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. The sight that greeted me forced a hungry moan from my throat. Mom had her curtains open, and sunlight shined across her naked body. She sat in her leather swivel chair, with her left leg crossed under her right--the leg closest to me--and she was leaning backward, as naked as a woman can be. Her almost small breasts drew my eyes, capped by flavorful pink nipples that deserved to be the toppings on two scoops of peach sherbet. After clicking her mouse several times, she sat back and turned her chair toward me, giving me the full view of the hairs between her legs and the upper half of her pussy. Below, the rest of her cunny rested against her leather seat.