I found this site looking for other mom-daughter stories, hoping I'm not alone...
A few years ago my husband of 25 years suddenly passed away. It was a rather big shock to everyone in the family, as there had not been a history of illness. This left me alone at our house. Our family consisted of my son Jake, who was 19 at the time, and my daughter Jennifer who was 23. Jake had just gone to college, and Jennifer had just graduated college. She decided to move back home with me for a while after my husbands death. She said it was temporary while she looked for work, but I knew part of it was to keep me company.
The first few weeks were fine, though neither of us said much. I don’t think we really knew what to say, and making “small talk” or acting as if everything was fine seemed wrong, and unnatural. Most days consisted of me doing whatever I could to keep my mind off of things. Jennifer would be in and out of the house during the day. One evening, as I would do most evenings, I took a shower and put on my usual bath robe. It was nothing sexy or revealing, just a simple covering. However, I wouldn’t wear a bra or panties with this. I hadn’t for years, and had become very accustomed to it. This was never an issue with my husband around, and hadn’t been with Jennifer either, as most evenings she went out with friends and would not see me like this. This night though was the first night she stayed inside. I walked downstairs and saw her sitting on the couch, watching some program on television. I was a bit startled to see her there.
I remember jumping a tad and saying:
“Oh, sorry, didn’t know you were here”.
Suddenly I remembered what I was wearing; no panties, no bra, and just a robe. I know my nipples were poking through, and I definitely hadn’t tied it fully. She glanced over the back of the couch, looked at me, smirked and said: “Yeah sorry, just hanging out here tonight”.
I smiled back, though still a little surprised, and certainly embarrassed by my lack of clothes.
“Come sit by me, we can watch T.V. together”, Jennifer said while motioning to the couch.
I carefully walked over, making sure to not stretch my robe too much. With my husband, if anything popped out or was showing it didn’t matter; half the time I didn’t even notice until he said something. As I slowly lowered onto the couch I could see my robe opening some, the sides of my breasts visible, my nipples just barely hidden. As for my breasts and body, I am a bit chubby. Therefore, it didn’t always take much for a breast to get free. As I lay back against the couch Jennifer just looked at me and smiled. I was still embarrassed with my robe, but felt a little better as the evening went on. Slowly, we both started relaxing more and more in the couch, to the point where I was leaning against her shoulder and she was leaning against the armrest. This was very relaxing and peaceful, and for the first time since my husband’s death I felt at peace. Jennifer began to wrap her arms around me by the waist, just below my breasts. I didn’t mind this, even though my robe had gradually loosened. We continued to rest like this when suddenly I felt Jennifer move her hands up over my breasts, partially on the robe and partially on my skin. She slowly and gently moved her hands up and down, caressing my chest. A bit startled, I looked down. I was in a panic now; I saw my breasts were fully exposed, my nipples out for her to see. I squirmed some trying to cover back up when she lowered her head towards my ear and with a whisper said:
“Shhh, just relax”.
With that she kissed the top of my head and continued to rub my now bare breasts. My heart began racing. What was going on? What should I do? It’s just my daughter, but still I wasn’t sure what to think. I then felt a tug at my nipples. Oh, the feeling. My nipples hadn’t been rubbed like that in years. Her index fingers and thumbs moved my nipples back and forth, while still cupping my breasts. I moved again, still trying to break free for fear of what was happening.
“Just relax mom,”
She whispered again, her hands continuing to rub my breasts. Her hands felt wonderful, and my breasts felt amazing. I slowly relaxed my body like she said, letting her have her way. My robe had now become almost fully untied, and my untrimmed bush was very visible. As she continued to rub my breasts my legs spread on their own. My right hand unconsciously moved to just above my crotch. I was getting wet, and very much felt like masturbating. I closed my eyes and started to play with my bush. I contemplated rubbing myself when I panicked yet again. I jumped up off of my daughter and sat up on the couch, my breasts still hanging free.
“No Jennifer, this is wrong…”
I proclaimed, my eyes still closed. I was very conflicted with my feelings. When I opened my eyes Jennifer was in front of me, smiling with her hands on my legs.
“Mom, it’s ok. Please. I love you.”
With that she leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. Kneeling in front me she pushed me back into the couch. She smiled, and then kissed me again. Her left hand grabbed my breast while her right hand hovered above my vagina. She spread my legs apart, still kissing me, and placed two fingers up inside of me. I jumped again, but she pushed me back down. She kept kissing me on the lips. As my breasts and vagina were being rubbed I forgot about everything that had happened and everything else around us. Jennifer slipped my robe off with ease. I lay completely naked, my daughter on top of me. It was amazing. Not even my own masturbation felt like this. I was so wet I could hear my fingers slide in and out of me. Every few seconds she would lean over and kiss my breast. The fact that it was my daughter meant nothing to me now; I hadn’t felt that kind of pleasure in years. I felt my orgasm coming, but the kissing and rubbing continued. My back arched and my legs shook. Jennifer kept me pinned down while I came. After I caught my breath she laid her head between my breasts and smiled. My own daughter had just rubbed me to orgasm.
We never did this again, and I’m not sure if we will. She continues to live with me, now four years after my husband’s death. We get along fine, but nothing is ever said about it. I worry sometimes that what we did was wrong. I found this site actually trying to find other similar stories, hoping I’m not the only mom like this. Should I feel bad? I haven’t told anyone else I know, and I can’t imagine myself doing so. Any comments or suggestions are appreciated…