks them to play “Louie, Louie.”
At ten-thirty, Josh and Aleda quietly exit to go to their room. This is only possible because Josh is about to pass out. He complains that he wants to throw one more TD, though the bouquet had disintegrated into two red carnations and a gold ribbon. His friends are either passed out in chairs in one corner or puking their chateaubriand with sauce bernaise into toilets, urinals, and vases that once held fresh flowers. Josh leans on Aleda for support and collapses in a chair as soon as they enter the room. He starts to snore. Aleda sits on the edge of the bed and cries. “I married a shithead!” she sniffles to herself.
It is a warm September evening. Instead of taking a shower or bath, Aleda decides on a late evening swim. She carefully removes her gown and hangs it up, changes into her bikini–they were to fly to Aruba in the morning–grabs a towel and a light robe and her key, and slips out the door. She needn’t have been so hushed.
Aleda quietly enters the cool water and floats on her back, noticing the star-studded, fathomless black sky. She recognizes Venus and Mars, as well as the constellation Cygnus, the Swan. Aleda laughs to herself about the irony of the sky’s two brightest stars on that night. When she had read the book, she had agreed her relationship with Josh would be different. “What a joke!” she now laughs. She tries recalling the myth of Cygnus and can only remember he was a soldier killed during the Trojan War. His father, Poseidon, transformed him into an elegant swan as he took his dying breath. Aleda loves the archetypal beauty of mythology. She sighs deeply. Gods and goddesses of utter beauty and power. Olympus. Ambrosia. Wicked couplings. Transformations. “I’d turn Josh into a football. Let him be kicked around all his life. Let centers drip snot on him.” Aleda giggles at the thought.
While she floats and dreams, she senses another presence with her. As she is about to stand and look around, she floats into someone’s arms.
“My sweet Aleda,” Cordell says. “What on earth are you doing here? Where’s Josh? Aren’t you two, you know, supposed to be sharing the conjugal bed, as they say?”
Aleda is speechless, embarrassed…and inexplicably excited to be held by her new father-in-law. She feels in his arms the same as she felt when they danced. Secure and comfortable.
“Oh, Mr. Yates! I’m so….” and she begins to tear-up. Cordell continues holding her, bringing her slightly closer to his chest.
“My dear, don’t cry. It’s okay,” he urges. “Did he pass out on the floor or on the bed? The son of a bitch!”
“The chair. By the door. I think he pissed in his pants.” Aleda says through quivering lips, but still managing to laugh at the image.
“Not the best end to what should have been the happiest day of your life, sweet girl!” And he brings her closer to him. He holds her [helpless breast upon his breast]. “You’re much too pretty and wonderful and loving to be treated like that.”
Aleda is touched by Cordell’s understanding, his strength and honesty. “Why do I feel so good with him,” she asks herself over and over? Then, she lifts her arms and places them around Cordell’s head. She pulls him toward her and raises her mouth. She kisses him, loving the heat of this moment–in a pool, kissing her father-in-law with passion and depth, wanting nothing more than for him to make love to her. “Am I taking this too far?” she wonders. “Was he only trying to comfort me? Oh, God, his kiss is hot and sexy!” She feels his [strange heart beating where it lies].
Cordell releases one of his arms, allowing Aleda to stand. He brings both around her waist and pulls her toward him. Their kiss does not break. She reaches around him and places her hands on his ass and immediately realizes he is naked. She is completely startled and jumps back from him.
“Mr. Yates…I…” she stutters.
“Cordell, Aleda. I’m Mr. Yates to the neighbors’ kids! We’re adults. We’re family now. A little skinny-dipping in the dark late at night, avcılar escort that’s all. I wasn’t expecting my daughter-in-law, you know!” Aleda looks at him. She can only see him from the waist up but she sees that he is gorgeous, a man used to labor but refined and tempered, elegant. She moves back toward him. “May I join you, then,” she asks, giggling and feeling her heart race. “I could not think of what I would like more!” His eyes sparkle like blue stars.
“I brought some champagne,” he says, as Aleda removes the bottom of her bikini. “Would you like some? I only brought one glass, though.” Cordell reaches for the bottle by the pool’s edge. He pops the cork as Aleda takes off her top and her beautiful breasts make him lose his breath.
“I’d love to, Cordell. Pour me a glass!” He hands her the glass he fills and she drinks it eagerly, thirstily, letting the bubbles tingle her mouth and carbonate her entire body. Then, she lies on her back. “Now, you can drink from me. I will be your glass of champagne!” she laughs. With one arm under her near-weightlessness for support, Cordell pours champagne into the depression her stomach makes. He sips, at first, and then slurps from her, licking up the wine. He pours more on her beasts and licks the drops as they cascade from her, tongueing her nipples that are hard, firm points of fire in the cool water. Aleda moans. He pours some onto her pussy and bends over to suck the amber dew. Aleda moans again and holds him there with one hand. “Drink deeply of me!” she whispers.
Cordell moves Aleda so she can rest her backstretched arms against the pool’s edge. Her body extended, he moves between her legs, dips into the water, and rises with them on his shoulders. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever been with!” He kisses her lips, uses her tight ass to pull himself firmly to her. She grinds herself into him, and with her feet against his shoulder blades, urges him to her. He slowly inserts his tongue and swirls it, around her, all over her. She wiggles her ass in pleasure. He licks her clit and her body jerks out of the water. He licks again and she jerks. He presses it hard against her bud and she stiffens, her whole body erect. “Oh,” she says quietly, never having been touched there by a man’s tongue, and now, this man creates electricity bolting through her, creating glory throughout her [loosening thighs].
Cordell reaches for the bottle and pours more champagne on Aleda and resumes drinking her, sucking on her cunt and swallowing both wine and woman. Aleda alternates squeezing her thighs and releasing them, as though trying to suck Cordell’s entire head into her. As he sucks her clit, he reaches up with both hands and massages her breasts, rubs her nipples, receives their rising heat. Aleda pulls his head hard to her. “I have never felt so good like this. Ever! Oh, Cordell, this isn’t right. This is nothing but right! God. Ooooh!”
Cordell drops into the water and Aleda stands against the pool wall. She is startled at his sudden disappearance, the warmth from her cunt gone. But within seconds, she feels him again, sucking her beneath the black cover of the pool. He sucks her and licks her harder than before. Aleda feels her face and arms flush as his invisible presence staggers her. She spreads her legs wide. She begins to shake, at first she thinks from the cool night air, but soon realizes it is from the beginning of her orgasm. She reaches below the surface and pulls Cordell as hard as she can to him. He sucks her once more. Aleda stifles her groans into passion-filled grunts. Again and again she cums. Her toes curl. Her back arches. Her head thrashes from side-to-side. He licks her again. Aleda shudders. Goose bumps cover her flesh.
Cordell stands before her. She embraces him, placing her head to his chest. She just squeezes him to her as tightly as she can. She cannot, but does want to, believe this man, not her husband, has made her feel this way. He holds her back, gently and lightly. It is so quiet they hear the stars twinkle.
She reaches for his cock and feels temperature and hardness. Though she has never touched a man’s cock, always hated seeing pictures of cocks, avrupa yakası escort erect or soft, she now cannot imagine not having Cordell inside her. He moves her hand away.
“Aleda, sweet Aleda. That was an honor and pleasure for me. You make an old man feel special, wonderful. You are precious, dear, luscious. I am drunk on the taste of you!” He pauses. “You are also my son’s wife. Now.”
“It is the father that I want, that I crave! Cordell, please, let me have you!”
He pulls her hard against him and kisses her with all the passion and wanting he has felt for her since they first met. They pant in a rhythm of [brute blood,] rubbing against each other, his cock twitching against her cunt, her nipples heating his chest, their hands groping and squeezing each other. They leave the pool, hating the moments apart. Aleda lies down on a lounge chair, her knees up and spread wide. Cordell stands, his cock inches from her face. Aleda sucks him and is stunned by its hardness, how firm flesh could ever be. He lays atop her. “Are you sure?” he asks. “As sure as I have been of anything,” she whispers to him.
She guides him into her and Cordell lets out a soft, long moan. He does not move but pauses to enjoy Aleda’s termperature and moisture, her tightness. She tenses her cunt muscles and he moans again. It has been a long time since he has felt this kind of passion. He begins slowly fucking her. Aleda thought she would hate a man inside her, practically dreaded this wedding night. Josh was so clumsy making out, squeezing her breasts, slobbering in her ear. But Cordell is so gentle and graceful and careful. Now she wants nothing but Cordell inside her, thrusting and retreating, filling her, creating heat and desire. The best part of her day, maybe the best moment of her life. She kisses him hard, her tongue exploring his mouth as his cock continues to fuck her. She reaches for his ass to feel the tensing and release of muscles as they shove his cock into her, grind into her, explore her. “God, Cordell, you make me feel as I never have! You feel so fucking good and hot in me. Make love to me. Fuck me!”
His pace quickens and her heat rises. Her mother had told her to lie back and enjoy it as best she could, that it would be over soon. Aleda does not want this to end. She wants him to fuck her on this chair, then on the grass, in the pool, on a golf cart, against the vending machines, in the middle of the fucking ballroom and let the guests dance around them while they make love. Anywhere he wants to fuck her she will let him, welcome him, beg him to. “My Aleda, oh, my sweet!,” Cordell whispers. He is pounding into her and she cannot want him more. “This is the most natural act I have ever done in my life,” she thinks. What will it be like, this man cumming inside me? Now, there is [a shudder in his loins], and she suddenly knows as his seed erupts in her, spurts of heat splashing into her, his moaning, his tenseness. The radiation of warmth throughout her. “Oh, God, Aleda,” he moans. “Oh, sweet fucking God!” Then, the quiet again.
“Look up, Cordell,” Aleda says. “See those stars that form a cross? That is Cygnus, the Swan. They outline his body and wings.”
Cordell looks up to where Aleda points. “There, too, look next to it. That is Lyra, the Harp.” She kisses him deeply, smothers him with kisses, moves her hands all over him, wanting to touch him completely.
“You are the constellation in my heavens. You have brought music to me! How can I return to your son and listen to him snore?”
“That is the commitment you vowed to today. I don’t know what you will do, Aleda. Do what you need to, want to.” Cordell looks back up to the sky. “C’est magnifique!” he exclaims. “Thank you…for this moment…and for the stars!”
Aleda kisses Cordell one more time. As she puts her robe on, she spies the cork from the champagne bottle. She quickly picks it up and inserts it into her vagina. Aleda returns to her room. Josh is on his back, half naked and half awake, on the bed. “Where ya bin, honey?” he slurs.
“Oh, Sweetheart,” Aleda says, getting on the bed, removing the cork, and straddling his face. “Eat me, please!”
“Honey! Baby! You taste so good!”
* * *
“Was the story okay, Mrs. Yates?” I ask when she calls.
“Oh, yes, Darrin! Beautiful and elegant!” she replies. “Cordell would have loved it! I never did tell him how that night ended! And neither he nor I could ever tell our daughter how we met.”
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