My lover's name is Mary. We met like most couples, when fate sneezed and we weren't looking. She came to me when I least wanted her to, and now I don't get through an entire without her face burgeoning into my fantasies; my fantasies of being ravaged while reading the morning paper, my fantasies of a life with children and house, my fantasies of growing old with someone else to look at my wrinkles and fallen breasts.
Mary is a big woman. She is nearly six feet tall and as round as a barrel. When we play sex games I am the one to top. When we fuck, she is on top of me. She opens my legs with her sausage fingers, presses the strap-on inside of me, putting my hands above my head as I scratch the nails she insists I keep long down her back. She fucks me until I don't move anymore, until I stop screaming, until I am exhausted by her. She allows herself to come then. Then she straddles my sexed body and lays her beautiful face between my breasts, which by then, have stopped heaving up and down. We sleep with our pussies rubbing together, mutually wet hair reminds of love play. This is how our lovemaking goes.
We do everything together now. We work in the same small building, make the commute together. We eat together, eat each other together, see films, go out for drinks… together. And of course we menstruate together. Our cycles began to match up within a month of knowing each other. I think this is the most incredibly thing that women as a whole can do. We declare our womanhood and bleed red unimpregnated blood together once every month.
My lover is kinky. She ties me up, spanks my ass, fingers me with various found objects while we watch some non-sexual movie. She dresses me up in a little girl's outfits, she tells me to call her Mommy, my naughty Mommy. I do of course. I do whatever she wants me to do. I trust her. I get off when she controls me, and she does it so well.
Last month we were both incredibly horny and we were both on the rag. Sometimes we use a double headed dildo that we wash directly afterwards. But most of the time we just know we have to wait it out and at the end of our five-day sentence we can once again come with each other. The wait is always long and difficult, we have made it now eight times.
I went to the bathroom after supper. Artichoke hearts over pasta. We both crave pasta during our periods. Mary follows me into the bathroom. She has a new hair coming in in the mole on her right arm that she needs to pluck. She reaches into the cabinet for tweezers and I pull my skirt up to change my tampon. It is the first day of our periods. The blood is thick, red, heavy. There are large pieces that stream out of us as we urinate. Our futile uteruses coughing out last month's biology.
I drop my panties to the floor and lift my leg to the toilet seat. Mary is putting away the tweezers and tells me to freeze. I do.
"Can I change it?" She points to my tampon string.
"Sure, I don't care," I say.
She takes hold of the string and wraps her fingers around my waist. She pulls until it falls out, it hits my leg, leaves a trail of blood behind. She dangles it for a moment before letting it fall into the toilet. Her fingers are covered in blood.
"Mommy, will you show me how to put in a new one?" I ask in my fake little girl voice. I know this will turn her on.
She softly slaps my ass in reply. I can tell I have a bloody hand print on my ass. The cool air on the hot blood makes my nipples contract, get hard under my sweater and bra. I hear her unwrapping the next tampon, tossing the packaging into the trash. We buy the kind of tampon that requires no applicator. They are easy to carry around, carry to the bathroom without a fuss. They are better for the environment and you get a finger job every time you push one in.
