Mom looked at me. You sure you can handle this, she asked. I nodded. A lot of men can't, she said. It frightens them. We both knew that neither of us wanted her to stop now. She reached under her skirt and eased her pantyhose down. Her bared toes flexed in the pile of the carpet. She unhitched her skirt, let it fall and stepped out. She has pale, sturdy legs. She wore white cotton knickers that moulded her belly and stretched tightly over the mound at its base. She took the elastic in both hands at the waist and pulled them down and off in a single, supple movement. I saw she was shaved which I didn't know. Her slit with its plump lips and the slight protrusion of her clitoris. Neither of us spoke. She lowered herself gently to the bed on her back. Her legs parted wide. «Come,» she said.