But she did slowly withdraw her hands. And it was clearly and obviously slow. Almost like slow motion. Almost like they were both processing the moment and not wanting the sensation to slip away too fast.
But her fingers took a natural detour. To her mother’s nipples. Not like a husband would do. Or like lesbians might do. But in a way that followed naturally with her curiosity. They were part of the package, part of the feminine experience. She sincerely wondered, and rightly so, if fake breasts meant changes to nipples.
She didn’t pull or tug in any sexual way. She merely moved her finger across them in a downward motion. But slowly.
Mom’s nipples reacted. Hardened. Instantly. Soft as her daughter initially touched them. Hard as the last bit of finger passed over them.
And what had been innocent inquiry now drifted into tender sexuality.
Mom reached for her daughters wrists and brought her daughters hands back up to her nipples. And again, her daughter gently, lightly, slowly touched her mothers nipples in a downward motion.
And they became even harder.
Yes, it was turning sexual, but not in the way we might think. Mom didn’t desire her daughter. And the daughter didn’t desire her mother. Not all sexuality is born of wanting to consume someone. Sometimes sexuality is merely the desire to feel. And most women are good at, and seek after, this kind of intimate, intense feeling.
So, yes, it was turning sexual. And yes, it would escalate. But it was all about feeling.
Because they both liked the feeling.
The daughter didn’t need a second gesture from her mom. She knew the feeling her mom desired. Nipples are extraordinarily sensitive for both sexes, but for women the sexual sensitivity is beyond words. Both mother and daughter knew this. And deeply appreciated this powerful feminine fact. So she kept going. Running her fingers down over her mother’s aroused nipples.
The daughter didn’t stop until her mom let out a nearly inaudible groan. She did pull some. She tugged some. She squeezed gently. She pinched softly. All this and more until the inaudible groan slipped out. Mom’s eyes were closed.
And now with lips, and with hands, her daughter loved and caressed her mom’s breasts and nipples in every which way possible. Unlike a man, her daughter new instinctively what felt good, what raised the sensation levels higher and higher, and what brought the best pleasure.
Mom’s eyes are closed. Her mouth is open.
But her daughter is not done. For women can take pleasure longer. Women know a deeper pleasure. Women feel things differently than men.
She didn’t try to inhale or consume or lather her mom’s new and large breasts in saliva. She didn’t try to pull on her nipples until they reached their furthest elastic length. No. She smothered them tenderly with her hands, her fingers, her fingernails, her lips, and her tongue. And yes, her teeth a few times too.
Both remained standing in the same position. Nothing was ever said between them. Mom had a slow, awfully strong orgasm, with the generous help of her own fingers.