Tor Kung: My Mother Taught Me

Again I felt a twinge of shame. Why was I always looking at the women so intimately?

As Louise began to play an etude, Annie, the maid, brought in a large silver tray with four demitasse cups and a pot of coffee. She placed it on the low table in front of Mother and Father. Gunilla got up and, taking the cups, passed them to each of us in turn. Then she picked up the silver pot and began to fill the cups as the maid left.

Gunilla was beautiful beyond belief. She wore a tight, gray, knee-length skirt under which her body seemed to squirm as she walked. As I was watching how her skirt showed the movement of her full thighs, I realized suddenly she was coming now to serve me. As I was holding the cup in my lap, she had to lean forward to pour. The faint perfume from her platinum hair which came to my nostrils as she bent forward stunned me. I was all confusion and breathless. Then I noticed her blouse fall away from her body as she poured. I had been right. There wasn't anything underneath! Only Gunilla! I was suddenly confronted by her bare, voluminous breasts, firm, yet somehow soft. I almost passed out. How I managed not to drop the cup I don't know. I shook my head slightly, and when I realized she had moved away, put my cup down. My head was burning. Hot and cold flashes alternated in my body.

She had poured herself a cup and sat on the arm of the couch beside Father. I was terribly excited, and the shame I felt at my reaction was drowned in my desire. I gulped my coffee quickly and asked if I could have more in a small voice. Gunilla quickly rose and, with a smile in my direction, returned with the pot of coffee. This time I was looking for something. I wanted to see those tips of her breasts. She leaned down slowly and even more slowly began to pour coffee into my cup.

I was puzzled by the slowness. At first I thought she might be afraid of spilling some, but when I noticed the smile on her lips this seemed unlikely. Then I saw the blouse falling away from her body as she bent again, and I almost touched her head as I bent forward to look. I could see the tanned flesh swelling out, down in the blouse: how the skin darkened in shadow as it entered the ravine between. She must have drawn in her breath (although I did not notice), for the soft flesh rose out suddenly towards me as though disconnected from the rest of her. The two breasts moved farther apart and the warm surface of the skin seemed to undulate with separate life. Her chin was almost above my head which enabled me to peer directly in, at the same time bringing the flesh almost to touch my crazed lips. But the breasts were so large that even so I could not see the tips. They were lost in the front of the blouse where the incredible flesh moved and swelled out of sight. Just as she started to straighten I had a glimpse of something, but she straightened and asked:

“Well, would you like sugar this time? You didn't say before when I asked.”

I couldn't get the breath to answer properly. “Uh no… no sugar, thank you,” I stumbled. I tried to smile but the trouble was I couldn't see her. All I could see was those breasts. I again gulped my coffee without tasting it, waited a few minutes somehow, and then gasped out my desire for a third.

Gunilla's eyebrows raised slightly at this and she smiled. Very slowly this time she walked towards me with the pot, staring at me with that smile, and calmly undoing a fourth button on her blouse as she got up. She reached out as though for me to hand her up the cup and when, filled with confusion, I continued to hold it in my lap, her lips smiled again slightly and, very slowly, she leaned down to pour.

There they were again, but more of them, the skin all tan and clean and moving. She bent far forward above me now, and by leaning forward slightly myself I looked directly into her blouse. Never had I seen flesh as soft as this, and their size was incredible. The breasts swung free now like live things in the loosened blouse, and my face was almost in them. Then, to my intense joy as I looked along the magnificent curve of them, I finally saw the mystery I was searching for. Just at the end, where the breast pushed into the blouse, was a circle of pink colored flesh as wide as three of my fingers. In the center of this was a hard pink bud about the size of an acorn which pushed into the blouse as I had seen before.

All over me the skin felt pricked by thousands of needles and I was shaking. I could not understand why the sight of this strange difference between boys and girls so excited me, but I knew that it did and that this was shameful. But somehow, at least for now, I didn't care. As she straightened, Gunilla looked keenly at me, buttoning her blouse while I fixed my eyes on her shoes and muttered my thanks. My mouth kept moving back and forth.

I was very confused, but as I gradually began to gain possession of myself, I heard Father asking for coffee, and dimly realized that it was his third cup. Gunilla got up, turning her back to him, and picked up the coffee pot from the table. As she did so I noticed that she quickly reached her left hand to her blouse and undid a button, then went to the couch and bent low to fill Father's cup just as she had mine. Was it my imagination, or did she seem to lean down just a little longer than was necessary to fill the cup? Father raised his head and seemed to look covertly into her blouse! Indeed, I thought I saw his eyes narrow and his nostrils flare. But I could not be sure for Gunilla had straightened again and, replacing the pot on the table, resumed her seat. All was as before. I looked hard at Father's face which I could see clearly in profile, but it was as serene and elegant as always.

I flushed with shame at attributing to this fine man the same low tendencies that I had. Certainly the Brahes would never have taken me from the orphanage to be their son had they had any inkling of this strange wickedness in me-these ugly thoughts. And, reflecting so, I gradually overcame the odd excitement that had been troubling me. I swore not to allow any more of this sort of thing and, above all, not to permit myself to ascribe to these noble people the sort of perverted impulses I found so rampant in myself.

At this point Mother got up and came over to me.

“Lars, dear,” she said, “As you are no doubt tired from the long trip, you should come with me now and lie down in your room to rest.”

“Yes, Mrs. Br-uh-Mother,” I said. Blushed. Smiled somehow at the others, and followed her out the door into the hall. Mother took my hand and led me to my room, then left me there to rest.

But it was impossible to remain still. I wandered out in a daze of happiness looking at the fairy tale richness of the house. No one was in the living room now, so I supposed all the family had gone to lie down. I was sitting in a high-backed chair by the fireplace when I heard someone come in behind me. Because I felt guilty at not being in my room as I had been told, I remained still, hoping the high back of the chair would hide me. It did, too well…

“But, Daddy, you were away in England such a long time. I was so lonely without you. I'm so glad you're back!”

It was Gunilla's voice, but the tone was a little strange. It was very sweet, but somehow drawled, seeming to suggest something unknown to me beyond the words themselves.

“So my little girl really missed her daddy, did she?” It was Father's voice, and the tone was questioning. “Just how much did she miss her daddy? And what did she miss most?”

Gunilla only giggled at this.

“Come now, tell me how much my little girl missed her daddy!” There was an odd tone in his voice that vibrated in me in a way I didn't understand.

Again she giggled, but this time it seemed partly muffled. She said:

“Oh, I missed my daddy, very much, but he'll have to go a little to find out!” And another giggle followed by a little cry.