Horny Menstruator

Menstruation. I'm horny as fuck when I menstruate.

The issue is that on my first day every kind of pleasure, every fancy, every zing to my nether regions, is painful. For some, masturbating actually helps relieve the cramps -- for me, it seems to do the opposite.

But on day two... I delve deep into my lust. The want is unbearable. The orgasms I give myself only make me crave human touch more, a warm throbbing cock moving inside me, arms holding me, caressing me, a tongue stroking mine, soft, warm lips, fingers softly flying over my body, the rumble of a deep voice, moans, against my chest. I want all that, badly. When I can't have all that, my hormones often leave me in desperate tears, full of longing.

I had just finished an intense wanking session, watching porn, watching the faces of men as they were getting off, and had turned on a series to binge when I heard his step on the stairs. Seconds later, he appeared in the door frame, and I wanted to eat him alive.

His hair damp from the rain, slightly tousled from the wind, his shirt shoulders wet, his smile warm, a little exhausted. I wanted to slide my hands up his legs, cup his balls and cock through the fabric and slowly rub him till he got hard. I was still horny as fuck and he saw that.

"Have you been masturbating?" he asked with a half grin. I nodded and he inquired: "How often did you come?" I raised three fingers. He rubbed a hand over his face, his smile gone, his eyes wandered over my body. "I'd still like to feel your cock inside me," I admitted. He leaned against the door frame. "Wouldn't that still hurt today?" -- "Not if we took it slow, I think."

I'd never actually done it during my period because my previous partners had been disgusted by the idea of blood on their penises. Probably the reason, why I had been anxious about asking for it with him, but he didn't seem put off by the thought.

He nodded. He moved towards me, bent down, and pressed his cold lips against mine, stroked my lips with his hot tongue, straightened back up, left me wanting. Took my right hand in his, guided it to his nose, and breathed in the scent of my juices that still clung to all five digits. He inhaled deeply, kissed each fingertip, and drew his tongue up the length of my index finger. "I'll fill up the bathtub. Meet me in five?" There was a lump in my throat. I nodded and watched him leave the room.

The bathroom was warm, humid, it smelled of something nice, of junipers, something he'd put in the water. I took out my cup, rinsed it and put it aside. The water would turn red. Or pink at least.

I heard him come in behind me, heard the door close, felt his arms wrap around me, his naked, cold body pressed against me from behind, his cock against my lower back, his stubbly chin on my shoulder, his cheek against my face. He smelled of himself, of rain and wet soil, a little of make-up remover, a faint residue of his aftershave.

He let go of me and climbed into the tub, letting himself slowly sink beneath the hot water's surface, moaning satisfied with such abandon that it made me smile, almost laugh. Opening his eyes, he looked at me. "Come on in." -- "There'll be blood in the tub." He nodded. "I'll survive that."

I climbed into the water and let myself sink down into his lap and had to close my eyes as the warmth of the water slowly engulfed and relaxed me. His arms came up around me, holding me close to him. My lips found his and he kissed me with such wanton tenderness, it made me want to cry. We made out with a lazy passion that touched something deep inside me. I felt safe, secure, and desired.

My teeth tugged lightly at his lower lip, he moaned, moved his mouth down to my throat und pressed featherlight and heated kisses against it. My head fell back, giving him better access, my hips started rocking back and forth.

I scooted a little further up his legs, his fingers on my ass guiding me closer. He was so gentle with me, so careful not to put too much pressure on my abdomen, so heedful not to hurt.

I started grinding my vulva against his cock, felt his fingers on my ass digging deeper into my flesh, continued grinding, felt him slowly growing hard, our mouths and tongues playing, our chests pressed flush together, a low rumble running through his body, his hands trailing over my back, holding my head to deepen the kiss, wandering back down to my butt. I lifted myself a little, took his piece of wood, pumped my hand over his shaft, once, twice, drank in his breathy moans, aligned his cock with my opening and slowly sank down on him, lifting again, sinking down a little further.

This worked. The pressure was a lot, more than usual, but not unpleasant. He held me close to him, eyes closed, kissing me needily.

This was so exactly what I'd wanted, what I'd craved, I felt hot tears running down my face. He drew back a little, one hand on my cheek, a look of concern on his face. "Are you okay?" I nodded. "I love this," I whispered through the salt. He dragged his thumb through the trail of tears on my cheek and then bent forward to kiss me deeply.

I started carefully moving, rocking my hips back and forth. We moaned into our kiss. This felt so good. So good. So safe. So hot. So fucking good. I didn't care if I'd come or not. I just wanted to do this for as long as possible. I held on to him tightly, let my fingers run through his hair, down his rough cheeks, flattened my palm against his chest, running it up to his neck, tracing a pulsing vein, holding him to me, as I kept grinding and circling.

Tentatively, he started bucking his hips up into mine. A slow rhythm. And something started building inside me. Growing slowly, fed by every movement, every kiss, every moan of his, every groan, every ragged breath.

His eyes had flickered closed, his face creased with the effort, his mouth open, sucking in air. I closed my eyes to focus solely on the feeling of him throbbing, moving inside me, on his fingers digging into me, on the sounds escaping him. I was a moaning mess myself -- a few more strokes and I'd get there.

He picked up the rhythm a little, he was holding back, he was close. Clenched teeth, sweat running down his temples, open-mouthed breaths, some swearing. And then he came, a few erratic last pumps, a rumbling groan, his fingers deeply buried in my flesh.

Seeing him crash brought me closer to the edge, I was so freakishly close, I lost all self-control and, frantically making use of the last moments of hardness, started grinding wildly down on him. Just a few seconds and the buildup bloomed into an all-engulfing, warm orgasm, my head thrown back in a throaty moan as I rode out its waves, my body convulsing.

He slipped out of me and, as I opened my eyes, I saw that the water had indeed turned a shade of pink. Between our bellies twirled a streak of fresh blood. I looked into his face. It carried a smile, satisfied but also incredibly exhausted.

"Bed?", I asked, and he nodded.