My mother was tall and willowy, with smooth, light golden skin and long, layered, sun-blonde hair--flaxen hair descended from her Norwegian blood--that almost glints white in the sunlight. She has elegant features and high cheekbones, the kind that any fantasy fanboy may have imagined a regal elven queen to bear. She's slender and tight, with a flowing body unobstructed by the cut of leanness that some CrossFit moms have going for them. Her breasts were just over a handful, while her butt was small, widening sideways from her hips like a pear. Her cheeks were round and as golden as the rest of her skin thanks to the sunbathing she did in her whale-tale, micro G-strings that I'm sure I'm not supposed to know about, but I did. I looked upon my mother, admiring her slender body and her little handfuls and their pinkish nipples, hard and long, with somewhat puffy areolas. Her stomach lay long and smooth, the hint of twin muscles running down its length to her mound, where her thick landing strip matched the color of her flaxen, sunlight hair. I reached out and brushed her pubes, their silkiness making my cock bob, and then I looked below, where the rest of her sex lay hairless, wet and small and flushed pink with her desire for me--her son--and my cock. "Don't you want it, son?" Mom asked, spreading her legs for me and tightening the muscles of her ass, pushing her cunny upward. "Don't you want your mother's pussy? Don't you want Mommy's little pink hole?"