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

Chapter Seven

We must have lain there for some time lost in a daze of ecstasy. I lay holding her, feeling the softness and warmth of her body against me. My eyes were closed. My mind was nearly asleep. Somewhere inside I was a cat that her body and the light grazing of her hair when she breathed were gently stroking. As I began to come to, the shyness and wonder started to return. At the same time, there was a new consciousness of power in me. What was it? I couldn't tell, but I was sure that some time long ago I had felt it before. Power. It was almost-almost, well-as though something in me could…

But I didn't know. I just didn't know what it was. Perhaps it was the shamefulness in me that I had known was there. In my half-dazed state I kept trying to put these thoughts together. But I couldn't! Still there persisted this feeling. What if I could come to control…

Gunilla stirred. Her body came alive and even more sensuous against me, softly moving… She lifted her head from my shoulder and brushed her lips across my cheek searching for my lips. I turned to her, feeling the hair on me. The white-golden hair. Immediately her lips closed over my mouth. Her right hand went behind my head and she pressed against me enveloping me in dizziness.

I returned the kiss and instinctively pulled her against me. As her tongue licked across my lips I trembled spasmodically. I pushed her tongue aside with mine and probed into her mouth. The sensation was incredible. Her mouth was all liquid and slippery like her hole had been, and the taste was the same-probably from my mouth being full of her fluid. The smell of her was everywhere. The ripples on her palate were covered by a liquid and I ran my tongue over it, delving deeper and deeper to her throat. Her body, which was tight against my leg and my chest, quivered and I felt the desire for her rising.

But I didn't know what to do exactly. All I could do was to follow my instructress. She moved more and more against my leg, pressing and squirming. I felt the softness of her thighs, the ridge of her loins, the fullness of her belly. Then her tongue crept against mine and twined around it, I could not stop shaking.

Gunilla drew back and looked at me. As I met her eyes I felt the power move in me like a great cat stretching and in her eyes I saw-just for a moment-a look of almost slavish devotion flicker.

“Lars,” she began. Then stopped with her mouth open. Then began again: “Gee, Lars…” She shook her head slowly. “Wheew! Your first fuck, and yet you're… well you are pretty… well powerful! Wow!” Her eyes were on me wondering and shining, and in me the cat was stretching more and more with the look. But now I had to talk and I was suddenly the shy student as before, my fleeting awareness gone…

“Well… I-uh… I don't know just what you mean by 'fuck,' Nilla. L…”

She seemed to shake herself at the timid sound of my voice -the hesitation-the unsureness.

“Well, of course you don't, little brother.” The look was gone now. It was replaced by one of assurance and intimacy. “I guess I'll just have to teach you everything right now so that you'll know.” She sat up and drew her legs under her again, and as she spoke her lips curved in a smile. She was naked to the waist and below the skirt was bunched about her hips so that the electric light made her skin golden and inviting. I stared helplessly at her immense breasts pointing out at me: pavilions of texture and graduations of light. Proud and high and lavish.

“Listen, sweetheart, 'fucking' is what we just did when you had your 'cock' inside my 'cunt.'“ She touched each in turn as she pronounced the word. As she said this, she laid back, pulled up her skirt higher, raised and spread her knees so that the mystery flowered before me. She lovingly stroked the rich bush of golden hair, continuing to talk in a dreamy, indolent voice. “This is cunt hair, Lars. This is what your instincts are driving you to see.” I crawled to where I could look directly at it. Everything was spread there just in front of my eyes. Her fingertips leisurely and caressingly ruffled the fine, sleek hairs. Two fingers on each half of the prominent mound delicately stroking up against the lie of thatch, then smoothing it down again. Her voice was even more husky and drowsy. “Look at it, Lars. That's it, watch my hands on it. It's the greatest sight in the world. Do you like looking at it? Do you like watching my hands playing with it? Here you are just a little boy staring right into a gorgeous pussy. That's the other word for it, Lars. Oh, there are lots of words for it. Some of them try to deny what's really there! Like privates or grotto. Others try to disparage it, such as crack or fig or monkey or cockpit or box. Some are kind of fun, like nookie and nest and quim and hole. Best of all though are cunt and pussy.” I looked at her face. It was lovely. Her eyes opened and saw me looking at her. “No, Lars, keep looking at my cunt. Yes, like that. The whole outer bulb is called the mount of Venus, and these are the outer lips. Priests and tourists call them the labia majora.” She ran each index finger lingeringly along the edges where the flesh met along a dark slit. “This opening is scientifically called the vulva. It's really my crack. Now watch as I open myself.” She stretched her thighs further and further apart. As she did so, the crack began to open. Lovely pink flesh with no hair on it began to appear. Gunilla took a tuft of hair carefully between each thumb and forefinger and slowly pulled her cunt wider. “Look, Lars, look into the open cunt of your little sister Gunilla. You see the smaller lips that pout out through my crack when I get excited? These, are the labia minor,, or truly inner lips.” It was more than I could take. Even stronger than my curiosity was the appetite in me, and the need to worship. My face was only niches from the wet, swollen, delicate pinkness. I leaned forward slightly and gently lapped at it. The daintiness of the flesh was unbelievable. Succulent and sweet, with a subtle faint taste that I assumed must be the nectar I'd always been mystified by in books. Gunilla moaned a tiny moan and her loins shuddered. But after I'd made eight or ten of these little licks, she tenderly ran her fingers into my hair and raised my head slightly. “Oh, yes, little brother. That's so perfect. But we must wait just a few minutes while I finish my lecture. Now you see down here?” Her fingers stretched the flesh at the lower part of the crack, revealing a dark rose opening. “This is my hole, darling. This is where you put your cock when you fuck me. And this is where you put your tongue when you eat me.” I must have lifted my head slightly to ask about that, but she turned my eyes back and then stretched herself open again.

“Eating me, little innocent angel, is the same as sucking me. It's also sucking me off, or cunt-sucking, or cunt-licking, or cunt-lapping. It's also going down on it. There are other words like muffing it or skin-diving, but they lack respect and reveal an absence of vocation. Now, when you are eating me, you run your mouth around this hole, and drive your tongue in as far as possible, darting it in and out. Or, and it's very important, you use your tongue on another part of my cunt. Here, where the inner lips join.” Her fingers moved up and gently spread the flesh. “You see this little pellet-like thing hiding under this arch of skin? This is your sister's clitoris. We don't know its real name. Sometimes it's called the button or helmet. It's a tiny cock hidden back under there. When I get excited, it stands erect and you can just reach a bit of it with your tongue. This is the most sensitive part of a woman. When you are sucking me, you must concentrate mostly here; of course, you suck and lick all of my cunt: inside the big lips, between the inner lips, my hole, everything. You stroke me with your tongue soft and wide and flat, or with it pointed and specific. Or you suck and lick everywhere inside me. But mostly you lick at me here. Or you nibble at my clitoris while you work your nose into my hole. Or you take all this flesh here and stick it into your mouth either gently or even chewing it gently. But remember, Lars, you must almost always be gentle. Unless I have” become completely wild, it is best to lick me very, very gently… Well, there's a lot more to that which I'll teach you later. Right now I want to just give you a basic vocabulary. O.K. Now, what's this?” She drew my hand over the hair.

“Uh-h-h…” I couldn't say it.

“Come on, Lars, you must say it. Whisper it. What are you touching?” I could hardly get the words out. “Your cunt,” I whispered.

“That's right, angel. And what else?”

“It's your cunt and your pussy. It is my sister's cunt hair.”

A sudden incredible happiness flooded through me as I said the words. Somewhere deep in me great valves opened that had been sealed for a long time.

“Well,” said Gunilla. “How you've changed, shy little brother. You're wonderful. Now what's this?” She led my fingers.

“That's my sister's cunthole,” I whispered. I felt her twitch. I looked at her and noticed she had her eyes closed and her face was beginning to work. Her body was beginning to tense, move even. I slid my finger into her. Squeezed her breasts gently. “What's that?” she said in a smothered voice.

“That's the inside of my sister's cunthole.” I was right! The words were controlling her. As I said them, I could see spasms run over her stomach. I put in a second finger and ran them over the tiny ridges on the roof of her hole. Then I felt into the crannies to the right and left. She was sopping wet now, it was running into my palm and down her thighs. “Yes, Lars, that's my little hole. You're feeling me up. You're finger-fucking your little sister.” She was beginning to gasp through her open mouth. She was rhythmically squeezing her breasts.

“And what's this fluid that's coming out of you, little sister?” As I asked the question, I could feel an immense power in me. Somehow I knew to keep mentioning that she was my sister, and this was like a depth-bomb exploding in her each time.

“That's my cunt juice, little brother.” Her hips were lifting and falling to the rhythm of my caresses. I slowly drew out my fingers, lingering at the threshold. When she felt them finally leave, her hips lurched into the air. “Oh, don't stop. Please, please don't stop.” There was no longer any question of who was in control. She was begging me. After a moment of delay, watching her twisting body searching blindly for my fingers, I lightly touched her clitoris.

“Ahh-h-h-h-h-h” she groaned. I stroked her very gently. She was moving softly with the motion.

“Does my sister like having her little brother play with her pussy?”

“Oh, yes, Lars. Yes. Yes.”

“Which does she like more, being stroked here or (I slowly stroked my two fingers into her) in her hole?”

“Both, both, everything!”

“But which do you like most.”

“Oh, Lars, please just love me.”

“But which do you prefer? If you can't say, I may stop.”

“No,” she wailed. “Don't stop. Don't stop.”

“Then which?”

“My clitoris is the best when you play with me, but my hole is best when you're fucking me. They're so different…”

“But if you can't choose, then I must stop.” I felt nine feet tall the power was so manifest in me.

“NO!” she begged. Saliva was running from the side of her mouth. “Oh, sweet Jesus. Please, Lars. I'm dying. Please.” I didn't move. “My clitoris,” she moaned. “Best of all is when you love my clitoris. Now please please love me!”

“Do you want me to suck your clitoris? Would you let your own brother suck your cunt, Gunilla?” Her body was lifting and falling helplessly. She was whimpering:

“Oh, yes, dear little brother, lick your naughty sister's little girl cunt. Yes. Yes. Yes.” I lowered my head. As my head approached the wet, matted hair, she sensed it and she lifted herself completely off the bed, supporting herself on just her heels and shoulders. I stopped. Just short.

“Oh-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h,” came from deep inside her. She twisted her fingers in my hair and tried to force my face into her cunt. I refused to budge-but held myself just out of reach. “If you want it, Gunilla, you must get it by submitting, by begging. Not by force.”

“Oh, yes, yes,” she said, letting her arms fall limply. “I beg you, Lars, please suck me. Please be nice to your hot little sister.”

“Does she need it?”

“She needs it so much.”

“Does she have to have it?”

“She has to have it.” I leaned forward and licked along her flesh where it pouted up like a fig between the hairy lips. At the first touch, a series of giant shudders shook her. She screamed one long wordless scream, shook again and again, and finally collapsed.

I looked down at her. She was limply sprawled. As though like a big rag doll. I felt power in me like a deep, deep gong. But at the same time, I felt such an immensity of tenderness that it was beyond anything I'd ever known. I gathered her in my arms, pulled the sheet over her, wiping the sweat off her head and throat with a corner of it.

She lay without a motion for a good while. Then, as I was putting her hair in order, I discovered her eyes were open and she was looking at me. She was staring.

“What's wrong, Gunilla?” I said. She just shook her head. “Are you unhappy?” She shook her head and began to smile a very sweet smile.

“I'm completely happy,” she said. “And grateful. And a little frightened.”

“Frightened of what?” I asked.

“Let's not talk about it now,” she said touching my face. “I'll explain later. It's not a bad kind of fright. It's maybe the most happily exciting thing I've ever known I suspect-if you can call that being frightened.”

“Well, then, maybe you could finish my lesson. You wandered from the point.” She smiled, and her eyes twinkled.

“So sorry,” she said. “Well, then?” She sat up with a wonderful indolent motion. Her magnificent breasts bobbed. The motion instantly hypnotized me. She noticed, and leaned forward. She affectionately cradled each breast in her two hands and brought them alternately to my lips. I kissed each with my mouth open. “These are my tits, darling. The people of the world call them mammary glands or mammae. The same dreary people with their withered souls call them bosoms. The ugly people call them boobs or boobies, or knockers, or cantaloupes, or headlights, or handles, or milk factories, or breastworks, or bumpers. You can call them breasts, and it's all right, but they are really tits or titties.” She pushed the breasts together so I could suck at the hard tips of both at the same time. “And those are my nipples, darling. What the people used to call teats.”

The nipples were growing as I kissed them, growing longer and fatter and stiffer. She caught sight of my penis lying half limp on my thigh. She laid her cheek on my leg beside it, and spoke to it with a curious mixture of deference, affection and respect.

“And you are my little brother's cock. You are also properly called my little brother's prick. You may, under some limited conditions, be called a penis or dick. You must never be referred to as a wang, yard, club, hammer, rod, or lollypop. Nor by any other of the words that try to diminish your tremendous beauty.” She reached forward with tenderness and freed the sacks that were imprisoned below. Still with her cheek on my thigh, she spoke to them. “And you poor beauties without a name. You we must refer to as balls, because otherwise we must say nuts or testicles or testies- which are unacceptable.” Her fingers cradled my cock-as she called it. She stroked the red top of it with her thumb. “This is the head. It is here and just under the ridge of it here that you get so much pleasure. This is the most sensitive part that gives you the great pleasure when it gets rubbed as you move in and out of my hole. When we are fucking. Also known as screwing. And as getting laid. Or, just barely permissible, getting a piece of ass, or a piece of tail. What in jazz circles is known as work. What in gentle moments can legitimately be called making love. But never as sexual intercourse, or having sex, or coitus, or cohabition, or fornication, or union, or congress. It was once making the two-backed beast, but no more. It may be called tail or ass, but not banging, tupping, humping, doing it, or having your ashes hauled. Nor does one service a woman, plow her, drill her, nail her, nor tup her. It is not a hop or jump or trick. It is not a roll in the hay. Nor is it a tumble. Nor to mate. One may, perhaps, refer to a girl putting out, but never to being in the saddle.”

As she stroked on and on during this speech, I began to grow. The limpness gave way to a rigidity. The last part of Gunilla's speech was said almost abstractedly. The tip of the cock had grown almost to her lips. She crooned to it:

“And would you give me your liquor if I sucked you? If I was a cocksucker, would you fountain in my mouth? If I go down on you, would you come in my throat? The people who don't understand speak of blowing you, but I want rather to worship you. To kiss and lick and suck you. Ah, I see the clear juice is oozing from your little mouth.” She licked at the clear liquid that began to seep from my cock. She licked with the tip of her tongue delicately as a cat. “Ah, beauty. It is the greatest flavor in the world-except for that other, that thick white miracle that they feebly call sperm or seed or gyzm or come. Come, my darling. Let me worship you. Let me coax you to spurt into my mouth so the taste is thick in me, until the thick glory clogs my throat and I must swallow the living white glory of you. Let me suck on you till you come deep in my mouth.” Her lips closed on the tip, with a hot, wet, velvety suction. She released the tip. She held it adoringly in her hands and licked the length of it. She opened her mouth to it again. More and more she took into her mouth. And more. Her mouth glided wet and suckingly back and forth along it. Steadily. Three shallow motions, and then a deep sucking one.

Three shallow ones. A deep one. Three shallow. A deep, deep one. Always deeper. She had somehow taken almost all of me. The sucking seemed to be reaching into the farthest outposts of my body. Everything was being sucked down and down toward her mouth. The pleasure was almost unbearable. Incredible! The sucking. That sucking. That mouth of her sucking! I gathered the hair back from her face so I could watch. I saw her mouth stretched around my flesh. I saw my cock emerging from her lips, and sliding amazingly into that place that was not supposed to accept such alienism. I saw the wetness on me. I saw her face accepting me into her mouth. And sucking and sucking. I was being sucked out of me. My soul was being sucked out. She had all of my cock somehow in her mouth.

And sucked! And sucked! I was coming. I was dying. Into her mouth? Was she really going to let me come in her mouth? I tried to draw away in the sudden fear of disgusting her. She dug her fingers fiercely into my legs, refusing to let me pull back. A wave rose in me. Rose and rose. A tremendous bright wave that had come in a long way. That was gigantic now. Was towering up and up over me. That sucking. That face. Those stretched lips. That sucking. That sucking. Sucking. And then her eyes opened and looked full into mine. She was my slave! The wave broke. Smashed down on me. Tumbling masses of ecstasy. I could see directly into her soul! The wave collapsed full on me. Everything was a joy and darkness. And I died. And the sucking continued.

I don't know how long I slept. I must have awakened. I was lying with Gunilla's breasts on my face. Such softness. She was telling me some stories about Mother. Wild things. But I couldn't really focus. She was saying something about how we were going to watch her and Father tonight from Gunilla's room. And we were going to do whatever they did. I couldn't really follow it.

Then there was the sound of an automobile outside. Gunilla started, saying: “They're back. Mother is sure to look in here to see if I've been poaching. I've got to go, little darling.” She scrambled from the bed, gathering her clothes. She came to the bed, looked deep into my eyes and said: “I don't understand it, Lars, but I belong to you completely. I worship you.” And she bent and sucked my limp wet cock into her mouth and then started away. I grabbed her arm, hard. She looked into my eyes and stopped. “But they'll catch us!”

“Show me your pussy,” I said.

“Yes, Lars,” she replied. She quietly laid down, raised her knees, and softly opened her cunt with her fingers. I slipped my fingers in and out until I was sure. I knew now she would do anything I said, even let Mother find her here like this. I owned my little sister completely. I slipped my fingers out. After a second, she opened her eyes. She obviously understood. She said very meekly, “Shall I go now, Lars?”

“Yes,” I said. She walked to the door in a trance. “Gunilla,” I said. She stopped and turned. I looked at her beautiful heavy breasts, her cunt dark from the wet. “I love you, Gunilla.” She began to cry with happiness. She opened the door and left, her clothes in her hands.