I came home from work, just like any other day. Amelia was home before me, as usual, but she was sitting at the kitchen table, which wasn’t usual at all. Normally she’d be up in her room doing her homework.

As always, seeing her was a delight and I smiled at my gorgeous daughter, expecting her beautiful, warm smile in return. But her brow was furrowed and she looked back down at the table. There were six small white rectangles spread out on it.

For a moment I was puzzled, but when I looked again at what was there on the table, my heart quite literally stopped. It missed several beats and then pounded frantically to catch up.

Oh, dear God. No.

My darling Amelia was, and is, the light and the love of my life. My relationship with her father had been short and not particularly sweet. I’ve always known that men held no real interest for me sexually, but I wanted to be a mother so desperately that it was a necessary evil. It was so, so worth it. He was actually angry when I told him that I was pregnant and that I wanted to keep it, and I believe we were both relieved when he stormed out of our lives after a particularly acrimonious argument not too many weeks later.

She was a beautiful child in every way. She’d inherited my grey eyes, but hers were huge and expressive and melted my heart, and her friendly, wide smile beguiled everyone that she ever met.

I honestly don’t know how many mothers would admit that they are in love with their offspring, but that was undeniably the way that I felt about Amelia from the moment that she was born.

It was only when she began to develop during puberty that my love began to change. There was nothing I could do about how my body reacted to the sight of the puffiness of her areolae or the sweet tiny mounds of her darling breasts.

I tried to tell myself that it was just my body, aroused by the sight of a young girl’s innocent beauty and budding sexuality, but deep down I knew that it was more than that. I wanted her. I wanted her so badly. But I was her mother, and I buried those feelings down deep.

She didn’t make it easy for me: at that age, she had hardly any modesty and thought nothing of skipping to or from the bathroom stark naked. Why should she? Except that, every glimpse of her beauty made my heart beat faster and caused my clit to tingle.

At thirteen or so, teenage modesty finally kicked in, but she still happily used the toilet while I was in the shower. She’d sit there unashamedly looking at my body through the slightly frosted glass, while she chatted away, knowing nothing of the effect that she was having on me.

Try as I might, there was no denying the way my body reacted to her, or the sexual fantasies that my mind conjured up. But I swore to myself that I’d never, ever, act on them.

My ‘Amelia Shrine’ was an old shoebox, hidden amongst many others on a high shelf in my walk-in wardrobe. The photos in there were innocent enough in themselves: the normal sort of pictures that any mother would take of her daughter. Some of the other items, maybe not so much.

There were some simple treasures in there: her very first lipstick, a Mother’s Day card with the imprint of her lips made with that same lipstick, a Pandora’s charm bracelet that spelled ‘M♡M’ that she’d grown too old for, but to me represented the love she had for me.

Then there were the panties. I could still remember the day that I found those Bonds pink cotton boyleg panties with the purple piping in the wash. I’d been checking her underwear for years: show me a mother who doesn’t and I’ll show you one that doesn’t care enough. The word ‘discharge’ isn’t one that you want to introduce to a tween girl! It was to check her vaginal health, I told myself, as was the inhalation to check all was well. But the day that they first smelled of sexual arousal I couldn’t deny the fire in my pussy or the way my legs turned to jelly. My little baby girl was becoming a woman!

And the black lacy pair of Bras N Things panties she’d more recently worn, special because they were her first real ‘sexy’ pair. She loved them, saying they felt ‘fancy’ and made her feel all grown up. I’d replaced them with an identical pair when she first put them in the laundry. I’d bought them to empower her, not to try to make her look slutty. But, truth be told, knowing she was wearing them and looking sexy made me all warm inside. I think they became her favorite panties to wear, and whenever I was lucky enough to get a glimpse of her in them I was happy, proud, and terribly aroused.

As time went on, my desires grew. Sometimes, often after a glass or two of Chardonnay, I’d stand in the doorway of her room and watch her as she slept. When I’d drunk a little more, I’d touch myself as I imagined what I’d like to do to her perfect, virginal body. If I climaxed, which was quite often, I’d slink away, full of shame. But when I restrained myself, I’d go back to my room, dig out her shrine, and drive myself insane with the exquisite smell of the panties as I re-read the messages. I’d work myself into a frenzy and sometimes add new messages of love, and of lust, on the backs of the photos, before inevitably submitting to a shuddering climax.

They were only ever intended to be for me, a way of releasing my pent-up desires, and some were quite crazy, and graphic, about what I longed for.

They were messages that Amelia was never supposed to see. Messages that would leave her in no doubt about the oh-so-unmotherly things that I wanted to do to her ... And there they were, sitting on the table-top. And the open box, with the panties spilling over the edge, was on the side.

It was like I had a claw wrapped around my heart, crushing it, as I remembered some of the crazy things I’d written on them.

“Mom?” she said, looking utterly perplexed. “Do you really want to do these things to me?”

I’d never lied to her. Occasionally I’d withheld a truth when I’d thought it best for her, but I’d never lied.

“Yes,” I confessed, “Some of them.” And I hung my head in shame and shuffled my feet like a guilty young girl. I watched as she carefully collected all of the photos and then put them in her pocket.

“Maybe you should...?” I ventured.

“No,” she said simply but firmly, patting them for emphasis. “No.”

She came and stood right in front of me and I had no choice but to look at her beautiful face and those intense grey eyes of hers. The emotions seemed to flow across her features: confusion? anger? disappointment? fear? excitement? was that excitement?

“I’m going to do my homework now, Mom,” she said finally and calmly, as if nothing had happened. I allowed myself to feel a little glimmer of hope in my heart. Maybe, just maybe, things could go back as they were?

My hands went through the process of making her favorite meal, lasagne, while my mind raced; a million thoughts chasing each other around inside my head.

I’d just put it in the oven when I heard her footsteps behind me. “Dinner’s nearly rea--” I began as I turned around, and then stopped dead: she was dressed in just her underwear. A lemon-colored, soft cotton set, that was her current favorite.

“What?” she said challengingly, her hands on her hips. “It’s quite normal for a mother to see her daughter like this, isn’t it?” She was absolutely right, of course, but her darling little breasts in her crop top, and her pussy, with just a patch of fur above, showing through the thin panties, was making my clit go insane.

“Is this what you wanted to see, Mom?” she asked, her voice softer and kinder. She spun around on the spot, and her buttocks, plump but still firm and dimpled like a boy’s, made my vagina clench hard.

“Is that lasagne I smell?” she asked, in a tone once again light and airy and totally normal.

I tried not to look. I tried not to devour her youthful flesh with my eyes, but they betrayed me. My eyes and my genitals both.

We had a perfectly normal meal, with her usual incessant chattering about her day at school, while my pussy got wetter and wetter and wetter, and my labia and my clit felt as swollen and engorged as I’d ever known them.

“I’m going to bed now, Mom,” she said, standing right in front of me. I could feel the heat from her flawless body on my face, and her pussy was just inches from my lips. I couldn’t look away. I could see the crease between her lips through the thin material. I was just wondering if I could smell the faintest hint of sexual arousal from her when she placed a finger under my chin and lifted my head up.

“Nite, nite, Mom,” she said and kissed me on the lips. Did it linger just a little longer than usual? I really wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure about much apart from the throbbing in my loins.

“Nite, nite, sweetheart. Sleep well,” I replied automatically, my mind in a fog of lust.

I watched the cheeks of her gorgeous bottom jiggling irresistibly as she walked away.

Leaving the dishes where they were, I walked on shaky legs to the lounge and sat on the couch. I already knew exactly what I’d find when I lifted my skirt: my panties were plastered to my cunt by my copious secretions. In one motion I dragged them to the side and thrust three fingers deep into my sopping-wet vagina, while the fingers of my other hand rubbed furiously over my clit. I came hard, almost instantly, my pussy cream flowing out and pooling on the leather cushion beneath me.

I was still shaking violently when I heard the unmistakable thunder of Amelia’s feet as she took the stairs at her usual breakneck speed! I smoothed my skirt down over my legs and tried to calm my pounding heart, but I knew that my face would be the same bright red that it always was after I’d had an orgasm.

“I forgot my phone,” she explained as she passed by on her way to the kitchen. Something about my appearance must have caught her attention though, because she came back and stood in the doorway.

“Are you OK, Mom?” she asked, looking at my face intently. Then her eyes opened wide and her face flushed as brightly as mine felt. She backed away hurriedly, staring damningly at my crotch. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry,” she muttered, her hand rising to cover her open mouth. She closed the door behind her as she left.

She knew! Oh God, she knew what I’d been doing!

The next morning was totally the same as any other: I had to rouse her twice before she emerged from her cozy nest, and then she greeted me with that beautiful smile of hers when she finally emerged downstairs.

The relief that I felt was almost a physical thing: my heart had literally been hurting as I’d been making her packed lunch and her breakfast.

She was her normal effusive self: prattling about her plans for the day, and I let myself relax a little, praying that the resilience of youth would allow her to put it all behind her.

I still got the odd moment of blind panic during the day, as I remembered the look on her face as she’d confronted me the night before. And also surges of heat in my groin as I saw in my mind her gorgeous body clothed only in her little-girl underwear.

When I got home and opened the front door, I could hear music coming from the kitchen and my stomach tightened as I wondered why she was waiting in there for me again.

“Hi, Mom,” she said brightly as she looked up from her school books.

She was naked. Or at least, naked from the waist up.

“What?” she asked, her expression pure innocence. “This is what you wanted to see, isn’t it, Mom?” As she spoke she stood up and she was indeed utterly and enchantingly naked.

“I-- I-- I--” I stammered, trying, and failing completely, to stop my eyes roaming over her loveliness. Her small breasts were impossibly high and firm. Her nipples were bright pink and hard atop her puffy areolae. And her pussy: a gorgeous neat crevice between two plump pillows with just a thin patch of soft-looking dark brown hair above.

I knew that my mouth had fallen open, but there was nothing that I could do about it. I licked my lips, imagining what it would feel like to take those nipples into my mouth. Or to slip my tongue into the soft cleft between her legs.

“Here it is, Mom,” she taunted, cupping her breasts and running her thumbs over her nipples. “What was it you said you wanted to do to these?”

“Please don’t, Amelia,” I begged.

“And my bottom,” she said, turning around and presenting me with a view of her perfect, perfect, cheeks. “What did you want to do to that?” And she placed a hand on either cheek and parted them, showing me her tiny pink rosebud.

The only thing in the whole world that I wanted to do at that moment was to bury my face between them and ravish her asshole with my lips and tongue. What I did instead was run away to my bedroom. I threw myself onto the bed and bawled like a baby. The tears and the snot flooded out of me as I contemplated the awful mess that I’d made of our lives.

I was still inconsolable when I felt her hand touch my shoulder.

“I’m sorry I teased you, Mom,” I heard through my heaving sobs. I turned around and embraced her, only vaguely aware that she was still naked.

“I’m so sorry, baby!” I cried into her neck. “I should never have written those things. I love you so, so much darling. I’d never do anything to hurt you!”

“I love you too, Mom,” she said, and I held her at arm’s length and looked at her incredulously.

“You do? Even after...?”

“Of course, silly,” she replied with a fond look. “But you have been very bad ... and I think I’ll stay naked around you ... for a while.” She gave me a tiny smile. “I like it,” she confessed, a flush rising to her cheeks. “It makes me feel ... all warm ... and special ... and I like the way that you look at me,” she said, and the smile widened to a grin. “But I’m hungry now, Mom,” she added, writhing out of my embrace and scampering out of the door.

I tried to hide it, but although we spoke and acted pretty much as usual, her gorgeous body had me in a state of intense arousal all evening.

We watched TV together, but I couldn’t even begin to tell you what we saw. When she stood up and announced that she was going to bed, I was amazed when I saw what the time was.

By sheer force of will I dragged my eyes up from her perfect vulva and looked at her face. She seemed puzzled.

“Mom?”

“Yes, darling?”

“When you get tingles ... you know, between your legs?”

Oh, dear Jesus. Where was she going with this?

“Yes, sweetheart?” I answered, trying to keep my tone light.

“Do you sometimes feel wet ... inside?”

“Yes, I do,” I replied, acutely aware of the sopping wet mess in my panties.

“Hmmm,” she mused, frowning slightly. “Nite, nite,” she said, the frown gone in an instant, before she kissed me briefly on the lips.

“Nite nite, baby girl. Sleep tight.”

My heart was in my mouth when I got home from work the next day. I don’t think I was even sure what I wanted to see when I went inside.

Amelia was at the kitchen table again. Naked again.

“Hi, Mom. Good day at work?”

“Not bad,” I replied, as airily as she’d asked. “You? Did you have fun at school?”

“Same really. Not bad.”

“Good. What would you like for dinner?”

“Mom. I’ve been thinking,” she said, ignoring my question.

“Ookaaay?” I replied, slowly and somewhat nervously.

“I think you should be naked too,” she announced.

“I-- I-- I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I stuttered.

“But you were very bad, weren’t you?” Once again I hung my head in shame.

“I was,” I confessed, my voice coming out tiny and high-pitched.

“So you’ll be wanting to make it up to me then, won’t you?”

I stood there for what seemed an age, torn between my motherly instincts and a strange and very powerful desire to be naked in front of my beloved daughter.

“Is this what you really want, Amelia?” I asked, my voice breaking with emotion.

“It is, Mom,” she replied firmly. “Now, Mom. Please.”

My hands were shaking badly as I undid the buttons on my blouse. I glanced up at Amelia and her eyes were wide and excited. I undid the skirt next, letting it drop to the floor before I picked it up,

I folded them both carefully, buying time, and placed them over the back of a chair. I caught her eye hopefully, but she just looked at my underwear and nodded.

Reaching behind my back, I undid the clasp on my bra, and then slipped the straps over my shoulders, cupping my breasts to hold it in place.

I don’t think I’d ever been so excited, and I didn’t dare look down at my panties, because I could feel my pussy juices leaking into them.

Once again I peeked up at her for confirmation, and once again she simply nodded. I was trembling almost violently as I let it fall to the floor, and then lowered my hands to my sides.

I didn’t dare look up, but I thought that I could feel her eyes boring into my breasts. They are quite large, normally a D cup, and mercifully still with not too much sag. My areolae are brown and largeish, but my nipples are quite small; they were both wrinkled and painfully hard.

“And the panties,” she urged quietly.

“Amelia, are you--?”

“The panties, Mom. Don’t be bad again,” she interrupted.

I put my quaking fingers into the waistband and pushed them down. Exposing my pussy to my girl was making my clit so hard that I could feel my pulse in it. I bent down to slip them over my feet and peeked up at her as I stood up: her eyes were on stalks and she actually gasped when she saw me.

My labia are quite large and fleshy. Personally, I adore them, but I’m always a little nervous when undressing in front of someone for the first time. Amelia was licking her lips and staring unashamedly between my legs. She stood up and slowly walked towards me, her eyes never wavering.