Wife's Period Ass Play - Her Third Anal

Rochelle lay on her side in the warm dark, twenty-eight and unable to keep still, the comforter shoved down to her waist. Her period had started two days ago, and instead of flattening her the way it sometimes did, it had left her swollen and greedy. Every shift of her thighs dragged cotton across her clit and made her breath catch. The pad in her panties was damp from more than blood. She had been trying not to squirm while Quentin finished a client spreadsheet on his phone, blue light cutting across his jaw.

He was thirty-one, an accountant who still brought numbers home on weeknights, steady through the shoulders, careful with his hands in a way that had always undone her. He set the phone on the nightstand, pulled off his reading glasses, and rolled toward her. His palm settled on her hip, warm and sure.

"You've been moving like the sheets are on fire," he said. "Cramps?"

"No." The word came out thin. Heat climbed her throat. She had given him her ass twice before, both times with too much lube and her voice going high when he pushed past that tight ring. Those nights still lived under her skin. Tonight her pussy was off-limits the way she wanted it on heavy days, pad staying put, nothing going in there, and the denial had sharpened into a craving she could not shake. She wanted her clit rubbed until she shook. She wanted his fingers at her asshole. She wanted, if she could say it without hiding, his cock in the only place she was ready to give him.

She made herself meet his eyes. "I'm horny. Stupid horny. I don't want you in my pussy. I'm on my period and the pad stays. But I've been lying here thinking about my ass." Her cheeks burned. "It's only the third time I'd let you fuck me there, and I'm nervous, Quentin. I still get tight. I still need you slow. But I want it. I want you to play with my clit and my asshole until I'm begging, and then I want your cock in my ass."

His hand tightened. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm saying yes. If you want that."

"I want it." He kissed her once, firm and unhurried, then reached for the drawer. The bottle of lube clicked against the wood. "You tell me the second it's too much. We stop. No arguing."

"I know." She was already opening her thighs under the sheet, already wetter than the pad could hide. "Don't stop unless I say so."

Quentin pushed the comforter off and hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties. He eased them down just far enough to bare her, careful with the pad, leaving it snug against her pussy the way she had asked. Cool air hit the wet heat between her legs. She shivered and spread for him anyway, one knee bent, ass tipped toward his hand. He did not rush. He slicked two fingers with lube first, then set his dry hand between her thighs and found her clit through the soaked pad, rubbing slow circles over the swollen bud.

The friction was filthy and perfect. Cotton dragged, damp and warm, and her clit jumped under it. Rochelle moaned into the pillow, hips rocking before she meant to. "God. Right there. Don't lift the pad. Just rub me."

"I've got you." His voice had gone rough. He kept the circles steady, pressure building, thumb working the pad against her until her thighs trembled. She could feel how swollen she was, how every pass made her clench around nothing. The ache in her ass got louder with it. She reached back, found his wrist, and guided his other hand lower, past the curve of her cheek.

"There," she whispered. "Please. I'm ready for your finger."

He circled her tight hole with a lubed fingertip, not pushing yet, just painting slick heat around the rim. The contrast made her gasp. Clit throbbing under cotton, asshole fluttering under that slow, slippery touch. She rocked back against his hand, chasing it, shy voice gone. "Inside. Put it in. I want to feel it."

Quentin pressed. The muscle resisted, then gave, and one thick finger slid into her ass to the first knuckle. She cried out, not from pain, from the sudden filthy fullness, and pushed back until he was buried to the knuckle and then past it. He held still, letting her adjust, still rubbing her clit through the pad in those relentless circles.

"Tight," he said. "So fucking tight. Breathe."

She breathed and bore down and took him deeper. He worked the finger in and out, slow, adding more lube until the drag turned smooth and obscene. A second finger teased the rim. She nodded hard, hair stuck to her cheek. "Yes. Stretch me. I want to be open for your cock."

He eased the second finger in beside the first. The stretch burned sweet and wide. Rochelle moaned loud enough to shock herself, rocking onto his hand, fucking herself on his fingers while he rubbed her clit harder through the wet pad. Her asshole gripped and fluttered. She could hear the slick sound of it, could feel lube sliding down toward the pad, and she did not care. The shyness had burned off. She was panting, pushing, begging with her whole body.

"More," she said. "Quentin, I'm done waiting. I need your cock. I need you to fuck my ass. Third time and I still want it so bad I can't think. Get behind me. Now."

He pulled his fingers free slow, and the empty clench made her whine. "On your knees," he said. "Ass up. I'll go as slow as you need, but I'm not stopping until you tell me."

"I won't tell you to stop." She was already moving.

Rochelle got on all fours in the middle of the bed, panties still tangled at her thighs, pad pressed to her pussy, ass raised and offered. She dropped to her elbows and reached back to spread herself, shameless now, hole shiny with lube and still tight from only two times before. Quentin knelt behind her. She heard the bottle again, heard the wet sound of him coating his cock, thick and heavy, the same cock that had stretched her twice and left her walking careful the next morning. Her stomach flipped with nerves and want.

"Look at you," he said, one hand on her hip, the head of his cock nudging her rim. "Offering me this ass on your period. Pad staying put like a good wife while you beg for the other hole."

"Then take it." Her voice shook. "Slow. Inch by inch. I want to feel every bit."

He pushed. The broad head kissed her asshole and the muscle fought him, a bright stubborn burn. Rochelle dropped her forehead to the mattress and breathed out, bearing down the way she had learned, and the head popped through. She yelped, fingers twisting in the sheet, the stretch huge and immediate. He stopped there, just the tip inside, throbbing, letting her flutter and adjust around the widest part.

"Okay?" he asked, low.

"Yes. Don't pull out. More. Give me more."

He fed her another inch. Then another. Lube made the slide possible, but she was inexperienced enough that every fraction felt enormous, her rim gripping the thick shaft, her ass learning him all over again. He kept one hand on her hip and slid the other under her, finding her clit through the soaked pad, circling while he pressed deeper. The combination wrecked her. Pleasure sparked under the cotton at the same time her ass was forced open, and she moaned, loud and broken, pushing back to take him.

"Halfway," he said, voice strained. "Fuck, Rochelle. You're squeezing me like you want to keep me."

"I do." She rocked, small desperate motions, working herself onto the rest of him. "All of it. I want your whole cock in my ass. Fill me up."

He sank the last inches slow, a long relentless push, until his hips met her ass and she was stuffed full, rim stretched tight around the base, clit throbbing under his fingers. She stayed there a moment, shaking, stuffed, the fullness so deep she could barely breathe around it. Only her third time, and it still felt like too much and exactly enough. She clenched on purpose and heard him groan.

"Move," she begged. "Fuck me. Slow and deep. Don't stop rubbing my clit."

Quentin drew back until the head tugged at her rim, then pushed in again, a long smooth stroke that made her toes curl. He set a steady rhythm, not fast, deep enough that each thrust seated him completely, his balls tapping the pad, his fingers never leaving her swollen clit. The wet sound of lube and skin filled the room. Rochelle pushed back to meet him, ass swallowing his cock, moaning every time he bottomed out. The burn had melted into a heavy, filthy pleasure that rolled up her spine. Her pussy ached, ignored and throbbing behind the pad, and that denial made the anal fucking sharper, dirtier, better.

"Harder on my clit," she gasped. "I'm close. God, your cock is so thick. I can feel every inch in my ass."

He rubbed faster, circles tight and mean through the soaked cotton, and fucked her a little deeper, still controlled, still giving her the slow grind she had begged for. Each stroke dragged over that sensitive inner stretch and shoved her forward into his fingers. She was loud now, no shame left, chanting yes and more and don't stop, ass slapping softly against his hips, hole gripping him on every withdrawal like it hated to let go.

"This ass is mine tonight," he said against her shoulder. "Third time and you're taking me like you were made for it. Push back. Take every inch."

She did. She fucked herself onto his cock, greedy, inexperienced muscles fluttering and learning, the pad rubbing her clit in time with his hand whenever she rocked. Sweat slid down her spine. Her arms shook. The orgasm built low and mean, fed by the relentless circles on her clit and the thick cock packing her ass, nowhere to hide from either. She could feel herself getting sloppy with lube, rim soft and open, taking him easier and still so full she wanted to sob.

"Quentin—I'm gonna come. Don't pull out. Fuck my ass while I come. Stay deep."

He groaned and drove in, slow and thorough, grinding there, fingers working her clit in fast slick circles through the pad. Rochelle broke. The climax hit hard, a full-body clench that locked around his cock and tore a raw cry out of her. Her asshole spasmed, milking him, hips jerking, clit pulsing under the cotton until her vision went white at the edges. She pushed back and held him buried, shaking through it, moaning his name into the mattress while he kept rubbing, kept her stuffed, kept the orgasm rolling until she was drooling on the sheet and still clenching.

"Fuck—Rochelle—" His rhythm stuttered. He slammed in one last slow stroke and held, groaning loud, cock throbbing as he came. Hot cum flooded her ass in thick pulses, filling her while she was still climaxing, the filthy heat of it making her cry out again and squeeze down to keep every drop. He kept circling her clit through the aftershocks, grinding deep, emptying himself in her inexperienced hole until he was spent and shaking against her ass.

They stayed locked like that, both panting, his cum plugged inside her by the thick base of his cock. When the shaking eased he eased out carefully, inch by inch, and she whimpered at the sudden emptiness, feeling his load start to leak from her stretched rim. He reached for the warm cloth he had set on the nightstand earlier, wiped her gently, cleaning lube and cum from her ass without rushing her, then tugged her panties back up over the pad and pulled her into his chest.

Rochelle curled against him, ass still fluttering, clit sore and satisfied, and laughed once, breathless and filthy. "I loved giving you my ass even on my period," she said, voice wrecked. "Loved you stuffing your cock in there while my pussy stayed off-limits." She reached back, pressed two fingers to her leaking hole, and pushed his cum back in. "Now keep this load in my ass, husband. I'm not done being your third-time anal slut, and I want you hard again so you can fuck the rest of your cum deeper before it all drips out."