I’m desperate for a pee, but Collette is taking even longer than usual in our shared bathroom. I try pacing up and down the corridor outside, then hopping from foot to foot in front of the door, even attempting mind control on her in desperation.

In the end, I can’t stand it any longer. I knock on the door and then rush in without waiting for a reply.

“Sorry, sweetie. I can’t wait!” I call out to her as I pass the shower cubicle. I curse the satin robe when it gets tangled up as I sit down, and viciously yank the sides apart as I plonk myself down on the toilet.

The relief is indescribable as I can finally relax, and I let out a huge sigh, throw my head back, and close my eyes in utter blissful relief.

“Oh, God, that’s better,” I gasp when the flow eventually subsides, and I open my eyes to see my daughter staring avidly at my body. I look down and realize with a shock that, in my panic, I’ve pulled my robe wide open and my whole naked body is on show.

Looking back at Collette, she is still staring at me wide-eyed, and the jolt of arousal that her gaze sends through me makes me bite my lip to stifle the moan that I suddenly need to make.

My eyes flick downward, take in her breasts: small, high cones that are so firm that they scarcely move as she lovingly washes them, and are topped by pink, impossibly hard little nipples, and then on to the neatest, most perfect pussy, topped off with a light spray of her flame-red hair.

I drag my eyes away, trying to convince myself that the intense tingling in my clit and the clenching of the muscles in my vagina are just down to a semi-sexual release from emptying my full bladder. I reach for the toilet paper, pulling off two sheets by touch alone, as I peek out of the corner of my eye to see my daughter still soaping up her breasts while her eyes are still flickering between my breasts and my pussy.

I adore the way she’s looking at me, and my clit is now fully erect and my vagina is throbbing with the blood pulsing into it. I can’t breathe as my hand finds its way between my legs and my thumb joint presses unnecessarily against my aching clit as I dab myself dry. Dab, dab, dab ... she’s so mesmerizingly beautiful ... dab, dab, dab ... her little hand moves down over her slightly rounded belly ... dab, dab, dab ... Oh, dear God, she’s lathering her pussy ... dab, dab, dab ... I really must stop ... before I cum.

Our eyes meet, and I’m really not sure what she’ll see on my face: the shame or the longing. In her eyes all I see is confusion, but as I drop the tissue into the bowl and remove my hand, she can’t hold my gaze, and her eyes drop downward again, staring between my legs.

I must leave ... but it’s like I’m paralyzed. “I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “About bursting in on you.”

“That’s OK, Mom,” she says, with a little smile. Dear God, if only she’d stop washing her pussy, then maybe I could move.

“I was desperate,” I add unnecessarily. “For a pee,” I add hurriedly, because now I’m desperate for something else entirely. But she doesn’t know that. I hope. “Obviously.”

“It’s fine, Mom. Honestly.”

She’s still staring at me as I stand up and pull the robe closed. Only then looking up and giving me a sweet little smile that does nothing to quell my wobbly legs.

The feelings that showing my body to my daughter gave me are like a drug that my body craves, and I find myself thinking about her all the time. Was it my imagination that she seemed as bewitched by the sight of my body as I was by hers?

I even stand naked in front of my full-length mirror, trying to honestly appraise my body. It’s not too bad, I think to myself, for a thirty-three-year-old mother of one. I cup my D cup breasts that have a little sag, but not too much, and still earn more than their fair share of admiring glances. As do my long nipples that are rising as I tease them. My figure is curvaceous, with a tendency to plumpness, kept mostly in check by regular sessions in the local pool.

I look at my pussy, and just the memory of her gaze on it is making me wet. I keep my red pubes trimmed short, and I gulp hard knowing that she’d have seen my inner lips, which are not prominent, but are visible. I’m getting excited just at the memory. I look over my shoulder at my butt. It’s one of my best features, rounded but still firm, but she didn’t see it. I want her to. I want her to see it. I want her to see all of me.

I curse myself for a crazy fool, pull on a nightgown, and get into bed.

I barely sleep though, tossing and turning, trying to ignore the throbbing in my clit as visions of being naked for Collette assault my mind. In the end, I masturbate, bringing myself off to a shuddering climax, and afterward, I manage to get a few hours sleep, but I’m awoken by a torrid dream that, infuriatingly, I can’t remember, except that I know that Collette was in it.

I berate myself, knowing that I shouldn’t let myself become obsessed this way, but I need to be sure that I didn’t imagine her interest. I have to know.

In the morning, as she’s passing my room, I call her in. I’m in just a nice, but not slutty, white underwear: hi-cut bikini-style panties that make my ass look damn fine, and a seamless balcony bra that show the girls off quite nicely. As I slowly get dressed, chatting to her about her plans for the weekend, I watch her in the carefully arranged dresser mirror. She definitely is watching me, and I love it! I put on a blouse first and her eyes don’t leave my cleavage until it’s buttoned, then I bend over to put on some no-show socks. I can see her eyes boring into the cheeks of my ass, and it makes me tremble with excitement.

I drag it out as long as I can, but I finally have to pull on the pencil skirt that I’ve picked out. Her eyes are on stalks as I get it as far as my thighs before putting my fingers into the seams of my panties to pull them out where they’ve ridden up into my ass crack. She’s actually biting her lower lip as I smooth them lovingly over my cheeks, before shimmying the skirt up.

“Does that look OK?” I ask, running my hands over my butt.

She makes a kind of choking noise, and I turn around to see her red in the face. “Are you OK, darling?” I ask, reaching out, I stroke her cheek, and I can feel that she’s trembling.

“Yes,” she manages, and I raise an eyebrow. “Yes, you look ... lovely. And yes, I’m OK,” she says. I look down and her hard little nipples are clearly visible through her clothes. “I’d better go. Bye, Mom.”

“Bye, sweetie. I love you,” I say to her retreating back.

“Love you, too.” I hear faintly.

The whole episode has made me so excited, I have to ‘freshen up’ and put on a clean pair of panties.

I’m sure now of two things: One, showing my body to my daughter is one of the most sexually exciting things that I’ve ever experienced. Two, as far as I can tell, she loves it too. It’s pushing the limits of a mother-daughter relationship, but if we’re both enjoying it, where’s the harm?

All day at work, I’m thinking up ways that I can display myself to her. It’s only when I’m getting changed out of my work clothes that I have a mad idea: I take off my panties and put on a short-ish A-line skirt. The material brushing my bare bottom and the fresh air on my pussy feel fabulous, and wonderfully wicked.

We’re preparing supper together and I ‘accidentally’ drop a knife on the floor. As I bend down to pick it up, I know she’d be able to see my bare bottom, and I hear her gasp.

“Why aren’t you wearing any panties, Mom?” she asks, clearly astonished.

“I often do at home when it’s warm,” I explain. “It’s quite normal. It feels nice, and it stops things getting ... a bit steamy down there. If you know what I mean.”

She blushes the most wonderful shade of pink. “Sometimes,” she confesses.

“You should try it,” I encourage, but she looks uncertain. “Only at home though, obviously.”

That evening, I’m getting ready to have a bath, and I look at my pubic hair, thinking that it could do with a trim. I tease my fingers through it, remembering how cute Collette looked with her puffy mounds mostly bald, and I think I may still have some sensitive Nair in the back of the bathroom cupboard. When I check, it’s still there, and I can’t resist it. Half an hour later I’m smooth as a little girl, and the urge to show it off to Collette is more than I can stand.

I pull on the same robe that served me so well before, and go to her room, tying the sash as loosely as I dare. “Nite, nite, sweetie,” I say as I bend over to kiss her goodnight, and I feel it falling open again.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Why haven’t you got any hair anymore ... down there?”

“What here?” I ask, opening the robe fully. Her intense gaze between my legs makes me weak with arousal.

“Yes,” she says softly.

“It’s a bit embarrassing...” I confess, and I actually feel myself blushing. “But when I saw you in the shower, mostly bald, I wanted to feel like that again. So I used a depilatory cream to take it off.”

She looks up at me. “I liked your red hair,” she says, and my heart skips a few beats.

“Don’t you like this?” I ask as she looks down again. “It feels very soft,” I continue, as her gaze boring into me is making me all wet inside. “You can touch it if you want. I don’t mind.” Fuck, that thought somehow came straight from my groin and out of my mouth, seemingly bypassing my brain entirely.

I have to force myself to breathe as her hand rises and she extends a single finger. The fingertip just brushes my vulva but it’s enough to make me quake.

“It is soft,” she says, her voice full of wonder. “I love it.” She begins to caress me with all of her fingertips, grazing and dancing over my skin, and even touching my inner lips, driving me wild. “Can I--” she begins, but I interrupt.

“You can do anything you like sweetie. In fact, why don’t I lie down on the bed, and you can touch me or do anything at all?”

“Like you’re a doll, Mommy?”

“Yes, darling. Exactly like I’m a dolly.”

I take off the robe and do just that, and for the longest, most thrilling time she just runs her eyes all over my naked body while I get steadily wetter and wetter.

And then she begins to touch me, running her fingers along the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. I wish that I’d parted my legs now, instead of lying with them pressed together with my arms at my sides, but my darling daughter clearly isn’t happy either, because she slips a hand under my left ankle and lifts that leg away from the other by about a foot. I feel the air on my now moist pussy lips and have to suppress a moan - dollies don’t moan.

Now with better access, she uses the whole of her soft hand to caress my inner thighs, and I’m trembling, especially when she gets agonizingly close to touching my pussy at the top of each delicious pass.

“You’ve got such soft skin, Mommy. It’s lovely,” she whispers. “ I say nothing - dollies don’t speak. She looks up at me and smiles - she understands the game I’m playing.

Skirting oh, so close to my vulva, she traces a winding path up and over my belly and up to the undersides of my breasts. My nipples are as hard as they’ve ever been, extending to their full inch in length, and they ache for her touch. But her fingers dance around them, before she cups under both of them with her hands and bounces them, feeling their weight.

“I hope mine grow this big and lovely when I get older,” she says to herself. “They’re fabulous.” Please, please touch my nipples, I beg silently. And she does, just grazing the left one with a fingernail. “And these,” she muses, “are beautiful.”

I have to bite my lip as she explores the crinkled texture with a fingertip, driving me crazy. I’m so turned on that my juices escape my vagina and I can feel a droplet heading slowly toward my asshole.

She takes both of my nipples between her fingertips and rolls them around, but frustratingly gently. I want to plead with her to do it harder - but dollies don’t plead. It’s taking a conscious effort not to pant, or move. I’ve got a desperate need to writhe, to cross my legs to get a little pressure on my poor neglected clit.

And then I nearly cry out as she squeezes my nipples harder, and the relief is intense. I look at her face but her attention is all on my nips, and suddenly she squeezes tighter and tugs at them. I can’t help the little whimper of joy at the jolts of pleasure that sends right down my spine to my clit. Her eyes flash up to mine and she smiles at the expression of gratitude she must surely see there.

“I’m so jealous of these,” she says quietly, and I have to bite my lip as she goes back to her divine work of crushing my nipples to just the edge of pain, and pulling on them sending wave after wave of pleasure through me. I’ve read that some women can climax just from having their nipples stimulated, and it’s only now can I understand how that might be possible.

For a brief moment, I pray that she’ll bend over and kiss them, to suckle on them, but then her hands are on the move again - downward, and I can scarcely breathe.

Her fingers are on my inner lips, parting them and laying them open. “Just like a flower,” she muses. “A beautiful flower with lovely pink petals.” Her fingers are brushing them so, so gently and it’s gorgeous. “Very wet petals,” she adds with a giggle.

I almost moan with disappointment as her fingers leave me, but then I feel her hands under my knees, lifting them and parting my legs even more. I hear her soft hum of happiness at the same moment that I feel the cool air inside my vagina. Sweet Jesus, my baby girl is looking inside me! I adore that, and my clit swells even more, peeking out of its hood, and I hear a little squeal of joy from my daughter as she sees it.