She was wearing a well-worn pair of Converse; clearly, it was an element to help her dealing with nerves.I waved at her, standing up off the stool, hu...ging her softly as she got to me. We lingered in each other's arms, both feeling so at home and at ease. I was the first to break the hug, turning to the bar.“What would you like to drink, Becca?” I asked, looking at the bottles behind the bar.“A whiskey neat, please, which would you suggest?” Her voice was shy as she put her trust in my. 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. More

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