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.

"You like?"

"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.

"What?"

"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.

"What?"

"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.

"Too pink," she said as I saw her hand actually fingering one, though I'm not sure she even realized she was as she did so. Her eyes blatantly looking towards mine. "You can even hardly tell where they are, almost like they're invisible at a distance when you look at them," she said. "Yours are a lighter brown, almost tan in color, and you can see where and how they surround the tips of your breasts. I think that looks a lot sexier than mine do."

"They're plenty sexy," I then told her, finally willing myself to stand up and cross back over towards my own chair. I reached for my bra, but then discarded it, deciding to hurriedly put my blouse back on instead, doing so with my back towards her, turning around facing her again only as I began buttoning it closed.

"You've got a nicer ass than I do to," she now added. "Damn mom, you're just plain sexy!"

I was actually relieved when she put the top back on she'd been wearing. And though I could still clearly see the sensual outline and shape of her breasts beneath it, at least now they weren't openly as obvious to me. I could more purposely direct my gaze back to her face now, without having the obvious staring back at me.

"Almost time for our soap," she reminded me. "Would you mind getting me a couple of towels?"

Ever since she'd been home, we had gotten hooked on one of the daytime soaps and had begun watching it together. In order to make her more comfortable so that she could, we would very often sit on the couch together, and I would fold a couple of large towels, and then support her legs across the coffee table while we watched the program. I had lost all track of time, not realizing it was almost time for the show to begin.

"Of course, I'll be right back with some," I told her and then headed upstairs to the linen closet to retrieve a couple of them. As I returned and began heading back down the stairway, I nearly stumbled, breaking my own leg in the process. Looking down into the living room, I could see Sharon's hand had slipped down the waistband of her equally sheer bikini panties. For a moment, I actually thought she was touching herself, which she was, but not in the way my sordid mind had suddenly pictured. As I continued down the steps, even managing a fake cough to let her know I was coming in case she hadn't heard me, she continued on with her hand, only then realizing, she was scratching herself and not doing something else. As far as I knew anyway.

"Ah, got an itch?" I asked letting her know as I said it that I had noticed her hand. This time she actually blushed just a little.

"All over," she told me. "Bad enough that the casts itch me to death, and I can't even scratch there, but I'm getting itchy here now too," she said openly. "Where it's starting to grow back."

I had just learned something else about my daughter I had never thought about either, not that she wouldn't, or didn't, I certainly did myself. But she was in need of a trim or a shave. "I've got a new razor if you want it," I told her as I then began folding the towels placing them down on the coffee table.

"It's not that," she told me. "It's these damn casts, I can't really prop myself up well enough to see what I'm doing. So I gave up trying to do it, and now ... I'm paying for it. And I hate the feeling of that too!"

I finished folding and placing the towels, only then helping her with one leg as I lifted it, placing it down on one of the rests. As I did, I glanced at my daughter's crotch as the subject had now naturally drawn my attention towards that. As I did, I could see the pressed, indented crevice of her young split, the material of the sheer panties having been sucked inwards a bit. It was both obscene as well as arousing to see my own daughter's pussy lips outlined as distinctly as they now where. Once again, I had to tear my eyes away from her crotch before she noticed I had been staring at her there too. I then helped her with her second leg, lifting and placing it, glad when I did that it more naturally closed the intimate space I'd been looking at.

"I don't suppose..." she started.

"What?"

"That maybe after the show, you'd be willing to shave me? Or would that weird you out too much, to be shaving your own daughter's pussy?"

I laughed, trying to make it sound like her concern was ridicules, and that it was an honest simple request, something I was certainly understanding of myself under the circumstances.

"Of course not," I told her. "And we can do it right here too if you'd like. I'll get a bowl and a towel and a razor after the show."

We sat down side by side on the couch after that as our favorite soap came on. But all I could see as I stared at the TV was my own daughter's wet glistening cunt.

After the show was over, which I only then realized I hadn't really been watching like I normally did, Sharon reminded me about the shave, though adding, "And would you mind getting me another pill?"

She had been on pain medication of course since the accident, but it was nearing the time when the Doctor had told us she'd have to be weaned off the meds. She had less than a week's supply remaining of the Percocet's the Doctor had prescribed for her.

"I'll give you one if you really need it Sharon," I said concernedly. "But you also need to be aware, the Doctor said we need to start getting you off the need for them. After they're gone, you'll have to do with Aspirins."

"Yeah, I know," she told me somewhat irritated. "But right now, it still really aches, so hopefully in a week, it won't be quite as bad as it still is now. So ... would you mind?"

I smiled by way of an answer, and then left to get her pill along with the razor, bowl and towel. I knew that within a short time after taking it, she'd no doubt relax, and then nap for a bit just as she always did. Usually, I used that time to do a few chores around the house while she slept. I returned a short time later, handing her the pill along with a glass of water, which she took.

"Ok," I said calming myself, trying to look at this clinically. I was still somewhat confused with myself as to why I had found the morning's conversation and brief show and tell so arousing. It wasn't like Robert and I weren't having sex, or didn't have a pretty decent sex-life ourselves. We did, but why on earth I had allowed myself to become so irrationally aroused the way that I had, remained a mystery to me.

"Mind giving me a hand here?" she now asked. She had managed to raise her ass just enough, taking the waistband and pulling her panties down, to a point. I found myself reaching forward helping to take them the rest of the way off, and now faced for the first time in years with the sight of my young daughters naked quim staring at me. By the starting stubble around it, it was obvious she had made some effort at keeping it bare, but it was also just as obvious in other areas where she hadn't been able to manage it at all. Her pussy looking unruly, unkempt even.

"See what I mean?" she now asked sounding embarrassed.

"It's not that bad," I said actually looking at her, still trying not to focus any sort of attention whatsoever on the actual split where her pink puffy lips protruded protectively. My effort at doing that went right out the window however when she leaned forward somewhat, actually spreading her legs even more than they were as though to examine her own efforts. The moment she did that, her split widened, even the cute sweet knot of her clitoris suddenly came into view winking at me as it did so.

"It's a fucking mess!" she said sarcastically.

"Sharon!"

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "I think it's the meds, you know they get me a little loopy." They did, but I hadn't heard Sharon ever use that particular word before, not even in anger. So having heard my own sweet innocent daughter using it now, had shocked me somewhat. And not that I hadn't used it myself, I did ... especially when I was aroused and excited, but that was something I only shared with Robert, in a fun sexual way. And never said or spat at in anger or for any other reason either for that matter.

"You're forgiven," I told her softening my tone. "Just be careful with your language," I reminded her. "Drugs or no drugs!"

But it was obvious, the potent painkiller was already starting to take effect, which meant we needed to get this done now, or wait and do it later.

"Hmmm, what's the best way you think we should do this?" I asked, though asking myself the question rather than Sharon, though she answered it.

"Probably, you just get down on your knees between my legs," she giggled, and then laughed openly at the way that had sounded, especially when she looked up and saw the red blush spread like wildfire across my face. "Good thing no one else heard me say that huh?" she giggled somewhat again.

"Yeah ... good thing," I said, realizing it really was the pain meds taking over now, and letting her comment go. "But you're right too," I now added, and then stepped over one of her propped up legs and settled myself down between them, now properly positioned, though slightly cramped between Sharon and the coffee table. I then took a fine thin, though liberal splash of shaving cream and began applying that to the first area I intended on shaving.

"Tickles," she again giggled.

"Yeah well, don't move, even if it does. I don't want to nick you."

"What?"

"I said ... don't move, I don't want to nick you!" I said a bit louder, once again hearing her giggle. No doubt, the pain pill was kicking in.

"Oh, I thought you said something else," she told me, once again laughing.

"What?" I said as I began running the razor taking the first swipe at her stubbled area.

"What I thought you said ... was dick me."

"Sharon!" I said, but then even I laughed at that, hearing her burst out in laughter once again, though I honestly blamed it on the pills, and my own nervous embarrassment at finding myself aroused while doing this. Which my own pussy had informed me ... I was.

Though she had started off being ticklish, that soon turned into something else entirely, which I again forced myself to ignore, or at least pretend wasn't happening. Holding her with one hand, and then carefully gliding the razor, it was inevitable that I brushed against her, or touched her to some degree, once as I realized it, even directly doing so against my daughter's clit. I heard her gasp softly, quietly even, as though realizing or sensing that I had. Her own effort in pretending not to acknowledge it, supporting my own in pretending I hadn't noticed I had. But there was one aspect of doing this that neither one of us could pretend wasn't happening, and that was my daughter's cunt was starting to moisten with arousal.

As I moved over and began shaving away the stubble on the opposite side, I couldn't help but notice the glistening sheen that now appeared quite obviously between her lips. Though I glanced up quickly, I was pleased to see Sharon had closed her eyes. Though she seemed to be almost sleeping, I had also noticed her hand was cupping her breast. She wasn't doing anything when I had looked, but she was. Even through the chiffon, it was easy to see her nipple was still hard firm and erect. I quickly looked back at what I was doing, needing to smooth over her left side labia in order to reach a particularly difficult spot. When I did, I heard her groan very quietly as though caught off guard, still trying not to even when she did. In addition to that, she shuddered involuntarily. I watched as a small little droplet of her essence oozed from her split, rolling down between her lips and then forming a small puddle for a moment before flowing over and dribbling down onto the towel we had placed beneath her ass. Once again I ignored I had seen it however, looking back up towards her face briefly. I noticed again that her hand was still on her breast, though I had just caught a brief movement in her hand as she'd scissored one of her nipples between her fingers before letting go.

I finally finished shaving Sharon's pussy and stood up on weak knees, or rather tried to. Unbalanced slightly, as well as suddenly light-headed when I did so, I began to topple forward. With the razor in one hand, I could only reach out with the other in an attempt to keep from crashing into her. As I did, I came into direct contact with her breast, felt it briefly full in my hand. Sharon's eyes popped open of course in surprise, though I had caught myself and straightened.

"Sorry, lost my balance there," I told her feeling the flush spreading across my face.

"Yeah, know what you mean," she said almost breathlessly, though she didn't elaborate.

We quickly cleaned up and then straightened her out more comfortably on the couch. "Why don't you take a little nap?" I suggested. "I've got some laundry to do, and beds to change." I informed her. "After that, if there is still time, and if you're not still asleep, maybe we'll watch a movie together how's that sound?"

"Sounds like a wonderful idea," Sharon agreed settling back into the pillows as I covered her with a lightweight blanket. Hurriedly after that, I headed upstairs, not so much to change the sheets, but to collect myself while sitting on the end of the bed afterwards.

"What the hell's wrong with me?" I thought as I sat there. I had in fact gotten very much aroused shaving my daughter's cunt..."cunt?" I thought to myself once again, "cunt?" I never used that particular word, though I didn't mind hearing it said whenever Robert did, though that was only when he was aroused and we spoke dirty to one another in bed as we had sex. But to actually think it myself, told me, affirmed the fact, I was very horny at that moment too. Only once before during one of our sex chats had I found myself becoming somewhat excited. But even that had been nothing like this. We had talked about masturbation. I sat now remembering then how Sharon had openly asked me about it. Her fears regarding it and some of the rumors, silly rumors in fact, she had heard. I had told her then, reassuring her how perfectly normal it was for people to do it in order to reach some personal satisfaction. I had even shared with her the fact that I had often done so as a form of stress relief. Sharon had come right out and asked me if I did. And though her question had surprised me, I felt that to lie to her would have gone against the trust we'd established. So I had admitted to her that I did, and even when she then asked about her own father, I likewise confirmed that yes ... he still did too every once in a while. Later, after returning to my room, just as I had now, I had realized my own personal arousal over our conversation. But I had also come to accept my own horniness simply because it had been several days since the last time Robert and I had done anything. I had even masturbated then, just to take the edge off as it where, and didn't think anything more about it.

But this, this had been even more intimate, even though the act itself hadn't been meant to be sexual in nature, not really anyway. But I couldn't shake the image of my own daughters 'cunt' as I'd touched it, even innocently meant. The way she had dribbled, the glistening moisture of her own obvious arousal sliding down between her lips, pooling, and then dribbling down onto the towel. I had also caught her, or at least I think I had caught her, playing with her breasts as I shaved her. It had to be arousing to her, that much was evident, and it made me wonder what she had been sitting there thinking about as I did so. Perhaps it was merely the intimate contact, which couldn't be helped, even though I was her mother who was doing it. I then tried to imagine if the roles had been reversed, would I have not also become likewise aroused even involuntarily?

Though I felt I had finally explained things to myself enough to have found rationalization in it, the tingling pleasure, and yes the moisture too between my own legs wasn't going away. I rolled across the bed, opening the dresser drawer where Robert and I kept our "naughty things" as we called them. A couple of vibrators we occasionally took out and used when the mood or the moment struck us, along with some lotions, lubrications, and even a cock ring I had purchased for him more as a gag gift, though he had come to love using it, which we now did very often.

After I had retrieved one of my favorite toys, I quickly stripped myself naked, resituating myself in the middle of the bed. Across the room, Robert and I had mounted a full-length mirror, which we used when dressing. But it had another purpose as well, which had been his idea in the first place, and again, something else we had enjoyed using in the past. Admittedly, we both enjoyed watching one another as we fucked wildly in the middle of the bed.

I had to adjust myself only slightly, the image of me laying, my legs parted, my pussy swollen, throbbing and oh so very wet as I initially fingered and toyed with it. I was incredibly horny and knew it, though I again chocked that off to Robert and I not doing anything for several days now, and also the fact I hadn't even masturbated either. I wasn't about to accept the fact that it had been at seeing my young daughter naked, and then shaving her that had caused my arousal to reach the level that it had.

And there was something else that I didn't realize, at least for several moments anyway. I wasn't looking at my own pussy as I lay there, but was seeing inside my head, my daughters! When moments later I did realize it, realize I'd been laying there fingering my hard knotted clit, I tried shaking the thought from my head, and managed to do so for a moment or two, only to slip back towards doing that as the pleasurable sensations I was bringing myself intensified.

I gave off using my fingers, finally grabbing my toy and purposely conjured up an image of Roberts hard stiff cock, the way it felt in my hand, or inside my cunt as I now inserted the toy and began fucking myself with it. I felt the pleasure increase and knew I could easily achieve orgasm at any moment, that's how excited and aroused that I was. And, I decided to bring it about quickly too, arguing with myself that once I had satisfied this excitement, that I could again compose, and go about doing what needed to be done and not lay here entertaining thoughts I had no business imagining.

Thoughts of my daughters sweet innocent cunt, the way it had glistened, even smelled as I knelt close enough to her to have done so, the aroma of her precious femininity further heightening the decadence I'd permitted myself to entertain. The droplet of her own arousal, so wanting to capture it with the tip of my finger, drawing it into my mouth, tasting it ... tasting her. Robert's cock no longer apart of the fantasy now as I edged closer and closer to orgasm, the final release seizing me as I pummeled the hard knobby ridged toy in and out of my daughters slick cunt as I came.

I had dressed quickly, likewise stripping the bed and bundling the sheets together making them easier to carry back down the stairs to the laundry room. I stepped out into the hallway and headed towards the landing, reaching it just as I heard Sharon groan. I stopped, holding my breath as though that would help me to hear better. Sure enough as I stood there I heard her again. I took the next several steps down the stairs as quietly as I could, now curious if it was just my overactive, still somewhat aroused imagination controlling me. Though I also rationalized that if it wasn't, that perhaps Sharon was either dreaming, or actually in pain with the meds no longer giving her the relief they normally did. I finally reached a point on the stairs where I could peer down into the living room where she lay. For a moment I neither saw nor heard anything, and nearly took another step. Then ... she moaned once again, and this time I saw the telltale movement of the lightweight blanket, which still covered her. It was obvious, and clearly so, as to what she was doing.