She had paused, smiling wistfully, thinking that she had looked much the same when she was her daughter's tender age. Sandy's slightly darker blonde hair was long and straight, and fanned down over her shoulders and narrow back, framing a face which was much like her mother's, though slightly rounder and with her father's protruding lower lip, which gave her an almost perpetual little-girl pout. Alice could see her conical young breast beating with the rhythm of her heart, solid and upright, not as large but not as developed as her own; her flat belly and cute navel and the gentle sloping to her thighs, where a triangle of softly curling pubic hair covered her vagina; then down, to shapely tapering legs and small ankles. Then Alice had been able to see the thin cuntal valley between her daughter's slightly spread thighs, had watched with a small tingling sensation she wasn't able to understand as she followed with her eyes the still-unbroken vaginal slit with its coral smoothness and the little, limp clitoris nestled coyly in the warm, moist folds of her virginal young flesh.

Isn't there, she'd thought to herself as she had stood by the door, a time when a child is supposed to be a child? To be innocent and foolish, free of the curse of maturity? Has Sandy grown up too fast, especially now, without a father to help guide and counsel her with proper authority? And then she had laughed at herself. The world was simply spinning faster these days, that's all. If a sixteen-year-old girl is eating better now, and getting better education and sports than before, then who was she to hold back her development? Stop worrying…

But Alice couldn't find the energy to even smile now, as she lay in bed waiting for her daughter's return, much less laugh again. She was worrying…

And the young mother was dejected as well. She was a good woman in her own mind, a respectable widow with a child to raise, who had successfully placed sex in the back of her mind since she'd been notified that her husband had died in Vietnam.