Ashley Getting Bigger Ch 06

"You want to WHAT?!" I asked.

He was grinning, that weird grin that meant he had something special in mind. I felt a tingle because I knew his specials always brought me to new places. And by new places, I mean orgasms that would make my toes curl and my hair fall out. Well, okay, not really. I have good hair but you get the idea.

What he called our Dirty Dancing Date Nights were fairly regular now. He would set up the garage, make a gourmet meal, and we would dine and dance, letting the laxatives and emetics do their work. There was still something delightfully, well, "naughty" about Dirty Dates. I think it was the specialness (if it's not a word, it should be) of being all dressed up that got to me.

But this was new.

"I want to have a Dirty Double Date," he said.

"I've been talking to some of the folks at

The Cow Barn

and they think what we have is special," he went on. "You know, being able to just let go the way we do."

He let me think about that for a few minutes before he went on after I said nothing.

"So I'd like to have a Dirty Double Date," he said, the capitalization obvious with the way he enunciated the words, "and ultimately a Dirty Dinner Party."

"I'm not cleaning up the mess," I said.

He laughed at that and kissed me quickly. "Of course not," he said, "I'll take care of it.

Nothing happened for almost a month.

Well, that's not at all true. A lot happened, but there was no more talk about a Dirty Double Date or a Dirty Dinner Party.

He exercised me regularly and I was down to 485 and I could walk a full mile in a half hour without him needing to switch me although I would need a quart of

GatorAde

afterwards.

There was a new kink though, one I found surprising and delightfully intimate.

One morning, after my morning workout, tired, sweaty, and still trying to get my breathing under control I felt that twinge deep in my belly. I went to the bathroom, peed, and sure enough, when I wiped the pad came back showing a little blood.

Aunt Flo, as my granny used to call it, had arrived.

I leaned forward and pulled a tampon out of the little cabinet by the toilet, peeled the paper wrapper, and slipped it in.

My periods aren't a big deal for me. That little twinge when it started. Then a day of very heavy flow, two days of spotting, and done. Easy. I felt nothing but pity for my friends who would spend a couple of days flat on their backs with cramps and assorted pains.

So I finished, wiped one more time, stood, flushed, and washed my hands.

In the kitchen, where he was making our lunch of a ridiculously healthy smoothie, I eased up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, snuggling against his back, and whispered, "The red flag is flying."

We both enjoy period sex, and I wanted to let him know. I figured we'd have lunch and then an afternoon delight.

He didn't disappoint. He filled one of our oversize plastic travel glasses with the pinkish liquid and then led me by the hand to the bedroom.

"I should shower," I said as he was peeling the tight T-shirt off of me.

He grinned, kissed me, and said, "I'll bathe you later."

"God I love you," I said, giggling as I sat on the edge of the bed while he got my shoes and socks off of me and then peeled off my panties, damp with sweat.

He helped me onto the bed so I was reclined against three pillows and then undressed, making it a sweet strip tease, before he crawled in and started feeding me.

I've loved being fed ever since that first time, and this afternoon he didn't disappoint. He popped the top off of the travel cup and spooned the first bite of my lunch into my mouth. As I savored the flavor he brushed hairs away from my forehead, probably imaginary hairs I thought, and told me I was beautiful. Even after hearing it so often since he had me stop dieting I still got a tingle at the word.

I do need nourishment, and the smoothie met that need so I didn't need to purge.

He fed me, one spoonful at a time, carefully wiping my chin afterwards until the smoothie was done.

When he started covering my face with kisses I relaxed. I know he likes doing the work and, candidly, I love laying there like I'm asleep until he gets me to the point I just can't hold still any more.

He kissed my chins and my shoulders, making me giggle when I felt him sucking, leaving a hickey on the soft skin where my shoulder merged into my armpit. He suckled and played with my breasts and then with the rolls of my belly. I squealed as he dug his finger into my belly button. Well, as he dug four fingers into the deep crease that is my belly button.

When he pushed my belly apron up, out of the way, and started leaning forward I reached down and grabbed his hair.

He looked up, that happy smile on his face that made me think of a kid at Christmas.

"Baby," I said, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Because what he was going to do was obvious.

He licked his lips, smiled, and said, simply, "Everything."

"Oh God," I moaned, but I released his hair and laid back on my pillows, watching him disappear under my belly apron.

This was a new level of intimacy, something I had never imagined.

And God help me, I

WANTED

it.

For those of you of the male persuasion, when I'm having my period it's not just that I'm bleeding, like if I had cut myself inside somehow. The menstrual discharge is a thick, rich mixture of blood, vaginal fluids, and the endometrial secretions that had been preparing to support a baby as it developed. It's rich in hormones and pheromones. Yes, I've looked when I wiped. Every woman has.

Besides that, there are hormones involved in menstruation. I've had friends who said "period sex" was the best. I never felt quite that much, but I always did enjoy it.

But this was different. There had always been that sort of, well, "ickiness" about my period. I was always anxious to wash him afterwards and tasting a cock after that had never entered my mind.

But this was different. I felt his tongue teasing me, licking my labia and mons and those sensitive areas of my chub rub.

But this was different. I could feel that pressure, deep in my belly, as sexual arousal built around the way I always felt a little bloated when Aunt Flo was in town.

But this was different. It was like every erogenous zone was responding to what he was doing. My nipples ached they were so hard. My armpits tingled, that spot behind my knees twitched, and that special spot at the base of my spine felt like little electric shocks were hitting it.

I felt his tongue toying with the string of the tampon and my legs parted even farther, an automatic reaction I don't think I could have stopped.

I closed my eyes, picturing what he was doing. I could see his tongue, playing with the string, and feel as the string rubbed against tender skin. I could see his teeth, clamping down on the string and starting to pull it.

I couldn't breathe.

He tugged the string until I could feel the little pressure as it started to emerge.

I gasped when I felt him release the string and then take the end of the tampon in his teeth.

I almost came as I felt him pull it free and then look up at me, the bloody tube dripping.

He took the end in his fingers, opened his mouth, and then caught the string with his other hand and held it over his mouth for seconds, posing, before slowly lowering it and catching it in his lips, sucking like a Popsicle.

He grinned and leaned forward, holding the tampon by the strong.

"Taste?" he said.

"Oh God," I said.

"Open up," he said, and I opened my mouth.

The taste was different. I felt a quick roll of my stomach but that passed. I could taste blood and mucus of course. But there was a different taste as well, thick and rich and, on levels I don't claim to understand, delicious.

I liked it, and liked that he left it in my mouth as he started kissing his way back down my body, leaving a faint red trail as he did.

The oral sex he gave me that day was absolutely spectacular. He didn't try to make it linger this morning. He just used his tongue, quickly finding those places in those ways he knew got to me so powerfully. When I came the first time I giggled at the quick thought -

we'll need new sheets

- and felt myself running down the crack of my ass.

The taste in my mouth added to the sensation and I was surprised to find myself sucking gently on the tampon.

He took me over the top a half dozen times, each one as powerful as the first, until I was just panting, exhausted, whispering, "No more, baby, let me rest."

When he lifted himself and smiled at me it looked like someone had punched him in the nose and he was bleeding down his upper lip and his chin.

He was grinning widely as he crawled up until he slipped inside of me. God, I was so slick the sensation was just the barest pressure as he entered me.

He kissed me, and when he broke the kiss he caught the string of the tampon, still hanging out of my mouth, and slowly tugged it out. I giggled and held it with my lips although I didn't use my teeth to actually stop him from pulling it out. I could see it as he leaned back, hanging by the string from his mouth, very pale, reminding me of a Popsicle, when I was a kid, that would be mostly white ice, just a hint of purple after I had sucked the goodness out of my favorite flavor, grape.

He released it and it felt warm and wet as it brushed my cheek before coming to rest on the pillow.

I pulled him down to me and I began licking his face, cleaning him like a cat, between the kisses he was so generous with.

There was something so perfectly intimate about this. It was like the last shreds of my modesty, the last tiny piece of any inhibitions I might still have, had been stripped away. It was liberating and when I said, "I love you. I am yours," I meant it on new levels. I realized there was absolutely nothing I would ever refuse David.

Our lovemaking was slow and gentle. His movements were almost slow motion. And I was so sensitive and so exhausted and, of course, the hormones of menstruation were flooding me along with the excitement of plain old arousal, that I just came and came while he told me I was beautiful.

Finally, he came and softened and slipped out, as a man must do.

We rolled onto our sides, sharing a pillow, the tiniest movement becoming a kiss, whispering, "I love you" back and forth for some timeless time before he suddenly raised his legs, kicked into a sit-up, and rolled out of bed.

"Come on, toots," he said, making me giggle as it always did when he used that archaic term, "Let's get you cleaned up and then I'm taking you shopping."

I giggled and said, "You have me too tired to move."

He yanked the covers off and slapped my hip hard enough to draw an "Owww" from me.

"Come on," he said, "Get that big beautiful ass moving."

I managed an "aaauuugggghhhhhhh," but surrendered and did my roll-onto-my-side-gather-my-energy-swing-my-legs-over-the-edge move and got out of bed.

I looked back.

Jesus, it looked like I had been stabbed.

"Come on," he said, taking my hand.

We showered together, taking our time but both too spent to make it sexual. It WAS sensual.

From the shower, he helped me into the tub, about as hot as I could stand it, the hot water trickling in and the water gurgling out of the overflow. With me in it, a bit of water sloshed over the edge of the tub.

"Relax," he said, "I'll be right back."

"Right back" turned into several minutes but I didn't really care. I was relaxed and the hot water soothed that residual ache in my belly.

"Okay, lazy butt, get up," he said, offering me his hand.

I stood, and couldn't help but notice the pink tint to the water as he reached down and pulled the plug.

He dried me, always something he enjoyed. Maybe I'm the only woman in the world who enjoys being handled like a piece of meat, but I kind of doubt it.

Clean and dry he walked me into the bedroom and I saw what he had laid out for us to wear.

For him, it was his wealthy-guy-on-vacation-in-Florida look. A brightly patterned Hawaiin shirt, soft linen pants, and thick flip-flops.

For me, a full top with puffy sleeves that I always thought made my arms look even bigger and softer than they are, white pants that would almost drag the ground, very full and swaying as I moved, and my own bright red flip-flops.

There was no underwear in evidence.

I giggled and said, "Off to the beach?"

"Nah," he said, "But I DO want a watermelon and I think we're out of beer."

"God, I love you," I said, "Get me a tampon honey and we'll go."

He smiled and said, "Nuh-un. I'm showing you off."

My breath caught.

"DAVID!" I said.

"I'm proud of ALL of you," he said, and took the white pants in his hands, dropped to his knees, bunched the material of the legs, and held them out for me to step into.

"God, you ARE crazy," I said.

"About you," he replied, smiling.

I moaned, and stepped into the white slacks.

He worked them up and tied the drawstring, cinching them over the final roll of my belly apron.

Next, he held the flip flops and worked them onto my feet before standing and holding the top up while I got my arms into the armholes and then he smoothed it over me.

"You look terrific, as always," he said, kissed me, and dressed quickly.

"We look like we're off to the beach, you're right," he said as we stood in front of the floor-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door.

I thought we looked pretty good. Even the little spot of red where my legs met seemed, well, "right" somehow.

We drove to the local Piggly Wiggly (the Squirming Hog as he always called it) where he took his time, thumping and rolling watermelons before finally selecting one and then walking to the cooler and putting a case of

Coors

beer into the shopping cart.

On the way out I caught my reflection in the glass door. The red stain on my white pants had spread up until it disappeared under the loose top and down the insides of my thighs almost to my knees.

I was surprised that I wasn't ashamed of the look.

At the car, I said, "Okay, crazy husband-o-mine, you want to show me off? Let's go to the mall. I think there's a new

Reacher

book out so let's go to Barnes and Noble.

"Your wish is my command, bride-o-mine," he said.

I browsed the "thrillers" section and found the latest Lee Child masterpiece.

At the checkout counter, someone mentioned my spreading red stain for the first time since we set out on our excursion.

"Ummmm," she said in that embarrassed way I think every woman has when mentioning to another woman that her period is showing, "Do you need a tampon?"

I giggled and said, "Oh, honey, I've sworn off of them. Natural is, well, natural. You should try it."

Her eyes got big but I wondered if, just maybe, she wouldn't bother with a tampon the next time Aunt Flo visited her.

"You're liking this, aren't you," David said as we headed for the exit, hand in hand.

"I am," I said, giggling, and left it at that.

I didn't change for the rest of the day and by the time we went to bed I stood in front of the mirror and just looked. Jesus, my white pants looked like red pants with a white belt and white decorative stripe down the outside of the legs. They were sodden and ruined and when David moved behind me, put his hands on my hips, nuzzled my neck and said, "God, you are SO beautiful," I believed him.

I have not used a tampon since that day.