“Shh, shh, sweetie. It’s okay,” she mutters as she tenderly caresses her daughter, “ls this too much…?”
“It feels good,” your hand grasps over hers, desperate, “Please don’t stop, mom…”
Your mother wants to curse. Instead, she takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly as she keeps running her fingers over the growing wet patch on your panties. Curls stick out from underneath the lace, same color as her own bush, and she hates herself for the observation and how it causes a warm throb inside her cunt.
And she hates herself more when she can’t get rid of the growing curiosity: just how similar are you to her?
“Do… do you want me to touch you more, honey?” she hears herself asking, before she can stop herself, “Under your panties?”
You glance up at her, mouth agape, and for a moment she fears she made a mistake. But then, you nod, rapidly, and your mother smiles at you, no less nervous about this than you are. Keeping her eyes on yours, she slides her hand inside soaked underwear, and watches as you gasp when her fingers find your silk-slick flesh.
It’s incredible how a flimsy piece of fabric can dull the sensations. But now, even the smallest touch has you moaning and grinding your hips. She feels you, fingers sliding up and down before settling on your clit.
Your hips are bucking up to her touch. You look at her with such pretty, pleading eyes when her fingers stay still. She swallows. God, you are so soft and wet and wanting and… if she’s already gone this far…
“You know… I usually touch myself like this,” she whispers, as the idle, exploratory touches slowly turn into something more focused and tight, and she bites her lip when she watches your eyes widen and then roll back. She touches you as she would herself, and you whimper “mom” and “oh my god” so cutely that she can’t possibly stop.
“You like that, sweetie? You like it when I touch you like this?” she asks, her voice low and breathy in a way it should not be when talking to her child. She presses a kiss on your neck, in a spot she likes, and her fingers quicken in a way that robs you of any coherent words.
“Seems like you do. You really do take after me, honey…”
