My heart ached and went out towards my daughter Sharon when she was involved in a serious car accident. She was both a gymnast as well as a cheerleader for her high school and had broken both legs in the accident. Spending several days in the hospital, she was then moved home and informed that she'd be spending the next month or so there while she recovered. It was devastating news for a young woman who would miss much of the last remaining months of school convalescing at home, rather than spending time with her friends. And though they did come for visits, the girls who were Sharon's age had lives and activities of their own. Sadly, the visits to see her came less frequently and far less long in their stay even when they did.
The only bright side to any of this, if there was a bright side to be looked at, was that we were close enough to not get on one another's nerves. Some had even said we looked enough alike to pass as sisters rather than as mother and daughter. Something we had both come to laugh about, but finding flattery in as well. Me looking younger than my nearly twenty-year difference in age, and Sharon looking far more mature in hers. And something else we had established very early on, was an openness to discuss anything and everything. Something my husband Robert and I had also agreed on, to be open with our kids while growing up. And though we had only had Sharon as it turned out, being totally and completely honest with her from the onset had proven its worth in gold.
As I said, having two broken legs was hardship enough for her, forcing Sharon to spend a great deal of time in bed, though I spent as much time with her there as I could. When she had improved a great deal, Robert would then carry our daughter downstairs, placing her on the sofa before leaving for work. In doing so, it allowed me to do the few odds and ends that needed doing, and still be within easy earshot of our daughter if she needed anything. I also enjoyed having the excuse to take a break from the mundane, share the couch with her for a while and just visit, or watch some movie on the TV together.
Though Sharon always wore a modest lightweight robe as her dad carried her down stairs to the sofa, the moment he had left for work, she removed it. She hated the confined feeling of movement, especially with both legs still being in casts from her ankles to just below her knees. Since it was only me spending any time around her, Sharon usually wore something equally comfortable to lounge around in. Most of the time a simple tee shirt and panties, though since she'd been home, she'd quit wearing her bras as well. Occasionally however, she would wear one of her more revealing nightgowns, one or two I had actually given her of my own. She seemed to enjoy wearing them the most, and did so on more than one occasion.
Robert had just left for work. Sharon like always had taken off her robe making herself more comfortable when I came in with a breakfast tray for her and a cup of coffee for myself. Sitting crossways to her in my favorite chair, I couldn't help but notice the way she looked as she sat there enjoying her breakfast. I mean I obviously knew she had matured, and we'd certainly had several interesting "sex" conversations over the years about boys in general, but I'm not sure I had come to fully appreciate just how beautiful my own daughter was. And even more importantly, just how truly mature she really was too. At the moment, she was wearing one of my discarded night gowns, an emerald green one that was fairly sheer, perhaps even more so than some of the others I had given her, and the first time I had seen her in it.
"I'm sorry ... what?"
She had caught me off guard. I'd been sitting there looking at her, not realizing I was actually staring, or that I had actually taken note of my young daughter's revealed form beneath the nearly transparent nightgown.
She laughed, "You were staring," she said openly. "Too revealing?"
It was actually. "Maybe a little yes, but that's not what I was actually thinking about."
"Oh? What then?"
"I guess I was just realizing how grown up you really are," I said honestly, and then laughed feeling a little silly.
"Oh, it's just that in a way ... you really do remind me of me a little I guess. The way I used to look when I was your age."
"What do you mean by that?" Sharon asked curiously now sitting back against the couch, and I noticed as she did that, just how prominent her firm perky young breasts really were.
"Well for one thing," I said now sitting back more into my chair as well. "I used to have breasts as pretty as yours are, but obviously, mine have started to droop a little with age." In saying that, I had made it obvious that hers were revealed enough to look at. At least the hint of them behind the thin green chiffon was enough to cause her to look down at herself. She surprised me however when she actually cupped them in her own hands, hefting them up a bit.
"I don't know mom, I think maybe they're already starting to droop a little already."
"Not hardly," I said again, suddenly feeling a little strange by this direction of conversation. And it wasn't like we hadn't had similar discussions in the past, including at times talks about sex, what sort of things she should expect from boys and some of the tricks and lines they might try using on her as she began dating. Even those discussions hadn't had me feeling quite this "tingly" as I called it, and which I was certainly feeling. Tingly for me, was a term I had often used around Robert to let him know I was aroused. And to admit to myself now that I was, was rather unnerving for obvious reasons.
"Let me see yours," Sharon said suddenly, innocently. Once again her comment catching me off guard.
"Your boobs mother, let me see your boobs!"
I was still trying to digest the words I'd just heard let alone find an answer for, when she suddenly reached down yanking the nightgown she was wearing up and over her head. Once again, her hands now cupping her own breasts as she tried looking at them, lifting them and then letting them go. I caught her eyes locking on mine as I sat there staring at her once again.
"Why?" I thought without saying it actually, and found myself reaching down to begin undoing the buttons on the blouse I was wearing instead. And unlike my daughter, I was wearing a bra, so it took another moment to reach behind myself, undoing the clasp.
"You've still got great looking tits," Sharon said once again very easily, very innocently. But I felt myself blushing at her comment nonetheless, especially as hearing her use the term "tits" was far more erotic sounding that when she'd said "boobs" to me previously.
"Thank you," I said a bit sheepishly, feeling even sillier as I briefly held my now loosened bra against myself before shrugging it off, baring my own breasts for my daughter. Then almost as she had done, I looked down at myself, cupping my breasts and then lifting them. "See?"
"Not really," she answered. "Come here ... come sit beside me," she asked scooting over in order to make room as she patted the couch next to herself.
Perhaps I acquainted that moment to times in the past when I'd been with girlfriends of my own growing up. I had remembered times when very early on, we had all sat comparing and admiring the changes in our bodies as we developed and began growing up. So in a very strange way, it felt somewhat like that as I finally stood, walked over the few feet, which separated us, and sat down.
My daughters continued innocence still unnerved me a little, though why I didn't know. When I felt her hand actually cupping my breast for a moment, lifting it, I felt a little lightheaded.
"Well for one thing, yours still are a bit larger than my own," she said now bouncing them up and down with her hand, likewise lifting one of hers as though comparing them. "So they're obviously a bit fuller ... a bit heavier. See?"
If I was lightheaded before, I was even more so now as I felt Sharon's hand taking mine, placing it on one of her breasts. "See mother? Not quite as heavy as the way yours feel are they?" she asked bringing me back to the present.
"Ah no ... not quite," I stated having given my daughters breast a quick inquisitive inspection as I bounced the weight of it in my hand, doing so long enough to not raise suspicion that I was doing anything more than that, when the truth was something else. Something else that I didn't even dare acknowledge, to myself! And added to that, I was again looking at her as she took over, once again comparing our breasts together, scooting over just enough to now press them side by side as though judging our somewhat similar shape and size. What wasn't similar however, were our respective nipples, something else now that my eyes had come to focus on momentarily. When I had first walked over to sit down by her, my nipples were normal, natural in their appearance. I felt myself blush, realizing as I looked at her, they were now hard, the areolas suddenly puckering and crinkly with arousal, the nipples themselves now hard, swollen and fully erect. Just as my own daughters were!
"I wish I had nipples like yours," she now added, once again shocking me briefly, though it was more embarrassment than anything else upon hearing her comment.
"Why? You have gorgeous nipples!" I informed her, meaning it, but hearing myself actually telling her that sent a jolt of unexpected excitement coursing through me.
.... There is more of this story ...