My favorite type of 'period sex'
I'm talking about oral with toys. Not foreplay wearing historically accurate costumes.
On some of those evenings when all I can do is collapse, I collapse onto him.
This was one of those evenings.
I walked into the living room after putting our boys to sleep. I found him, my husband, on the couch. And I dropped my body around his.
The collapse was like a hug. A straddle. A languid scissoring, but not the sex version — the thing kids do on swings.
I wasn’t planning to. When collapse is on the mind, mounting isn’t usually the first association. But his response to my arrival was enthusiastic. Oh, hey, baby, I think. The greeting beckoned me, and my lifeless body answered.
He said nothing after my collapse, and neither did I. At least for a while. He wrapped his arms around me, one at a time, and squeezed a little. His hands held his biceps, or his elbows — I don’t know, I couldn’t see. He kept me upright, and I closed my eyes.
After I didn’t even know how long of muscleless sitting, I said, “You’re getting me horny.”
He laughed. He wasn’t doing anything. But the contact and the relaxation aroused me. I started grinding on him.
“You still on your period?” he said.
“Yes, but I don’t mind,” I said.
I turned my face into the side of his. He turned his face into mine. Our lips touched. I pressed my bottom one between his. They smacked together. I kept grinding. His pelvis tilted up toward mine. His arms unlocked. He felt me up my back and down.
The whole room felt right. Objects were out of place, sure, but the lights were dim, and my husband was warm, and his mouth tasted like him.
We made out for long enough for me to moan with sincerity. An “mmm” came out of my mouth after traveling up from the bottom of my spine. I licked his earlobe. Then I said, “I will lick you every day of my life.”
He said, “I thought that’s what you wanted me to do to you.”
“Well. I do,” I said. “Let’s come. Me first. Then you.” I stood up before him, still in my faded cotton lounge clothes. “Unless you’re scared,” I said, joking about our habit of avoiding penetration during menstruation due to mess, my tender vaginal walls, and the stinging sensation of blood in his urethra. Then I said, “Unless you want to fuck me with something else?”
“Funny you should say that,” he said. “Look in that package on the shelf.”
We unboxed a small parcel addressed to him, with no sender's name. Inside was a metal butt plug, a marbled blue silicone dildo, and a promotional keychain of a hand in a gesture that’d make the dildo superfluous.
I asked him what the occasion was, and he said, “We only had the one butt plug,” which made sense to me. I told him so and that I claimed the keychain. He didn’t argue.
I was naked on the ground covered with a blanket, beside the lube and vibrator he laid out, when I laughed and said, “This is how my favorite type of sex looks.”
“What’s that?” he said.
“Fully concealed under a blanket.”
He chuckled. He pulled his shirt off.
“Take those off too,” I said, nodding toward his shorts.
He did so and pulled his cock down with his hand.
“I love you,” I said. “I love this.” My eyes grew misty.
“Me preparing to service you?” he said.
“Yes. Watching from here,” I said. “This. Well, it might be the best feeling of my life.”
It was. But then it was matched and surpassed…
