The Weekly Ritual Part 2 - Sex Stories

The Weekly Ritual Part 2

... happened three years ago, Eva. That was just a weird, fleeting moment; it wasn't real.

But even as I tell myself that, my mind drifts back to that night.

We sat at the kitchen table, casually bottomless like I am now. We were chatting about mundane school and work drama at first. Then, the conversation turned more intimate. Mom asked if I touched myself, and then she admitted to using the showerhead to masturbate.

I was so turned on hearing her talk about pleasuring herself. She described how she would take her time, building up the sensations by touching her hips and under her breasts, describing how any part of the body could be an erogenous zone.

And when she reached across and touched my arm so lightly, it sent sparks through my whole body. My heart began to pound as she slowly dragged her finger down my ribs and hip and onto my bare thigh, caressing the sensitive skin. Her feather-light touch was electrifying in a way I had never experienced before.

I've been with a few different partners, both guys and ...

... girls, since starting college, but none of them had ever made me feel the way my mother did in that moment.

I hear the faint hum of the washing machine starting up down the hall. Mom will be back any minute. Yet still, I stand frozen in place, looking down at my bare flesh.

At Maya's suggestion, I started getting laser hair removal down there. I'm completely bald except for a thin little brunette landing strip I leave neat and trim. Everything else is silky smooth.

I feel exposed standing here like this. Vulnerable. My womanhood exposed so brazenly, right here in my mother's living room. I rub my thighs together, feeling my inner lips slide against each other, and realize I'm already getting wet.

Before I can think better of it, I reach down tentatively and part my lower lips with two fingers, revealing the pink, engorged bud. I let out a soft gasp at how swollen and sensitive it is, peeking out from beneath its hood. It looks like a ripe little berry begging to be plucked.

I trail my fingers down, and they...