She expected her mother to take one look at her and scream "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" When, instead, her mother simply glanced at her and said "How did th... tests turn out?" she was flatly amazed that what had happened apparently didn't show."Not so good," she said softly."What does that mean?" asked her mother."It means we have a lot of work to do," said Cecelia. "We have to do better." I know you can," said her mother supportively, and then went back to her knitting.In her room, Cecelia reflected. "She bit her lip and I reached out to tug on a nipple, "your father is gone and you are mine."She looked into my eyes before she smiled and turned to help, "okay."I sent her to the table, "when we get back I have a ride for you."She looked at me and grinned, "I like rides."I smiled as I kept working and then began setting pancakes on the table. After we ate and cleaned up I pulled her to the fresher and washed her slimy cunt. I had a few long skirts and silk blouses for her and she grinned at. He always slept late anyway, but this morning she wanted him to sleep a little longer, to recuperate his energy after last night’s exertions. She still couldn’t believe how wonderful it was to make love with him; how wonderful he was to her; how wonderful it was to have him inside her.She cleaned her pussy with some feminine wipes. Mom told her never to use toilet paper after masturbating. Wipes were better, gentler. It was lesson number 189 or something like that as part of The Talk they had. She went ahead, my eyes watching a large if shapely rear tapering down to well-muscled legs and pale chunky calves gently swaying with each step, encompassed by a knee length skirt, no tights though. Above she had narrow shoulders encased in a plain thin blouse with her bra showing, clearly encompassing a very nice and large bust, shoulder length dark brown hair, short and sweet. A typical though pretty middle aged lady on the wrong side of forty, a bit like myself, well the wrong side of forty.