"My Mother Taught Me" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kung Tor)

Chapter Five

I walked home that night with strongly mixed emotions. What is right? What is wrong? I had to know before these struggles tore me to pieces. I did not want to think about anything, but I knew that watching Louise had profoundly affected me. I could not shake it and wanted to be alone to work it out.

So when I started down the hall and Gunilla, who was alone in the living room, beckoned me to join her, I just shook my head and kept walking. I went to my room, selected the best suit I had, took it to the bathroom and washed and dressed for dinner.

When I returned to my room Gunilla was waiting for me. She was sitting in my arm chair, leaning back with her legs crossed so that her soft full skirt was pulled above her knees. I started at seeing her, then just stared at the revelation of beautiful flesh. It was tanned golden, like her face, and it was so exciting that my breath caught and my mouth gaped. I couldn't move. The knee was so well formed, like Mother's, and the fine long legs. I began to shiver all over. I looked above the knees to the soft, forbidden flesh-the flesh I had felt but never seen, and I started forward with the impossible idea of trying to see more.

As though anticipating my desire, Gunilla uncrossed her legs, and opened them slightly towards me-. Inside my head was ringing. It, inflamed me. I was standing looking wildly at her as she calmly appraised me with her clear eyes and gradually separated her thighs more and more till I thought I could just almost see,.. And then suddenly she closed them, pulling her skirt down to cover her legs with the same motion. This was accompanied by the same giggle that had tormented me last night.

“You want to see, don't you, brother?” she mocked. “Dinner is almost ready, but afterwards Mother and Father are going to Stockholm to the opera and won't be back till tomorrow. I'll come and see you at eleven, and we can ride further into The Arabian Nights.” She laughed again, and started out.

But then I remembered my resolution.

“Uh-Nilla, that is-.” She stopped and waited, still grinning.

“Well-I don't think we-uh-well that we-uh-that we should,” I finally gasped out.

“You silly little idiot!” Her laughter rang out strong. “Now don't be afraid, Lars dear. Like I told you, everything will be beautiful. Now not a word more out of you, hear! Tonight at eleven!” And though I tried to object, the words didn't come and she was gone.

Dinner was uneventful. I excused myself early saying I wanted to lie down. After half an hour there was a knock and Mother came in.

“When I was in town today, dear, I got some clothes for you. They're in my room, would you like to see them?”

“Oh-gee-yes, Mother, I sure would,” I cried.

I followed her through the connecting door between our rooms and entered her bedroom for the first time; it was the silken cave I had been so hungrily peeking into last night. She took me to the huge bed and showed me three new suits which lay on the satin spread. I was very excited. My first real clothes. The silk. The whiteness. The sudden intimacy of her bedroom.

I tried on each coat and paraded in front of Mother.

“Why, Lars, they make you so handsome!” She exclaimed. “They do seem to fit well. Here, come and see for yourself!”

She led me to the dressing table.

I looked at myself in the mirror, admiring the fine gray flannel. Then turned and found that Mother was sitting on the bed watching me.

“Do you like them, Lars?” she asked looking closely at me. Her eyes had a strange look in them which I could not define.

“Mother, these clothes are the most wonderful thing anyone has ever given me,” I said straightforwardly. “I just…”

“Come here, dear, and sit with me,” she said softly indicating the place beside her on the edge of the bed. Mother was wearing her hair in a long roll on the back of her neck tonight, and the bed lamp behind it seemed to send needles of fire through it. She wore a brown cardigan buttoned in the back, and a full brown skirt. Giddy from the first new clothes I had ever had, I went over and sat down.

She looked at me a while without saying anything. Then suddenly she smiled, her eyes becoming, at the same time, misty in a way that released things in me. It is so difficult to explain how she just looked at me, and it released things. My stomach tightened and I found it hard to breathe. The mistiness grew in her eyes when she noticed, causing more shyness and confusion in me. And on and on…

“Tell me, Lars,” she asked slowly, “why you stare at me so much? Is it because you never saw a woman before?”

I was tongue-tied and lost, but I tried.

“Yes, of course, Mother. Y-you-you are so strange and- well-so beautiful! I don't think there can be anything so… beautiful-the first thing I ever saw… and nothing ever again…” I had been cold white in my face, and now as I stumbled and dared to be frank, the color rushed in hot.

Mother drew my head toward her and kissed my forehead. I trembled from head to foot. I tried hard, but could not stop shaking. She stroked my head softly, but my trembling only increased. And beside me, I could feel a slight agitation beginning in her, which excited me more.

“I have to dress now, dear, to go to the opera with your father,” she said softly. “If you would feel better staying a while you can sit here while I get ready and then go out.” She seemed to understand me so well-to feel and know that I felt like a small child being left in the dark.

“Yes, thank you, Mother,” I said. “I would like to stay a few minutes. I guess I'm pretty strange now and then. I…”

“Not strange at all, Lars,” she told me. “You just need to know that you are loved, and with me, you soon will.” She got up, went to her chest of drawers, took out a black brassiere, black silk panties with a lace fringe, and a black half slip, marvelous silken things that caused trumpets in me. Their delicacy and embarrassing intimacy! She carried them to a seat behind the screen. Coming out again, she walked over to the large wardrobe, and took out a beautiful deep violet dress which she carried to her dressing table beside the screen, adjusting casually, as she passed, the mirror. She came over to me.

“Lars, darling, would you unbutton my cardigan? It's awfully difficult for me to reach!” She turned around. Despite myself I looked at the fine legs, the grace and smoothness in her body. Then I took in what she had asked. I was beginning to tremble again as I stood up.

She raised her head slightly, and waited for me to undo the buttons. I reached to the top one, but I could not loose it because my hands were shaking so. As though divining my confusion, Mother said:

“Dear, please undo the buttons for me. I have a blouse on under it, you know!”

“Yes, Mother…” I somehow got out, undoing quickly the first button, and then more slowly the next, and the next… The white skin of her neck, and then of her back was exposed. As I opened a third button and more skin was bared, I was filled with a mounting tension and doubt. It was so white, and smooth and inviting and naked. I opened a fourth button, and still only the white skin, beginning to be dusted with almost invisible blond hairs. So much of it now. I wanted to put my face against it, and I had to struggle with myself. My hands shook and I was trembling again as I opened the fifth button, but now the shaking was also from anticipation. The cardigan was open to a point well below her shoulders, and beginning to slide off them at the sides as she moved her arms slightly, but there was still no blouse nor anything… only the flesh. The splendid soft, silken, secret, incredibly naked flesh. The tension in me and between us kept rising. I was afraid to open another button, there was so much of her body nude. And yet I was so avid for more that it paralyzed me. I could only stare.

“Come, dear, or I'll be late!” Mother gently chided me. I opened the next button. More sweet skin. Naked. I closed my eyes as I tried to open the next.

“Mother… I…” and my hands were against the skin and I was fumbling. I was almost helpless from shame and embarrassment because my thing was getting hard again. Then I felt the top of something. I opened my eyes, and there was the blouse! A thin, backless and sleeveless summer blouse!

Mother didn't say anything, although she made a little motion that was like a contented cat. To my further deep shame, I imagined she moved back a little toward me. I kept unbuttoning now with my shaking hands till all the buttons were loosed.

Mother turned toward me, raising her hands to the shoulders so the sweater would stay on.

“Thank you, dear,” she said, smiling at my confusion. “Now you just sit here on the bed, and I will be dressed in a minute.”

She kissed me lightly on the forehead, pressed my arm with her hand, which let the sweater start to slide! She lingered one wild moment, and just before it fell, turned and went behind the screen. I sat staring dumbly after her.

The light on the dressing table threw her silhouette sharply on the silk screen. I could see her sitting doing something with her stockings. Then I realized she was taking them off, for I could see the movement of each leg lifting, then the clear, pure outline of the leg perfectly, and her pulling the stocking slowly off. I was fascinated by this, even silhouetted, process of seeing the unknown. Then the stockings were tossed across the top of the screen. Just the sight of the silk tops which had been a few seconds ago in that private hidden world, maddened me.

“Oh, Lars, dear, would you get me those very sheer stockings that are lying on top of the bureau in the corner?”

I picked up the nylons, so sheer as to be almost invisible, shivering at their touch and the idea of what they were- about to witness, and carried them to her. As I reached the screen, I hesitated in embarrassment, not knowing her state of undress, nor what I should do.

Mother said: “Oh, thank you, dear,” and stepped out. I froze with shock at the motion. But she was still clothed as before, except that her legs and feet were bare. The naked feet were a new world for me. Why should my heart topple over just seeing her naked feet in the soft white rug? She smiled at me, took the stockings from my stunned hands, and went back behind the screen. I sat down heavily on the bed. Then suddenly discovered that the mirror showed clearly what was behind the screen.

I could not resist, although I realized that I should; looking I could see perfectly.

Above the screen I could just see Mother's head, and below it, her ankles, but the mirror of the dressing table, turned as it was, showed me everything! Everything in between! The trumpets started in me again.

Mother, of course, was unaware of all this. In the mirror I saw her seated pulling on the stockings; pulling them and smoothing them carefully over her calves and knees. The motion sent little shivers through me. Then she pulled her skirt up a bit, and began to adjust the nylons on her thighs. I strained forward to see, but because of the angle at which she was sitting, I could see little but the folds of the skirt and the stroking. That and the almost caressing motion of her hands.

Then suddenly, she got up. She reached down under her skirt. It lifted. I was going to see! There was the full splendid curve of her satiny thigh above the stocking as she fastened something to hold it up! I trembled! Needles of excitement ran over my skin, and a wildness began to rise in me. The light fell full on her leg, and the whiteness and the smoothness of it was clear. She kept working with the stocking and a little more of the flesh was visible. I leaned forward trying to see all, shaking as though I had a fever.

Suddenly the dress dropped but then she was doing the other stocking. I looked away. I tried to catch my breath and somehow control myself from this shameful behavior. Mother had asked me to stay so I could feel warm and close to her, and now, taking advantage of this because the mirror happened to allow it, I was spying on her body. But the skin was so soft and smooth, and I wanted so very much to just touch it! Or even just to see… I looked again.

Above the screen, Mother's head was tilted back, and she was slipping the cardigan from her shoulders. I glanced quickly to the mirror, and there, as the sweater came off, I saw her fine, well rounded arms. The blouse was cut deep. Her torso all the way to the beginning of her breasts, was exposed bare! The light, as I said, was good, and her flesh seemed to glow in it with a pale light of its own. She turned her head and neck. Her breasts beneath the blouse rose and fell. I was terribly excited, my eyes glued to the mirror now despite myself.

Now she was beginning to unbutton her blouse, which opened down the front. I strained to see, but the breasts were covered in another garment. A sheath of lace that held her secret beauty carefully. But even this excited me, the special intimacy of this unknown clothing… and there was still more. She unbuttoned more. Flesh began again, below the lace! Her stomach! Her navel! and the curve of her waist. I drank these in. I was helpless with excitement. There she stood now, letting the blouse slip off and down her arms behind her, to the floor, sitting naked to the waist except for her brassiere. I devoured the swell of her breasts! The skin on her stomach unnerved me. As I watched, she passed her hands over her breasts cupping them, smiling down lovingly at them as she cradled them delicately. I could not move!

Then she got up, turning her back towards the mirror, and reached back to the thin strap running across it which held the brassiere. Now. Now, I thought. She's going to open them to the light. To me! But, either she meant only to adjust it, or thought better of it, for now she opened something at the side of her skirt, and unzipped a small zipper.

This done, she reached down to the hem of her skirt. Oh please, I prayed in me. Please this time. Please let me see. The skirt lifted showing more and more of her nylon covered leg. Higher, and I saw again that white flesh of her thigh till it ended in the thinnest, sheerest pair of lace pants. The skirt continued up, but I remained fixed to the panties. All that treasure. The wealth of flesh, the lush swelling thighs so terribly white and gleaming above the stockings suddenly hiding in the film or black lace of the pants. The amplitude of the hips straining the thin material. And then curving in so beautifully to the startlingly slender waist so white and clean above the pants again. The pants plump with a luxury of woman. I remembered Gunilla last night. I remembered the mysteries my hands had played with in the dark: the softness of flesh, the hair, the wetness, the unbelievably exotic discovery of how the body had opened to my hands and mouth. And it was there. All that which was forbidden. All the final forbidden beauty of my Mother blooming in that lace, just that fragile distance from my eyes. The shame now was drowned in the shouting happiness in me. Marvelous animals prowled my blood roaring. I wanted to see her hair. I admitted it in myself. I wanted to look on my mother's most finally hidden secret hair. All! All! But I couldn't. I couldn't see through that black. I thought I could see a swell of flesh or hair where I knew it to be from Gunilla, but I couldn't really see! She turned. I saw the fullness of her buttocks, and could even make out the crack between the beautiful cheeks. I was panting open-mouthed. My heart hammered.

I sat shaking with excitement. I tried to look away, partially succeeded, but then had to look back. And now she actually was unhooking her brassiere! She was opening it! Now, at last. She was turning so I could see all in the mirror! I tried to look away. I couldn't. And the knowledge that I couldn't was an ecstasy. A triumph. Now! Now! Let me see them, Mother. Let me see your breasts, Mother. The whiteness. The nipples. The hidden nipples. All, Mother! My breath must have been audible as I gasped, trying to see- but all I caught was a suggestion of the swell of her breast as she turned her back again completely to the mirror, and picked up another brassiere from the seat. As she slipped her arms through the straps, she did turn a little towards the mirror, and I peered hard, straining every muscle. For a second she seemed to meet my eye. I couldn't tell. Her eyes fell. But I had to see.

She hesitated a minute with her arms crossed over her breasts. There was a strange pause for a second. There was a blur of motion. A sense of silk and curves and whiteness. But almost immediately the breasts were snuggled in black, and I hadn't seen!! But the effect of this almost seeing was so great on me that I just sat there, my heart pounding so as to nearly break me open.

I remember vaguely that another white thing, a slip, I guess, went on over her head, and then the dress which she wiggled into with a motion that any other time would have excited me, but I was so close to saturation that I almost did not notice until she seemed to catch on something. The dress was very tight, and she was trying to pull it on over her head.

She struggled a moment, then called, almost with embarrassment!

“Lars! This thing is caught on me-on my strap, I distinct not of appeal, but also of frustration. “Every think! Oh- would you help me!” This last with a time I'm in a hurry, something has to happen!” she was continuing…

I was terribly embarrassed. My penis, shamefully, had grown hard again, and push as I would, I could not completely conceal it. And I was shaking so. As best I could, I pushed it down, and began to go to the screen, but I could hardly walk, and Mother called again!

“Please come, dear, I'm very late and I'm caught in this tiling!”

I hurried as best I could, and walked around the screen, trying somehow not to look at her exposed body, but more out of fear of what would happen if I did than from any sense of decency.

The dress was over her head and came down as far as her ribs. Her arms were inside, and she had been struggling to get them through the arm holes. One arm had made it, but the other had passed the hole, and in her effort to adjust this, she had hooked the dress on to one of her understraps.

“Ah, Lars, here, dear, behind me-see if you can see where it is caught!”

I felt across her back under the dress, in the warmth, over the sweet flesh! I found where the dress had caught on a shoulder strap. Even so, my eyes could not resist a glance at the curving buttocks there, right where I might touch them. I struggled with the hook a moment, trying not to tear the fine violet fabric, but as I did so, Mother turned her head slightly, dusting her slightly perfumed hair across my face. I almost died!

And then, just as I got it undone, she leaned back towards me. I steadied her somehow, then stepped back, but even the touch of the dress on my hands had them shaking.

But she was still in trouble, for her arm could not find the hole. Her whole body seemed to twist, and even at this point, I found it almost uncontrollably exciting.

“Lars-please, dar-my arm-I can't get it into the hole! Lift the dress on me a little, and then help me down with it when I tell you!”

I reached up and, taking the dress carefully on each side about where her head was, I began to lift. Mother had to keep twisting even so to help me. The dress was incredibly tight!

But as she did this, she twice rubbed her buttocks against my leg. It was all I could do not to scream.

“There, darling,” she was saying to me. “That's fine now, but would you just help me pull it down so that I don't get stuck again?”

“Yes, Mother,” I muttered. “But-uh-how do I…?”

“Just pinch it at the sides and pull… OOOH!-but without pinching me, sweetheart!” She had given a little jump, and leaned on me for a second, and I just couldn't stand it!

I helped steady her with my palms, and then paused… Her voice came, softer now, and with a tone that made me think she might be near laughing, but I couldn't tell.

“Don't be afraid, dear! Just be careful you get just dress between your hands-uh-fingers, and not me!”

“I'm-I'm sorry, Mother… I didn't mean to,” I stammered, and carefully as I could with my infernal shaking, I took the dress in my fingers and thumbs and tried to pull down on it.

Mother squirmed and twisted, trying to help, and little by little we made progress. Despite my good sense, I looked several times at the flesh of her thighs and buttocks, trembling more and more and more.

Now both her arms were in the holes, and the dress was coming down below her waist when suddenly, it stuck again.

“It's caught a bit on the right side, dear,” Mother was explaining. “Just pull a little more there!”

I did, and she twisted hard trying to get into it, and in the process, she fell against me. My stiff penis was tight against her leg, and my hands closed on her stomach trying to steady her! Only by fiercely biting my lip so that the blood came, did I manage to keep from coming, all over her. Then I realized that she too was trembling-quivering against me-and did I only imagine it-pressing back hard against my penis and moving on it. The inside of my head was all liquid-and she liquid against me, and somewhere a bong began to toll with louder and louder urgency.

She stayed there a moment shaking till my own shaking threatened to drop her, then her own arms free now, she bent away and helped me quickly move the dress the rest of the way over her, then turned quickly and looked at me, a wildness in her eyes.

“Thank you, dear,” she said. “This thing is so tight and is always a horror to get on. Uh-I'm sorry it was so-so hard on you. But, Lars… you must get used to having a mother, you know!” And she looked at me with those beautiful, wide, blue eyes, and I didn't know what to say or do… so I just nodded and blushed at her.

Mother moved to the dressing table, and began her makeup. I just stood there and stared at her. Finally she seemed satisfied, and turned to me again:

“Well, Lars, I hope you really liked the things I showed you tonight.” My eyes must have popped, for she lowered hers slightly, flushed a little, and said:

“Uh… I meant your clothes, you know. Do you really think you will enjoy them?”

I guess she saw then that I was beyond speech. I stammered assurances of my appreciation of the clothes, and she accepted them. Finally she said:

“You go to bed now, darling, and please rest well for me. These clothes will do you till we can go to the tailor's together. And like I told you before, you will get used to having a mother, in time. It is only natural that you-ah- find it embarrassing now. Remember, Lars!” And saying this she came to me, put her arms around my neck, and kissed me full on the mouth! Deep incredible softness!

I was hopelessly in love. I almost fainted. Her soft mouth went away-clinging just a little as it left. I shook, blushed, and stammered: “Thank you, Mother… good night!” And fled.