Periods are usually terrible times. I don’t even get them, but after 13 years of living with my wife Rachel, I’ve learned to stockpile chocolate, ice cream, and Advil on a monthly basis.
On the first day begin the complaints about bloat and constipation.
On the second day the trusty painkillers are needed for the cramps before even getting out of bed.
On the third day, the hormones start kicking in… and there’s kind of a bright side?
I’m not sure how it works with other women, but for whatever reason the first hormone pill on her cycle has always made my wife extremely horny. Something clicks inside and suddenly she can’t keep her hands off of me – and apparently, orgasms help with the cramps.
In the spring of ’09, like clockwork, I would be late to my orchestra rehearsals every fourth week. This was because class ended at 6, orchestra warmed up at 7:15, and in between Rebecca would throw herself at me until she had my cum in her mouth. I can’t really cum from blowjobs easily and usually her intense, focused style makes me want to pull her up by the hair and start fucking her within a minute or two. But Rachel took full advantage of her relatively messy state down below to reverse the power dynamic. With my weak protestations falling on deaf ears and a wicked grin on her face, she always managed to make me do a hasty weak-kneed shuffle back to campus.
I still remember her characteristic triumphant look and the exaggerated swallowing motion she would always show me as I ran out the door – evidently looking forward to when I’d come back from rehearsal to spank and finger her into a quivering mess.
That was just the beginning.
With equal parts willingness to fuck and poor time estimation, we ended up making a lot of messes and doing a lot of laundry. Yes, there’s always some variation; no, day 4 still means you’ll probably need to break out the bleach. But as scientists-in-training, we both needed to repeat the experiment to determine statistical significance. Or that’s what we told ourselves.
We tried the porn cliche of shower sex, but let’s be honest: water might be a near-Newtonian fluid, but traveling up that stress-shear curve gets old fast. Then again, a quick rinse and there’s no problems pushing her up against the wall by her crotch and showing her just how long a veteran clarinettist can practice articulation. I may not have trained to go pro, but let’s just say I regularly had my audience swooning.
We were into bondage from the beginning, but certain Japanese rope harnesses were a remarkable discovery. An eye hook on the roof joist here and a crotch rope there, and you had a setup capable of keeping Rachel in heat for hours through her clothes, desperately grinding her hips while otherwise tied to the bed. And did I mention she cums easily? One memorable night after I got her a Hitachi for her birthday, she came back to awareness fully clothed, lying on ripped and tangled sheets, her pad soaking through her pants, with police on the way for a domestic violence check. I guess hearing her orgasm 21 times in a row gave the neighbors the wrong idea.
The cops who took her into the next room to be questioned walked in giving me some serious stink-eye over her hoarse voice and wrist ligature marks and walked out with a vague air of stunned disquiet after she showed them our rope setup and our matching engagement rings. That mess, at least, is one that we managed to dodge!
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/v8o575/mf_the_many_different_ways_to_make_a_mess_on_her