His mother had a great figure. He knew from a mail order she had placed that she had a 36c 24 36 body. Her auburn hair was shoulder length and her leg... were those of the dancer she had studied to be. In short she was a ten in anyone's book. Since the age of thirteen, he had taken every opportunity to catch her in various modes of undress, mostly when she showered and was careless about closing her bedroom door. Many a time he had sneaked in to her bedroom and watched as she soaped herself. Her finger nails were long, pointed, and painted matte grey. If he didn’t know her as mother, he would want to fuck her, and even now he was considering waving that condition.Finally, words found him. He looked his mother in the eyes.“But mom… we can’t. I mean, isn’t it wrong?”His mother flashed him a smile - her typical, everything-is-going-to-be-ok smile - and squeezed his arm harder.“Yes, my dear, it is… if you listen to what other people say.”His confusion must have showed, because she gave. More

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