then slowly another. She reached in and seemed to move with his hand, or perhaps she was stroking the hand while it caressed her.
“Be a good girl to your daddy and you’ll find out, little love…”
“But Daaaaddy!” She seemed to stretch out the word and caress it with her voice while she spoke. “You’ll have to really be good to your little girl, give her many, many nice things if you want me to…” She cried out again, squirming on his lap, and fell into a little peal of smothered laughter as he started to kiss her lips!
I was confused by the tone of all this, but I felt the strange excitement rising and rising…
Gunilla had withdrawn her hand now. I found myself straining and straining to see, but Father’s arm was in the way and cast a deep shadow.
“Come kiss your daddy, sweetheart,” he entreated and again there was a slight scuffle as he got his mouth on hers and held it there. Both seemed greatly agitated,
But now they shifted, he sliding her deeper into his lap and she bent back by his kisses, which he soon began to plant on her neck and down onto her bosom. Gunilla writhed against him and tickled his ribs. As he started back, almost growling (but with pleasure, I could see from his face) she fell backward supported by his arms and came completely into view for a second. But the light was bad and they were too far away.
He pulled her toward him again and began to run his mouth and one hand over her bosom, holding her with the other. She breathed hard and seemed to strain up eagerly against him.
I was maddened to see more! For a precarious moment I was almost so foolish as to think of leaving the safety of my high-backed chair and trying to move closer, but it would have been folly. I sat shaking with fear, yet passionate for a sight of that body at almost any price! But now there was a new tone in Father’s voice, an almost crooning softness.
“Did my little girl miss her daddy? Did she really miss him, eh?” he crooned to her. Gunilla was leaning back against him, her chin tilted slightly so that her hair fell over his shoulder and she was slowly and languorously turning the top part of her body first one way, then the other, seeming to twist slightly each time. And over and over the soft, crooning murmur of his voice always caressingly repeating the same phrase: “Did my little girl miss her daddy?” while his left hand slid in and out of the opening of her blouse. His right, meanwhile, was opening one by one the few remaining buttons as a high-pitched singing hum began to come from her lips.
Half-paralyzed by all this, I left till later any questions regarding the propriety of what I was doing. I was fixed there, held by forces within me too powerful to overcome.
“My baby, my little baby girl,” Father was crooning. “Did my baby girl really miss her daddy?” His left hand moved around and back and forth inside her open blouse. By now he had undone the last button and, as Gunilla squirmed and twisted more and more under his caresses, her breasts began to work themselves out through the front and into plain view. Gunilla seemed strongly affected by the caresses and soon was lying back against him with her breasts completely exposed. Finally I risked kneeling on the seat of the high-backed chair and stared at them from the gloom. At last I had a clear view of them and Gunilla’s naked breasts completely absorbed my bewildered eyes.
Father’s hands kept running over them, stroking the soft sides with his fingertips and brushing his palms across the bursting pink buds of first one, then the other. Still again he would place his entire hand over the breast with the tip against his palm and gently squeeze it. And always the sing-song voice:
“Did my little baby miss her daddy? What did she miss, huh? Was it this, little lover, this? Or this?”
And from Gunilla, as his hands moved more and more deftly over her swelling breasts, came more and more this high-pitched mewing.
And I was transfixed! I could not breathe! For, while I had seen those glimpses earlier, this was the first time that I had really seen a girl’s naked breasts and I was bewitched! They were so large, lifting far out from her chest despite the fact that her reclining backward tended to flatten them, and the hard, pink buds at the end of each were swollen and rigid. The soft, luminous quality of the flesh caused me to be seized by a paroxysm of excitement such as I had never known. My penis was tingling all over and growing and swelling out so that it hurt me against my pants.
Mesmerized, Gunilla reached her own hands up to her breasts and began to lightly stroke the edges of the buds with her fingertips, then resting her hands on his, she guided their caresses.
“So my little girl did miss her daddy a little, did she? My baby missed this and this, did she?”
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy…” Gunilla muttered over and over between open lips as she writhed in his lap.
Father was aroused by her excitement. Suddenly he reached his hand down and slid it under her skirt. His action had pulled the garment up and I could see that he was stroking her thighs. Gunilla threw her head further back as she continued to murmur over and over:
“Daddydaddydaddydaddy…”
Now he reached further up, then even further, finally moving his arm back and forth, although what he was actually doing or why I could not tell.
At each motion of his arm Gunilla let out little cries and moans. Her giggling had ceased altogether and her face seemed to be undergoing some great inner struggle, coupled with a rising pleasure. I had gotten an intense cramp in my stomach so bad that I could not have moved, even if I thought they might discover me there.
Father was moving his arm back and forth with a rhythmic motion now and with each stroke Gunilla moaned louder. Her voice had become a sing-song whine crying only “Daddyohdaddyohdaddyohdaddy…” while he rubbed and caressed inside her skirt.
With a rising feeling of power he was crooning. “Did my baby miss me, now? Did my little girl miss her daddy, after all?”
But then, as Father opened his mouth and bent forward as though to take her left breast in it, Gunilla suddenly leapt out of his grasp and onto her feet. She pulled her open blouse together and dashed for the door! Before I could move, or Father raise a hand to stop her, she was gone.
I was so astonished that I was unable to get my bearings. Father sitting where he had been, but with a puzzled and-somewhat angry expression on his face. Then, just as I had sunk down out of sight and was striving to collect myself and to consider how best to leave the room without being seen, I heard the door connecting the hall to the kitchen open and, to my amazement, Annie entered the living room. She walked over to Father and said:
“Miss Gunilla said you wished something, sir.”
Father blinked, looked at her a moment, then said, “Why- uh-yes. Yes, Annie, I did. You’ll do fine.”
He ran his eyes slowly over her and moistened his lips with his tongue. Annie stood awaiting his instructions.
“What would you wish, sir?” she asked.
“Why-uh-some champagne, Annie, and two glasses.”
“Yes sir,” Annie said and moved across the room to a sideboard of finely carved mahogany, opened it, removed a bottle, two fine long-stemmed glasses, placed all three on a silver tray and returned to the couch, placing the tray on the low table. Then she straightened once more.
“You are lovely tonight, Annie,” Father told her as he took the bottle, exploded the cork and poured champagne into both glasses.
“Thank you, sir,” Annie said formally. “Will there be anything else, sir?”
“Well, yes, perhaps there is,” Father replied. “Everyone is resting and I am a bit lonely. Here, have some champagne.” He picked up a glass and proffered it, but Annie didn’t move.
“No, thank you, sir. It really isn’t fitting. Should I send Miss Gunilla back to keep you company?”
“No, she is tired and has gone- to lie down. Besides, you are older, a woman. You are better company for a man who has just had a long, exhausting trip and who is home at last and needs some-relaxation. But honestly, Annie, you are quite lovely tonight. The way your skin catches the light is enchanting. Here, let us see
…” And he reached up, changing slightly the focus of the funnel-shaped lampshade so that the light fell more fully on Annie’s face. “… there. That is magnificent! Now, if you would turn just a bit, so…” He reached toward her shoulder as though to turn her, but she anticipated his movement and turned herself. “Yes, that’s it. I love to watch the effect of light on you. The way it catches in your hair and falls upon your face. But here, let us unpin your hair a little and let it fall around those fine shoulders of yours.”
Annie’s face had become tense and indecision was clearly written there.
“Please, sir, if there is any service I can do, let me do it for you. But all these things are most irregular, sir. I
