“Daddy,” she blurted, all the time giggling, “you’ll never guess where I missed you most and it will be expensive if you want me to tell you!”
“Oh, it will, will it now?” His voice seemed a bit reproachful, but it was blurred over by her laughter and little cries.
“But if you can find it, then-” Her voice was lost in a peal of excited laughter.
I could stand it no longer! The strange answers to these fatherly questions, the curious overtones in Father’s voice, and the unfamiliar note in the little smothered laughs and cries, caused the hair to rise on the back of my head. I had to peek.
They couldn’t see me. They were sitting on the couch, Father on the cushions and Gunilla on the arm. There was a lamp with a modern conical shade where they were which made them easily visible.
Father reached up and pulled her into his lap. Filled with the feelings natural to a father and daughter who have been separated for a month, they were unaware of me in my large chair behind them.
“Did you miss your daddy, Nilla baby?” he asked gently and began to run his fingers slowly through her hair. “Did my little girl miss her daddy?” His voice was very gentle and fatherly and his hand lightly stroked her neck, running over her hair and then pressing it against her neck.
“Yes, Daddy,” Gunilla was saying, “every day that you were away I missed you and thought about you.” Father ran his hand up under the nape of her neck and under her hair and began gently caressing her. “Did you really miss your daddy? Really? Then tell me how much did you miss him?”
There was only a low laugh from Gunilla.
From where I sat huddled deep in the chair, Gunilla’s head was between me and the light, creating the effect of a flaming corona which seemed to throw off sparks of white fire with the movement of Father’s hand. But now, as though in answer to his question, and to my puzzlement, Gunilla giggled, then deftly reached up, unbuttoned another button of her blouse and, taking Father’s other hand which had been resting lightly on her lap, put it inside. Lost in my fascination with the hair I had almost missed this, for me, incredible act. For it all appeared so easy and natural and right, yet I watched with both horror and a strange and growing fascination.
“…did she miss her daddy?” His voice was soft and he brushed his lips lovingly against her long hair as he spoke. His hand was well inside her blouse and he was fondling and stroking her, moving his hand and his finger tips against her flesh. But was he, could he actually be caressing her breasts? And why did this thought excite me so? I craned my neck to see better, but my chair creaked slightly and I feared to stretch further and possibly disclose my presence. His hand was still slowly stroking as he said:
“Daddy missed his little girl, too. What do you think he brought her from England?”
“Presents, Daddy?” Gunilla’s voice was languorous. “Very nice presents, love, for little girls who miss their daddies! Very nice…”
“What kind of presents, Daddy?” Gunilla’s voice took on a dreamy tone as she unbuttoned another button and 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: