He Came Back From a Trip and I Didn’t Wait for My Period to Pass

The week without Lucas felt endless because my body had decided to conspire against my patience. I’d had my period for two days and a desire that knew nothing about calendars, sanitary pads, or common sense. Every time I crossed the empty bedroom I remembered the last Friday before his trip, when he’d promised he was going to make up for lost time as soon as he got off the plane.

We had talked every night by video call. The first two were decent. The next three were the kind of conversations you can’t show the technician later when he comes to fix the phone. Me with my fingers buried in my cunt, showing them to him shining on camera. Him with his hard cock in his hand, stroking it slowly so I could see the tip swell every time I asked him to tell me how he was going to fuck me. The last one, before he caught his return flight, had left me so worked up that I came three times in a row, squeezing the pillow between my thighs, and afterward I had to get up for water and ended up staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, my nipples still hard under my T-shirt, thinking I didn’t recognize myself. My period had started the next day and, far from calming me down, it set me on fire.

I didn’t want to wait for it to pass. That was my first conscious decision of the day.

I put on the red dress. The one he’d given me for my birthday and that I almost never wore because he said it wasn’t for going out, that it was for having him at home. I chose it on purpose. If I stained it, even better. If I met him at the airport wearing that, even worse for him. I tied my hair up and let it down three times before deciding to leave it loose. I put perfume behind my knees, where I knew I’d breathe it in when we were together. Under the dress, nothing. No panties, no bra. Just the snug pad, and the rest of me open to the air, feeling exposed with every step.

I got to Ezeiza forty minutes early. I walked through the terminal feeling how the dress rubbing against my thighs reminded me what was underneath, what had stopped being a problem and was starting to be a promise. A woman looked at my legs with that expression women get when they recognize the method. I sat in a chair in front of the arrivals monitor, crossed my legs, and let time pass, watching the word “landed” appear next to his flight.

When Lucas appeared through the arrivals gate, I saw him before he saw me. He had coffee in one hand, the small suitcase in the other, the wrinkled jacket from the flight. He looked for me like he knew I’d be exactly where I was. When our eyes met, he set the coffee down on the first bench he found and came straight to me.

—You have no idea what you do to me —he said when he got close enough.

—I know perfectly well —I answered—. That’s why I put this on.

He kissed me right there, in the middle of the bustle of passengers and carts. A kiss that wasn’t a welcome but a warning, his tongue deep in my mouth, grabbing the back of my neck like he was afraid I’d slip away. I felt his cock harden against my hip through his pants, and I pressed in a little more so he’d know I was ready too. I left my lipstick printed at the corner of his mouth and didn’t point it out because I liked the idea of him wearing my mark for the rest of the trip home.

—Let’s go? —he said.

—Let’s go.

In the car, while he drove down the highway, I put my hand on his thigh and slowly slid it upward. Not in a hurry, not like a teenager. With the calm of someone who knows she has the whole night ahead of her and then some. Lucas kept his eyes on the road, but his right hand left the gear shift to squeeze mine and leave it where it was. I kept going until I grabbed the hard bulge over the fabric and squeezed it mercilessly. A short moan escaped him and the car made a small correction in the lane.

—Drive —I told him—. If we die now, I swear I’ll kill you again.

I pulled down his zipper. I took it out right there on the Ricchieri, thick, hot, with a clear drop on the tip. I bent over the gearshift and took it into my mouth all the way to the back of my throat. I felt his thigh tense, his hand clench on the steering wheel. I sucked it slowly, licking it from the balls to the tip, playing with my tongue on the frenulum, leaving it shiny with spit.

—I have my period —I told him, lifting my head for a second, his cock in my hand, looking at him from the side—. Just so you know.

Lucas didn’t take his eyes off the road, but I noticed him stiffen.

—And?

—And nothing. Just so you know.

He looked at me for a second, just long enough for him to understand what I was saying and what I wasn’t asking.

—Baby —he said—, I’ve spent seven days thinking about one thing and one thing only. Blood wasn’t part of it, but it doesn’t rule it out either. I’m going to fuck you anyway. I’m going to fuck you every way I can think of. And then I’m going to fuck you again.

I lowered my head again and sucked him without stopping until I felt he was about to come. Then I stopped, tucked him back into his pants without zipping him all the way up, and ran my tongue over his ear.

—Save that for inside me.

I squeezed a little harder over the fabric. I felt what I already knew I was going to feel.

***

We got home after midnight. I went up to the apartment two steps ahead and started lowering the dress zipper as soon as I crossed the threshold. Lucas shut the door with his foot and didn’t wait for me to finish. He shoved me against the entryway wall and kissed me with that intensity he has when he’s gone too many days without sleeping well. He slid his hand between my thighs and yanked the pad away in one pull. He dropped it on the floor without looking where it landed. Then he shoved two fingers into me at once, all the way in, and pulled them out red and shining.

—Look at you —he said, holding them in front of my face.

—Suck them —I answered.

He put them in his mouth without taking his eyes off mine. Then he ran them over my lips, and kissed me again with the taste of my own blood between our tongues.

—Slow —I said, laughing against his mouth—. We have all night.

—No, we don’t —he answered—. We have this whole life.

He carried me to the bedroom by my waist. The lights were off, only the hallway lamp shining in through the half-open door. He dropped me onto the bed, pulled my dress off over my head without unbuttoning anything else, and stood there looking at me with that expression that made me feel like he hadn’t come back from the airport alone. I opened my legs without a trace of shame, showing myself completely, my cunt swollen and dirty, my thighs stained a dark red that ran down to my ass.

—You’re beautiful —he said.

—I’m full of blood —I answered.

—That’s why I’m saying it.

***

What came after I had to reconstruct later because, in the moment, I completely lost my mind.

He took off his shirt, his pants, everything. His cock moved on its own, hard, pointing at me. He lowered himself down my body, kissing me slowly. He sucked my nipples one by one, biting them until I moaned, and kept going down. I grabbed his hair when he reached my ribs and he laughed against my skin. When he got to my navel he lifted his head for a second, looked me in the eyes, and I knew there was no turning back.

—Wait —I told him—. Are you sure?

—My love —he replied—. I’m more sure of this than of any flight this week.

And he went down.

The first time he licked my cunt I felt my whole body turn into one single nerve. He ran his entire tongue over me, from bottom to clit, unhurried, unbothered, learning the taste. The second time, how my modesty went somewhere else. He sucked each lip one by one, parted them with his fingers, and pushed his tongue inside, as deep as he could, pulling it out wet and red. The third time, how he understood something about me I hadn’t understood in thirty-two years: that the body isn’t divided into presentable parts and parts you have to hide. That it was all or nothing. He focused on my clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue, while he slid two fingers into me and moved them inside with a rhythm that made my back arch.

I didn’t recognize myself, and yet I was more myself than ever.

When he lifted his face to breathe, his mouth and beard were painted red, all the way to his chin, all the way to his cheeks. I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I laughed with my head thrown back, with my hands over my eyes, with that laugh that only comes when something overwhelms you.

—You look like a sad clown —I told him.

—You look like a woman who’s about to come —he answered.

And he went back down. This time he drove his tongue into me mercilessly, sucking my clit like he wanted to rip it off, while his fingers went in and out with a wet sound that filled the bedroom. I grabbed his head with both hands and pressed it harder against my cunt, moving his face against me, fucking his mouth with mine.

When I came, I didn’t scream. I lost my voice, which is different. I gripped the bedframe with both hands and felt my body tremble in a new way, felt my cunt contract around his fingers, felt the week’s accumulated blood had been waiting for that exact moment to come out. A hot gush escaped between my legs and he took it all, without moving away, swallowing and licking like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.

***

After that, it was my turn.

I sat on top of him without asking permission. I grabbed his cock with my hand, put it at the entrance to my cunt, and drove it in all at once, all the way to the hilt, feeling it reach places nothing else ever did. Lucas let me. Lucas always lets me when he understands I’m somewhere else, that tonight I’m not going to be the girl I’m embarrassed to be during the day.

I moved slowly at first. Just enough for him to understand the rhythm. I rose until only the tip stayed inside him and dropped down hard, squeezing him between the walls of my cunt. Then faster. I grabbed his hands and put them on my tits so he’d squeeze them, so he’d tug my nipples while I fucked him. Then I stopped thinking. I rode him like my life depended on it, my ass slapping his thighs, my cunt dripping blood and slick all the way down. The veins in his neck stood out when he tried to hold back, and I liked that more than anything else I’d seen that night.

The white sheets we’d put on Sunday started to stain. Every time I rose, I left his cock covered in red, shiny and dirty, and when I came back down I smeared his balls, thighs, and stomach. I didn’t care. Neither did he. I grabbed his face and kissed his stained lips, ran my tongue over his chin, felt the metallic taste of my own body in his mouth and thought, ridiculously, that it was the most intimate thing we had done in four years together.

—Stop —I said suddenly.

He went still, his cock still buried to the balls inside me.

—Turn around —I added.

I made him change positions. Not because I couldn’t take any more, but because I wanted more. I wanted every version of him, every position, every possible shape of the night.

He put me face down, ass up and face against the pillow. I felt him spread my ass cheeks with both hands and stand there looking at me for a long second. Then he ran his tongue over my asshole, slowly, from top to bottom, wetting me. I felt his hot breath there where nobody had ever kissed me like that before. I felt him prepare me with his fingers, one first, then two, taking advantage of what we were already using as natural lubricant, the blood sliding from my cunt to the other hole, wetting everything. Then the tip of his cock. He pushed slowly, entering little by little, letting me breathe between thrusts.

—Tell me if you need to —he said.

—I’m fine —I answered—. I’m more than fine. Put it all in.

He pushed all the way in. He dug his hands into my hips and started fucking my ass with a slow rhythm at first, then harder, until my ass cheeks were slapping against his pelvis. I shoved two fingers into my cunt while he kept pushing into me from behind, and felt the two things meeting inside me, the whole body becoming one full hollow. I pressed my face into the pillow and grabbed the bedframe again, biting the fabric so I wouldn’t scream loud enough to wake the building.

It wasn’t the strongest orgasm of the night, but it was the strangest. Something between pain and surrender. Lucas finished inside me, his hand clamped on my hip, driving himself in with a long growl. I felt the hot cum filling my ass, and he stayed like that for half a minute, breathing against my neck, not pulling out, letting his cock keep throbbing inside me until the last drop. When he finally came out, I felt a thick thread running down between my thighs, mixed with blood.

—I love you —he told me softly.

—I know —I answered—. Me too.

***

I thought that was it. That with that I had already gotten rid of everything I’d been holding in. I was wrong.

Ten minutes later, while Lucas was lying on his back with his arm outstretched and I rested my head on his chest, I felt desire come back. Different. Not the wild desire from before, but something deeper. Older. I reached for his cock with my hand, still soft, sticky, and started stroking it slowly.

—Lucas.

—Mm.

—Again.

He laughed softly.

—Baby, I’m human.

—Again —I repeated—. But on top.

He looked at me with that face he makes when he understands something without needing it explained. I slid down the bed and took his cock into my mouth. I sucked him completely, slowly, unhurried, until I felt him hardening again between my lips. I ran my tongue over his balls, kissed them one by one, took them whole into my mouth, and when I came back up to the tip he was hard again already, throbbing against my palate.

—Missionary? —he said in a hoarse voice.

—Missionary.

He settled over me slowly. I spread my legs and took him. He pushed all of himself in at once, and I felt his cock all the way to my stomach. This time there was no rush. This time there was no pose. We were both covered in blood, sweat, and whatever the other thing was, and all I wanted was to look him in the eyes while he moved inside me.

—Hold still for a second —I asked.

He did, his cock buried to the hilt, throbbing inside me.

I ran my hand over his cheek, over his stained chin, over his neck. I looked at him with the hallway light hitting him from the side. I remembered the first time we’d had sex, in a borrowed apartment, afraid the owners would come back. I remembered the first time he’d told me he loved me, on a trip to the coast. I remembered all the times I’d thought about leaving him and all the times I’d decided not to.

—Move —I told him.

He started moving. Slowly. Deeply. Pulling almost all the way out and pushing back in to the hilt, with a long rhythm that made me feel every centimeter. I dug my nails into his back, not to mark him but to hold myself up. I hooked my legs around him from behind and pulled him against me so he’d never come out. When he sped up, when our bodies started slapping against each other with that wet, filthy sound two people make when they fuck without filters, I came crying. Not from sadness, not exactly. From something that had no name and that I don’t want to give one to now either. My cunt clamped around his cock and he finished a little later, inside me again, emptying himself with a tremor that ran all the way down his back.

He collapsed on top of me and I held him up.

—You’re a mess —I told him after a while.

—So are you.

—The sheets are beyond saving.

—We’ll throw them out.

We stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, listening to the noises in the building, the hum of the air conditioner, some distant car. I ran my hand through his hair and realized I didn’t care about a single thing anyone in the world might think about us.

—Lucas.

—Yeah?

—Next time you travel, don’t stay away so many days.

—I’m never going away again.

—Liar.

—Liar —he admitted.

I laughed against his chest. We closed our eyes at the same time. Outside, Buenos Aires kept doing what it always does. Inside, two stained bodies fell asleep on a field of ruined sheets, not knowing that what they had lived through that night would be, a long time later, one of those confessions people tell in a low voice, laughing, looking away, when someone asks what your most you night was.