slight sigh against the pillow.
But this stopped me in confusion because it reminded me somehow of what I was doing and instinctively, of where I was: that I was approaching the core of the miracle.
“What’s wrong, dear,” she asked me. “Don’t be afraid now, you’re almost there, little brother, so don’t stop now!” But somehow her voice only inhibited me more as it brought me back toward reality.
“Help me, Nilla-I-well…” and I ran out of words as the shyness returned and for a moment some strange memory tried to tug at my mind and take it away. But Gunilla had her hands on my wrists now, drawing me higher.
“Come, Lars, I’ll help you! Is your leg soft like this? or like this? And does it have this?” And she gradually drew my hands up till they felt the brush of hair again, fine and thin on the ends of her loins.. “And now, Lars, haven’t you ever wondered about this?” And to my amazement and embarrassment she began to draw me slowly across her pubic hair towards where her organ must be.
“Nilla-I” and my voice raised in consternation, for surely this must be very private-but at the same time that compulsion was on me to discover this above all. I stopped her gradual movement and froze.
“Lars, I told you, everything-everything is yours to learn -come, come on-feel me-I know you’ll like it! It’s all right, I promise you!” And slowly but firmly she moved me in again, around, all over it!
And suddenly the strangeness overcame all else. My fingers reached for her and tried to feel carefully over the fine mass of hair. But where was it? There was nothing there! I guess it had never occurred to me that women didn’t have a penis of some sort like mine, and the discovery was a shock. Gunilla had my hand again and was pushing it down between her legs, moving it against first one, then the other, and sliding it in the strange fluid I found there. She rubbed my hand against her hair, and when I touched a part that seemed bare of hair and very slippery, she shivered and stiffened suddenly.
“But…” I began. Her breathing was very rapid now.
“No, no-you see I don’t have one-aren’t you surprised?” She spoke rapidly now in a tense voice. “But here, Lars, see what I do have! Feel here, now, and here!” She put my fingers into a hole between her legs which was all liquid and warm. It was the strangest thing I’d ever known. And somehow the most fantastically exciting. The hole seemed to close on my fingers. To kiss and suck at them. A honey flowed from her into my hand. Each time I moved my fingers in the hole, it trembled and Gunilla writhed-making little mewing sounds. Then she began moaning: “The other too, Lars. Please, the other too.” And drawing my hand up, rubbed, or slid it across a fold of skin in a crack between the hairs where they thinned out. At this last she twisted and moaned:
“Lars, darling, please stroke me there-yes, like that, dearest, back and forth on it-now quicker, quicker, quicker, darling! And here, put your two fingers of this hand in here for me?” She took my left hand which was free, fumbling for it wildly at first in the dark, and put my two middle fingers into the slippery warm hole I had just felt… “Pull it in and out, precious, in and out-that’s it-and keep rubbing with the other hand-yes-stroke it faster, faster, faster!” Her voice rose and the urgency mounted with each word.
And I was completely lost! Wild with excitement from where I know not, I complied with her every wish as best as my trembling and shaking hands were able. A weird giddiness came in my head which fell forward on her stomach, and instinctively, from some force I do not understand, I began licking it with my tongue. But this impeded my left arm, and Gunilla pushed me up and back.
“Lick me, lick me, Lars, but bend to do it. Don’t ever stop with your hands…” Her voice was low and husky now… “But here, here, keep this hand in,” holding my left hand and moving her hand with it in and out, “and lick me here, here on my clitoris! Quick, Lars. Suck me-you’ll like it! Please. I’ll be your slave, only please suck me. Eat me, Lars, little brother.” And she pushed my head down into the hair to where I was stroking her. I was caught with a moment of revulsion at this, but as her hand pressed on my neck, her fingers gently pressing and squeezing, drawing me down, a sudden liquid feeling of compliance crept over me blotting out everything else. My head seemed to be bursting with the need to please, to succumb, to comply, and over it all this dreamy vagueness.
My mouth was in her hair now, and realizing vaguely that I was to lick the fold I had been stroking, I began to do so. A strong but wonderful smell was everywhere, and it took me back somewhere in my childhood, but I only knew it was beautiful, and like love, and that it was beautiful now-that it was love, and I wanted to tell her, but I wanted more to only keep licking her.
“O, yes, little brother. Dear little sucking brother. Eat me! Eat me! Eat me-eat me!”
In all this I had forgotten to use my fingers in her and now she drew them out and replaced them with her own, her other hand, stroking my hair, running the fingers through it, and pressing me against her. Her legs raised and grasped my head, and she was moaning and twisting her head in pleasure. And as the tension grew in me again, I licked harder and harder, seeming by instinct to know how to please her. But she was whispering hoarsely to me:
“Suck me, Lars, harder now-faster, faster, darling, darling, Lars, lick me, my juice, Lars-come on, come on- yes lover,-I’m coming now, I’m coming-oh, lick me, SUCK ME SUCK SUCK SUCK! AIIII! Ahhh!” Something had happened. Something gigantic. I knew that, even if I didn’t know what it was. Gunilla had covered her mouth with the pillow to muffle her last great moans. Then she went all limp. She gently put her hands on my head and drew it to her stomach, tenderly stroking me and murmuring incoherently.
Images swam in my head: images of joy and wholeness and power. Memory picked at my brain but I was possessed.
After a while, her hands slid down from my head, unbuttoned my pyjamas, and slid down my chest. Then along the sides of my body. I shook spasmodically. Her fingers played across my stomach causing the muscles to spasm. I know I was murmuring things helplessly, saying her name, and other things I don’t know in a strange voice, begging for something I did not realize nor understand.
Then, sliding inside the pants of my pyjamas her hands ran over my belly, and then on the sides of my legs.
As I jerked and shook, twisting under her touch, completely helpless in her hands, she began giggling. And kept playfully moving towards my penis, but never touching it. I don’t know why this maddened me. But I tried to twist my torso towards her hand, tried to get her to touch my penis. Somewhere in my head was the thought that this was terrible, but it was blotted out by a need which was as uncontrollable as it was new to me.
Once I almost got her to touch me, but she swept away in time, only slightly brushing my erect organ. Gunilla laughed low and teased me:
“Don’t know what it is you want, do you, brother? Where is it you want me to play with you? Is it here, or here?” And she touched my stomach, and my loins, both sending shivers of frustration through me… “Or do you want it here, lover boy.” And she began sensuously stroking across my pubic hair till I nearly screamed… “Or is it here, darling,” and she slid her hand beneath my back and caressed lightly with her fingers on my backsides.
“Or do you want something different, little brother. Are you ashamed to say it.” Her fingers were in my pubic hair again, stroking and stroking. Getting closer. “Or maybe you don’t even know the name of it. But you want me to touch it, don’t you, Lars? Don’t you?” I couldn’t speak. I was being lifted and lifted on a tremendous wave. “You have to ask for it, though, Lars. You have to ask for it so I’ll know you really don’t dislike it. Say: Please, little sister Gunilla.” Her fingers were so close.
“Please,” I heard myself gasping. “O please, little sister Gunilla.” Her fingers reached me. Her hot hands clasped me. The great wave broke and I fell in a welter of joy. Spurt after spurt after spurt fountained from me all over her and the bed and me. My mind was buried in the masses of the wave. Just before it closed over me, I heard her marvelous laugh, and she kissed me. And ran away. Darkness and joy flooded me. I fainted.
Chapter Four
After she had gone I just lay there in the darkness, my head spinning. From time to time I shuddered convulsively. At first I did not even try to gather my wits. Everything was unreal and whirling: the darkness, the experience of unknown and forbidden emotions, and the fantastic events preceding. Everywhere was that odd, musky smell of her.
When the shock of her sudden exit had passed a little, I sat up, retrieved the sheet, which had fallen to the floor, and tried to sleep. I was dazed-too much so for thought. The peace and the happiness I felt was in the musk
