She smiled down at the slim, lithe figure of her little girl. Not so little anymore at fourteen, a beautiful budding flower becoming a woman. She seemed so small and frail. How was she ever her age herself? And now, she was mom to a perfect child. No, teenager. A child no more. Angela leaned down and kissed Sara’s cheek, lightly stroking her hair. She knew her daughter was awake, only pretending to be asleep. It was a game almost. Sara still sometimes pretended she didn’t want her touches, her kisses, but Angela knew the truth. A few light grazes, a slow massage of her soft ass cheeks, another kiss, lower down. Angela smiled as her daughter’s nipple stiffened as she licked it. That’s all it took anymore. Then, sliding her hand down her child’s belly, she parted her legs. Already wet, just like mom. Always wet.

She knew her daughter still struggled sometimes, accepting who she was. That sometimes she felt “wrong”. Angela herself vaguely remembered those thoughts, so long ago herself. But it was rougher for her. Angrier. Her father just took and took. Angela made sure Sara didn’t know that. Guilt perhaps, but pleasure, so much pleasure. She remembered the first time her daughter had looked up at her, laughing as white spurted on her. She giggled, cleaning and stroking, such a perfect daughter. Special lap times, touching her gently until she shuddered. Napping nude together as a family, nothing sexual, just bonding.

Of course, those who weren’t like her couldn’t understand. Didn’t understand the level of love she had for her daughter. She wasn’t hurting her. She was protecting her, teaching her, showing her a level of love few dared. And as her daughter got older, she had struggled with that difference. Always at the start of play, but soon, after a few touches and kisses, she was eager, needy, desperate to please. And she did. Whether with her smaller fingers, probing, exploring wet holes, or pumping hard cocks, she was an expert. Under or riding a man, bucking, shuddering, delirious with ecstasy. Guilt before sometimes, guilt after, but during? During her daughter shined.

Even now, her initial pretending to sleep, her initial resistance, was gone. Angela slid another finger inside her daughter’s cunt, pumping them in slowly, her thumb gently rubbing her soft button. She smiled as Sara moaned, legs tensing up, as she leaned down and told her daughter she loved her. Sara, wild-eyed, told her mom she loved her too and they kissed. Society wouldn’t understand. They would use words like abuse, groomed, molested, and rape. But as her young daughter kissed her, none of those were true to her. Angela well knew that things were more complicated than that. Maybe it wasn’t right, but it was more complicated than that. Her tongue swirled with Sara’s as she held her tighter as they rolled in bed. And then, unbidden, her daughter broke the kiss, sliding down. Her young, soft lips kissed Angela’s breasts, then suckled at her nipple as her deft fingers tweaked the other. Sliding down her belly, Angela parted her legs, as the young girl, no, a young woman now, spread her mother’s lips, her tongue exploring. Angela moaned, raising her hips, as she was eaten out by Sara. Eagerly, in fact. So eagerly she didn’t hear her father come up behind her.