The Weekly Ritual Part 2 - Sex Stories

The Weekly Ritual Part 2

I stand outside my mom's apartment door, running my hand through my long brunette locks before raising my hand to knock just as the door suddenly swings open.

"Evie!" Mom screams giddily, immediately pulling me into a tight hug. "Come in, come in! Oh my god, look at you! Did you just make it in?"

I laugh and hug her back just as enthusiastically. It's been months since I've seen her in person.

"Yep, drove straight here from school," I say as Mom ushers me inside.

"Let me look at you," she says, holding me at arm's length. "Just as gorgeous as ever."

I smile, looking down at my own body. I suppose she’s right. At twenty-one, I've grown more confident in myself and my body. My simple white t-shirt hangs loosely, but my yellow cotton shorts hug my toned legs. At twenty-one, I've definitely filled out from my once gangly frame. I stopped dance classes in college but picked up a weightlifting habit that has really paid off. My arms and legs are muscular yet still feminine. I know I look good.

As Mom looks me up and down approvingly, I can't help but return her gaze. At forty-eight, she is as youthful and radiant as she’s ever been. Her blonde hair is pulled up in her signature messy bun, a few loose strands framing her face. She wears black yoga pants and an unbuttoned cardigan over a fitted tank top that shows off her toned figure.

"You look great too, Mom," I say sincerely.

Mom waves her hand dismissively, "Oh shush, I'm a mess!" She sighs and looks ...

... around the room. "Kinda like this place. Sorry, the movers literally just came by today, and I haven’t had time to unpack.”

I look around her new apartment. It’s in a state of controlled chaos, with stacks of cardboard boxes everywhere overflowing with the contents of her old life.

“Nah, it’s fine. Are you relieved to be moved in finally?"

“I’ll be more relieved when I’m actually fully moved in. One of the moving trucks broke down, can you believe it? They're delivering the rest of the boxes tomorrow."

"No way, that sucks!" I say. I gaze around at the stacks of boxes filling the space, some in various states of being unpacked. A half-filled bookshelf sits in the living room area, a box labeled “Books” next to it. The kitchen cabinets are in various stages of being filled. A few stacks of dishes are lined up on the kitchen counter, some still wrapped in newspaper.

"I know it's a disaster right now, but we have the essentials!" she says, gesturing to the TV and couch in the living room, “I'm just so excited for our movie night! Oh my gosh, it's been what, three years since we've had a proper Mom and Eva night?"

I chuckle. "Yeah, I think so. Probably not since before I left for college."

A fond warmth fills me as memories from those long-ago evenings come flooding back — our laughter and inside jokes, animated conversations, and — those subtle, confusing undercurrents that neither of us had ever dared acknowledge aloud.

"Want something to drink?” she says, ...