Bringing Gina up on my own after Clive (the bastard) had left me wasn’t easy. It wasn’t just the day-to-day trials, it was having no one to talk to about problems, or to share the responsibilities.

In a way I figured that it was my fault - I’d put Gina on the pill as soon as I thought that there was any chance at all of her having sex. I’d also let her take boys up to her room; that way at least I could keep an ear open for any unpleasantness. I’d drawn the line at letting them stay overnight though.

As the fourth boy in as many weeks left, grinning like the proverbial cat, I figured that I really had to have a word.

When I went up to her room she was lying face down on her bed, sobbing quietly into her pillow. I sat next to her and stroked her back. She immediately sat up and threw both of her arms around me, burying her face in my neck.

I held her, whispering soothing inanities as her tears ran down between my breasts, waiting until she was ready to talk.

“What’s wrong with me, Mom?” she asked me finally, looking at me with red, tear-filled eyes and sniffing.

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” I asked, not a little terrified at what she might mean.

“All the other girls talk about orgasms...” her voice cracked and her face collapsed in sorrow as the sobbing threatened to overwhelm her again. “I need it so much, Mom!”

I was lucky I knew, climaxing relatively easily, but I understood all too well that some women, many women, had real trouble. My heart went out to her: she’d clearly been hoping that one of the stream of boys she’d been seeing would help her. I swallowed hard before speaking.

“Have you tried ... you know ... touching yourself?” She looked at me as if I was an idiot. “Sorry baby, but I had to ask.” I wavered over my next step for quite a while before taking the plunge.

“How about toys ... you know, sex toys?” She said nothing but the look of desperate hope on her face convinced me that I might be on the right track. I took her by the hand and led her to my room. There I opened ‘The Naughty Drawer’ as I’d come to think of it.

I’d built up quite a collection over the years: assorted vibrators all the way from a little bullet through a slim anal one up to a big Hitachi, two phallic-shaped dildos, a Lovense, and two clit-ticklers. I know that sounds like a lot but, to be honest, once you’ve bought your first one from Amazon why not try some more? They already know that you like jilling, don’t they?

She was staring wide-eyed at my secret stash, biting her lower lip.

“What’s this,” she asked, and I gulped as she picked up a squirty bottle of lube.

I tried to keep my voice calm and matter-of-fact. “It’s--” I stopped and thought again. “I--” I began and faltered again. In the end, I picked up the slim anal vibe, “In my bottom,” I blurted out, my voice coming out very quiet and girly while my face burned.

She took it from me and I tried hard not to imagine where it had last been (I had, of course, washed it thoroughly since then!).

“And does that feel nice?” she asked, gazing at me seemingly innocently but with a twinkle in her eyes. For several long seconds, we looked at each other while I tried to think of what to say.

“Yes,” was the best that I could manage.

“Hmmm,” she mused, rolling it between her fingers.

“Borrow anything you want,” I told her, giving her hand a little squeeze and with what I hoped was an understanding smile. “Maybe try some tonight and see how you get on?” Her look of gratitude was almost enough to make me start crying.

“Thanks, Mom,” she said, her voice cracking a little again, and then she kissed me on the lips, so softly and tenderly that as she walked away my tears did start to flow.

I lay in bed that night, looking at the open drawer, seeing the absence of the Lovense, a medium-sized vibrator, and one of the clit-ticklers. Much as I willed it not to, my pussy was getting wetter and wetter as I imagined my fifteen-year-old daughter pleasuring herself with my toys.

Then there was a faint knock on the door. “Mommy, can I come in please?” I pushed the drawer shut. “Come in, darling,” I called out.

She came in looking a little red-faced, dressed in an oversized T-shirt, and with the clit toy in her hand.

“Mommy, can you help me?” she asked nervously, coming over to stand next to my bed. The gorgeous fragrance of her sex wafted up from under her shirt making my tingling clit throb in a most unmotherly way.

“Of course, baby. Anything,” I assured her.

She held up the toy, a small vibrator with two small bunny ears at the end. “What should I do with this?” she said miserably. I guessed that she’d tried the others and this was her last hope. I began to think how to explain but, before I could, she sat next to me on the bed and lifted up her shirt. “Can you show me?” she pleaded, handing me the toy.

My vagina clenched as I gazed at her beautiful pussy: plump and shaved bald with neat inner lips that had the tail of my Lovense dangling between them.

“You--” I stammered as my clit went bananas. “You--” I tried again, but my brain had seized up. I looked up at her face and it was the picture of desire and desperate need.

“Please, Mommy.”

There was no way that I could refuse my baby when she needed me so much. I put my fingers on the top of her mound and pulled up gently, teasing her clit out of its hood. There was nothing wrong with that: bright pink, shiny, and swollen. I glanced up at her face and her eyes were wide with wonder and hope.

I dribbled onto the fingers of my other hand and, as gently as I could, I moistened her clit. She moaned and my eyes flicked upwards to see hers were shut and her mouth open. I tried to remove my hand to pick up the toy but she grabbed me by the wrist and held it right where it was.

As my fingertips brushed gently over her clit her hips rose and weaved. “Oh, Mommy!” she gasped. I could see that she was very, very close but that last fraction just seemed to be eluding her.

I looked at her swollen clit and knew that, if I sucked it, that would definitely push her over the edge. I so much wanted to do it! Her scent was filling my senses and my own clit was pulsating wildly. Instead, I held her lips open with two fingers and then picked up the toy with my other hand and placed the bunny ears on either side of her clit. When I pushed the button to switch it on her whole body went rigid with her back arched right up in the air and her legs splayed wide.

I could see her vagina contracting and her whole body flinched as the first wave of her orgasm consumed her. “Mom!” she squeaked in apparent alarm. I squeezed the tip of the Lovense, increasing its power, and another wave crashed over her. “Oh, God, Mom!” she cried, but this time in pure and unadulterated joy.

It was as if she’d been saving up her orgasms for years and now they were all coming at once. She clung to me for dear life as her little body thrashed and quivered and shook.

“Enough,” she pleaded eventually. I switched off the vibrators and she embraced me, her soaking wet pussy pressed against my thigh and her face nuzzling my breast, as the last few shudders rocked her.

I’d been so involved in giving my daughter pleasure that my own needs had been totally neglected. My pussy was awash with juices and having hers throbbing against my leg wasn’t helping. How I controlled myself I’ll never know but I just wanted to hold her and make her feel how much I loved her.

I think she actually dropped off to sleep for a little bit because she awoke with a start, and then looked up and grinned at me as she remembered what had happened.

“Goodnight Mom, and thank you so, so much,” she said softly and then kissed me. That kiss lingered and, if my clit had detumesced at all, it was instantly throbbing again.

As soon as my door closed I had the fingers of one hand frantically circling my clit and the other pulling brutally at my aching nipples. The sights and the smells of her darling cunt were blazing in my mind and I came so hard that it bent me double.

In the morning Gina seemed happier than I’d seen her for quite a while and she even kissed me goodbye without me having to prompt her; the first time in ages! Even that little kiss stirred memories of the night before and I decided that I’d have to have a talk with her when she got home.

I went up to her room not long after she’d gotten back from school and sat down with her on her bed, holding her hand. She looked at me a little nervously.

“Last night--” I began.

“It was wonderful Mom, thank you so, so much!” she interrupted excitedly, squeezing my hand hard.

“Honestly, baby, it was my pleasure ... but...”

“But?”

I’d thought and thought about how to put this, but in the end, I just winged it, “Have you ever thought about inviting one of your girlfriends for a sleepover.” She looked puzzled. “You know. So that you can ... explore and try things out.”

She blushed furiously. “Mom!”

“Are there any girls that you ... like? Who might like to ... you know? Sorry, I’m not putting this very well.”

She thought for a while. “There’s Erica,” she said, and I thought that I detected a hint of wistfulness.

“Maybe you could ask her? For a sleepover I mean?”

She looked at me with a little smile. “OK, Mom.”

At around lunchtime the next day I got a text: ‘Can Erica stay over on Friday?’. I replied: ‘Of course, sweetie’

When Gina brought Erica into the kitchen on Friday I was every bit as tongue-tied and panicked as I’d been the first time that I’d met my childhood friend Petra. My mind flew back to those innocent but oh-so-exciting explorations that we’d shared in my room.

When I came back to the present they were both looking at me expectantly.

“Erm ... I’m sorry?” I said, having no idea what they were waiting for.

“I said ‘this is Erica’, Mom!” Gina said, testily.

“God. I’m so sorry. I was miles away. It’s lovely to meet you, Erica.” I said, jumping up and shaking her hand. She was the image of Petra: soft strawberry-blonde curls, deep blue eyes set in a gorgeous heart-shaped face, and with full soft-looking lips. Her breasts looked to be high and perky--

“Mom!”

I realized that I was still holding Erica’s hand.

“Sorry. Sorry. You girls have a lovely time,” I blabbered. “In your room. Sleeping over.”

Gina led Erica out of the room, throwing me a filthy look over her shoulder as she left. I sat down heavily on a chair, my heart beating way too fast and my pussy a tingling damp mess between my legs. God, she looked so much like Petra! I wonder if she tastes like her? The thought was just there in my head, unbidden, and I had to physically try to shake it loose before those old memories threatened to overwhelm me.

The girls went back up to Gina’s room right after dinner and I sat watching the TV, trying not to think about what that blonde nymphet and my daughter might be doing.

When I eventually went to bed I couldn’t help but open ‘The Naughty Drawer’. One of the penis-shaped dildos and the clit tickler were missing!

I sat in bed and read the same paragraph in my book four times before I gave up: my mind just kept forming images of what Erica and Gina were doing with my toys. My pussy and my clit were tingling and swollen and I was very wet, but I refused to masturbate: she was my daughter for fuck’s sake, last night had been bad enough!

When I tried to sleep I tossed and turned for ages before, finally, I had to get up to pee. On the way back from the bathroom I met Erica. She was wearing what must have been of of her Dad’s old singlets. The straps hung loose and barely covered her clearly naked breasts, and the hem hung just below her pussy, showing off her slender legs beautifully.

We did that little dance in the corridor where you both keep going the same way and then started chuckling.

“When you first saw me ... it was as if you thought you knew me?” she said with a shy smile.

“You reminded me of someone that I used to know,” I admitted. She was very close and the vest covered very little. What with that, and the memories of Petra that she stirred up, my nipples were like bullets.

“Someone that you liked?” she asked, looking directly at them!

I was vaguely aware that her arm was moving slightly and, out of the corner of my eye, of some motion lower down.

“Yes,” I confessed. “We were ... good friends,” I finished lamely. She lifted two fingers and kissed them, and then touched them to my lips. They were wet!!!

“Goodnight, Mrs. Goodyear,” she said with a wide grin.

The delicious smell of girl sex drifted up into my nose and as she walked away the cheeks of her little bottom were just visible, jiggling wonderfully. She peeked back at me over her shoulder and caught me looking, but just smiled and blew me a little kiss.

She was almost out of hearing before I could speak, “Felicity. Please call me Felicity.” I croaked. “Oh, and I love you,” I added in a whisper.

I tottered back to my room on legs that would scarcely obey me. I had to stuff my hand into my mouth to stifle my cries as the Hitachi, on full power, did its thing. I came three times before my clit finally calmed down. Only then did I lick my lips, and her wetness, the scent of which had been enflaming me like a drug, tasted just like Petra’s.

Not surprisingly perhaps, I dreamed of kissing and licking the pussy that had been the source of that gorgeous taste. In the dream, she morphed from Erica to Petra and back, and then we were sixty-nining and I was in ecstasy as soft young lips were kissing my clit.

I was close to orgasm when my lover suddenly became Gina! It was my daughter with her head between my legs! My daughter’s plump, soft pussy that my tongue was impaled in! I awoke as the orgasm hit me, with my clit pulsating and my vagina convulsing, squeezing out my juices to run down between the cheeks of my ass. The arousal that I’d felt when the girl had become Gina was ridiculously intense, and I lay there with my heart hammering as the waves of my cum made me flinch each time.

It was just a dream, I told myself; we can’t control what happens in our dreams. But the fact remained that it was the first time I’d ever actually had an orgasm during a wet dream.

After a disturbed night’s sleep, I woke up a little late and I had a very quick but urgently needed shower.

While I was in there I gave myself a good talking to: the thoughts I’d been having about my daughter and her little friend were totally inappropriate and couldn’t continue.

As I went downstairs I could hear the girl’s bubbling, happy laughter before I even got to the kitchen. When I did, the second thing that struck me was that they were in the process of making a mess. Actually, I think that what they were trying to do was make pancakes, but on the whole, it was a mess!