Red Weekend

(Warning: This is a graphic story about menstruation and menstrual sex.)

The band was setting up for the evening's entertainment as Michelle returned with our drinks. As she crossed the room, a woman who had been standing beside her at the hotel's bar walked over and touched Michelle on the shoulder. She stood close to her, almost whispering in my girlfriend's ear. When Michelle reached our table, she had a slight frown on her face. Before I could ask why, she put the drinks down and said, "I'm just going to the toilet. Back in a sec."

When she returned a few minutes later, she said, "I need to go to up to the room. I have to change my skirt."

I wondered what could be so urgent, but before I could say anything, Michelle headed for the lifts. As I followed, I could see a spot, about the size of a twenty-cent coin, on the back of her short, white skirt.

No one else was waiting in the foyer, and as the lift doors closed, she said, "Looks like I've got my period."

"I didn't know you were due this weekend," I said.

"I sort of planned to skip it," Michelle confessed, after a moment's silence. "Seeing we were going to the beach for the weekend."

"How?" I asked.

"The usual way - I didn't take the inactive contraceptive pills. I just went straight on to a new pack."

"I think the problem is I skipped last month too. That was Lisa's wedding, and I got my bikini line done on the Friday. Skipping too often doesn't always work."

It occurred to me that beauticians probably saw much worse things than a tampon string, but I decided to keep that thought to myself.

"You didn't know until that woman spoke to you?" I asked, realizing immediately the foolishness of the question.

"I felt a bit of wetness. But seeing we had sex before dinner, I just thought I was leaking a little into my panties."

Michelle had her dress off even before I'd closed the door to the room. There was only a small spot on her panties, but like the dress, the material was thin, allowing the blood to soak through. Michelle, in her bra and panties, rummaged through her handbag and the pockets of her suitcase, retrieving a number of tampons. Some of them looked as though they had been in there for ages.

"What are you looking for?" I asked.

In a mildly frustrated voice, Michelle said, "Pads! I normally use pads overnight. I can't believe I don't have any in my bag."

Hesitantly, because I didn't know how the suggestion would be received, I said, "There's a 7-Eleven store across the road. If you like, I could duck over there for you."

There was a moment's silence while Michelle considered my offer.

"You're really offering to go over the road and buy me some pads?" she asked, amused and slightly incredulous.

Her tone suggested I was the first man in history to ever make such an offer. "Didn't your Dad ever buy tampons or pads when he did the weekly shopping?" I countered, a little defensively.

Michelle's mother had died when Michelle was only five years old. Her father had bought her and her sister up on his own. According to Michelle, hitting puberty had resulted in a number of embarrassing father/daughter moments.

"Yeah, I guess he did, occasionally" she conceded. "And I suppose it would save me having to get dressed again."

In a more matter of fact tone, she said, "Can you get me overnights with wings if they have them."

From spending my university holidays working in convenience stores, I knew that tampons, pads and condoms were three items every store stocked. They were usually grouped together, and because condoms were often stolen, they were likely to be at the front of the store. Sure enough, as I entered the store, I spied what I wanted on a shelf close to the cash register. I hung back for a moment, waiting for a woman who seemed to be having trouble deciding what to buy. When I wandered down the sanitary product isle of my supermarket, it surprised me how often I saw women eyeing the products uncertainly. I'd always thought women just bought the same brand every month.

Having seen the inside of Michelle's bathroom cupboard, I knew what she used. I took a packet of "Libra Goodnites" from the shelf and on the way to the checkout, I detoured to pick up some "comfort" food - a block of her favourite chocolate.

When I got back, Michelle was lying on the bed, watching the tele, naked. As I flopped down next to her, I could see the green string trailing from the lips of her vagina. Perhaps self-consciously, she crossed her legs, hiding it from my view. Her dress and panties were draped over the back of a chair, wet marks where the stains had been. As I'd hoped, the offering of chocolate cheered her up considerably.

After we had eaten most of the chocolate, Michelle took a pad from the packet, a clean pair of panties from her suitcase, and headed for the bathroom. When she returned, I could see the outline of the pad through her panties.

I had to take a leak, and when I came out of the bathroom, Michelle was in bed, half under the covers. Because we didn't live together, sex was a big part of our weekends away. Our lust had lead to some interesting experiences. One night, when we stayed with Michelle's sister and husband at their holiday house, we did it very quietly, while we listened to the sounds of them screwing in the next bedroom. Keeping a straight face at the breakfast table next morning had been difficult! Another time we had done the deed at night in the women's toilets at a camping ground, as other women used the adjoining cubicles.

I jumped into bed beside her and we cuddled up together. I started to play with her boobs, teasing her nipples with my fingers, knowing it would arouse her. Then I slid my hand down between her legs, running my finger along her slit, through the pad.

I'd never told Michelle about my menstrual sex fetish and I wasn't planning to. How do you tell a woman you love something they probably hate? I was well aware that even in the anonymity of cyber-space, my fetish had few adherents, and almost none of them were women.

I could feel my heart thumping in my chest. In the four months we had been together, this was my first opportunity to have period sex with Michelle.

I was encouraged that Michelle hadn't removed my hand. Kissing her neck and rubbing my semi-erect dick against her leg, I whispered in her ear, "Do you want to play some more?"

I was a little surprised by the directness of the reply.

"I'm bleeding a fair bit. You don't really want to do it tonight do you?"

Rather than answering, I continued to play with her pad through her panties, pressing it against her pussy.

"Anyway, we'll get blood all over the sheets," she said, without much conviction, I thought.

"I've got an old towel in my bag that we can put down on the bed," I replied.

Despite her words, Michelle responded to my touch. I could feel the heat between her thighs as she squeezed them together, imprisoning my hand. I could see the goosebumps on her breast and the hardness of her right nipple. She let out a little sigh as I began to suck on it.

"I am horny, really horny," she admitted, reaching back to play with me.

Before she could change her mind, I jumped out of bed and got the towel from my bag. I doubled it over and placed it under Michelle's hips.

Michelle removed her panties and arranged them carefully on the bedside table with the already stained pad face up.

As a result of my fingering, her vaginal lips were swollen and puffy. I wondered what she smelt like – no - what she tasted like, but I didn't want to push my luck.

Instead, I lay between her legs, alternately kissing her lips and licking and sucking her nipples. At the same time, I teased her slit, rubbing it with the head of my dick. I wondered if she had noticed the size and hardness of my erection.

Michelle shifted slightly uncomfortably beneath me. "You're going to get blood on you. We should use a condom."

We hadn't used condoms for ages. "I didn't bring any with me," I replied. To make my intentions clear, I pushed my hips forward so that I penetrated her as I spoke.

Michelle let out a quiet groan as I entered her.

I lay on top of her, still for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of being inside her. The smell of her bodyspray filled my nostrils, as I kissed her, my tongue in her mouth. I'd slid inside her easily and her pussy felt hotter and wetter than usual.

I struggled with conflicting desires. I wanted to fuck her hard, but I also wanted to make it last. Undecided, I moved in and out of her slowly, doing just enough to maintain my hardness.

"Can I get on top?" Michelle asked, after a few minutes, clearly frustrated by my lack of urgency.

On top was her favourite position, and I had to admit I loved having her on top too. I liked being able to see the expression on her face as, nearing orgasm, she rode me frantically, caring about nothing except cumming. It was also the easiest position for me to get my hands on her ample boobs. Often she leant forward, so I could lick and suck them while I was inside her.

As we changed places, Michelle put a hand between her legs, removing it as she straddled me. There were a couple of drops of blood on her fingers, which she wiped off with a tissue from the box on the bedside table. I could see dark, red blood smeared around her lips and the tops of her thighs. When I looked down, I saw there was even more blood on my dick. With a slight grimace, Michelle held my dick gingerly between her forefinger and thumb, guiding me back into her.

"It's better not to look," she said.

Now that Michelle was in control, she stepped up the pace, and I knew there was no hope I'd last much longer. So I was surprised when we came, almost together, a minute or two later. Instead of collapsing on my chest for our usual post-coital cuddle, Michelle wasted no time heading for the bathroom, her panties in one hand and the other hand again between her thighs.

As I lay on the bed, I could hear Michelle peeing strongly and noisily into the toilet. Then I heard the toilet roll spinning and paper being torn from the roll. Five minutes or so passed before the toilet was flushed and Michelle, now wearing her panties reappeared in the doorway. Five minutes in the toilet was an eternity for Michelle. No doubt, I thought smiling to myself, a fair bit of cleaning up had been required.

"How did you manage to cum so much?" Michelle asked, sounding genuinely surprised, as she joined me in bed. "You should have seen how much ran out of me into the toilet. And it's the second time you've cum in a couple of hours!"

I only realised when I went to the toilet that I needed a serious clean up too. My pubic hair was stuck down and matted with a mixture of Michelle's juices and blood. I decided the best way to deal with the problem was a quick shower. I jumped into the shower and took the nozzle down off the wall so I could direct the stream of water more precisely. As the water began to flow, I was surprised to see the white tiles on the floor of the shower turned almost red. There really was a lot of blood.

When I opened the bathroom door, the room was in darkness. I found my way to the bed, hopping under the sheet.

"Can you rub my tummy, please?" Michelle asked, sounding rather sleepy. I cuddled her from behind as I did so, deliberately placed my dick between her thighs. We talked as I massaged her tummy. Quite soon, I realised I was talking to myself.

I wondered if Michelle would be disgusted if she knew that Kate, my previous girlfriend would call me into the bathroom so that I could watch her change her pads and tampons? Occasionally, she had even let me change them for her. We had sex every day of her period, and the heavier her flow, the more we enjoyed it. Even after tonight, I certainly couldn't imagine Michelle sucking my bloodied dick or encouraging me to go down on her as she sat on the toilet, drops of her blood running down the porcelain.

I lay awake listening to Michelle's soft, rhythmical breathing. If anyone had been able to see my face at that moment, they would have seen I was smiling.

I was thinking about how we might fill in the time until our late check out tomorrow morning.