Period Dildo

Colette sat on the couch in the apartment she shared with Alastair, thighs clamped, a ruined heating pad shoved aside. She was twenty-eight, and her period had come down hard that morning—heavy, cramping, and viciously horny. Every small shift dragged the soaked pad against her swollen cunt, and the throb between her legs refused to fade.

Alastair, thirty-one, came out of the kitchen and caught the restless grind of her hips. He set a glass of water on the table and dropped beside her, one broad hand high on her thigh. “Heavy day.”

“Heaviest,” she said. Her face was already hot. “And I can’t stop thinking about how wet I am.”

From the armchair, Gwen laughed. Gwen was twenty-six, openly kinky, and staying with them for the weekend, suitcase half-open by the door. She leaned forward with a grin that meant trouble. “I can smell you from here. Not just blood. You’re dripping, Colette. Those shorts are going dark.”

Colette’s breath snagged. She should have flushed with shame. Instead her cunt clenched, and a fresh warm spill eased out of her. “I’m swollen. Everything feels huge and slippery and I keep leaking through.”

Alastair’s thumb stroked the soft inside of her thigh. “Let us see it.”

“She’s a mess,” Gwen said, delighted. “Look at her. Sitting there squirming like she wants someone to put a hand in it.”

The teasing landed exactly where it was meant to. Colette pressed her palms to her face, then dropped them, because hiding felt pointless with both of them watching her like that.

“I want something filthy,” she said.

“Say it,” Alastair told her.

“I want to be fucked with a dildo while I’m bleeding. I want you to see the blood. I want it shoved into me while I’m this messy. Both of you.”

Gwen’s smile went sharp and hungry. “God, yes.”

Alastair’s hand tightened. “Bedroom. Towels. The thick clear one. We’re doing it.”

Colette stood on shaky legs, already aching. “Please.”

They didn’t waste time. In the bedroom Alastair yanked the comforter back and spread two dark towels across the mattress while Gwen dug the toy from the nightstand drawer—thick, clear, heavy in her hand, the kind that showed every streak once it was wet. Colette stood between them, breathing hard, and lifted her arms when Alastair tugged her shirt off. Gwen hooked her thumbs in the waistband of the shorts and peeled them down, then the ruined panties, dark and sticky, clinging before they dropped.

“On your back,” Gwen said. “Legs open. I want to look at it.”

Colette lay down on the towels, knees falling wide, and the air hit her. Blood had smeared her inner thighs in bright red streaks. Her pussy was puffy, lips parted, the hair at the edges matted dark. A fresh bead welled at her entrance and slid down toward the towel.

Gwen whistled, low. “Fuck. Look at that. Bright red and glossy. You’re swollen enough to split.”

Alastair knelt at the foot of the bed and just stared, cock already thick against his pants. “That’s obscene. You’re pouring.”

He shoved his pants down and took himself in his fist, stroking slow while Gwen climbed between Colette’s spread thighs. She dragged two fingers through the mess, coating them, then held them up so the blood shone. Colette whimpered.

“You want this in you,” Gwen said, and pressed the blunt head of the clear dildo against her cunt. It nudged, slipped in the slick, and pushed. Colette’s mouth fell open as the thick shaft sank in, stretching her, the blood making a wet sound that filled the room. Gwen worked it halfway, drew it back, and the toy came out streaked crimson, translucent silicone gone cloudy red.

“Jesus,” Alastair muttered, fist tightening. “Look at that. Your filthy bloody cunt swallowing it. Keep going. I want to see it drip off the end.”

Gwen fucked her with slow, deliberate strokes, watching the shaft disappear and reappear glazed. Each withdrawal dragged a fresh smear onto the towels. Colette’s hips rolled up to meet it, chasing the thickness, the ugly beautiful slide of it through all that heat and blood.

“Harder,” she gasped.

“Not yet,” Gwen said, twisting the toy so it rubbed her swollen walls. “I want you begging while he watches you leak all over it.”

Alastair stroked himself faster, eyes locked on the mess. “You’re disgusting, Colette. Soaked in your own period and still fucking yourself onto a toy like a desperate little slut. I can see it coating you. I can hear it. That sound is going to live in my head.”

Colette’s thighs shook. The dildo plunged deeper, Gwen’s wrist steady, blood slicking her fingers where she gripped the base. A strand of red clung between the toy and Colette’s cunt when Gwen pulled almost all the way out, then snapped as she shoved it back in.

“Please,” Colette said, voice breaking. “Both of you. Use it on me harder. I don’t care how messy it gets. Fuck me with it. I want it rough. I want you to see me come while I’m bleeding all over it.”

Gwen looked at Alastair. He nodded, cock flushed and leaking in his fist. “Do it. She asked.”

Gwen pulled the toy free with a wet sound and stood long enough to buckle it into the harness she’d brought, because of course she had. The clear shaft jutted from her hips, already streaked and shining, blood drying in thin lines along the veins molded into the silicone. She climbed back onto the bed, shoved Colette’s knees up, and lined herself up.

“You sure?” Gwen asked, the head nudging her entrance again.

“Yes,” Colette said. “Fuck me.”

Gwen sank in to the hilt in one long push. Colette cried out, back arching, the thickness filling her completely, blood squelching around the base of the harness. Gwen didn’t give her time to adjust. She drew back and slammed in, missionary, hips snapping, the towel bunching under Colette’s ass. Every thrust made a filthy sound—wet, thick, unmistakable. Red smeared Gwen’s lower belly and the tops of her thighs. She planted her hands beside Colette’s ribs and fucked her in hard, even strokes, watching her face.

“Take it,” Gwen said. “Take that bloody cock. Look how it paints me. You’re making a mess of both of us.”

Alastair swung a leg over Colette’s chest and straddled her face, knees planted on the towels. His cock hung heavy above her mouth, flushed and wet at the tip. “Open.”

She opened. He fed himself in, one hand braced on the headboard, and started to fuck her mouth in time with Gwen’s thrusts. Colette gagged once, then relaxed her throat, saliva spilling at the corners of her lips as he pushed deeper. The angle forced her to take him, nose brushing his stomach on the deeper strokes, while below her Gwen pounded her cunt without mercy.

The room filled with sound: the slap of Gwen’s hips, the choke and suck of Colette’s mouth, the wet squelch of the dildo driving through blood. Alastair looked down the length of her body and groaned.

“I can see it,” he said, voice rough. “Every time she pulls out, your pussy gapes and blood runs down your ass. You’re dripping all over the towels. Filthy girl. Suck me while she ruins you.”

Colette moaned around his cock, the vibration making him curse. Gwen reached down and smeared her fingers through the mess at Colette’s entrance, then dragged them up over her clit, rubbing hard while she kept thrusting. The pressure built fast—too much stretch, too much friction, the slick heat of her own blood making everything glide. Colette’s thighs tried to close and Gwen shoved them wider.

“Don’t you hide it,” Gwen panted. “Come on this cock. Bleed on it. I want it running down my legs.”

Alastair pulled out of her mouth just long enough for her to gasp, then pushed back in, fucking her face with shorter, meaner strokes. Spit shone on her chin. She grabbed his thigh and held on, eyes wet, body jolting with every slam of Gwen’s hips.

The orgasm hit her hard. Her cunt clamped around the toy, pulsing, and a fresh gush of blood and slick flooded out around the shaft, soaking Gwen’s harness and the towel beneath. Colette screamed around Alastair’s cock, hips bucking, and Gwen fucked her through it, not slowing, grinding deep so the base mashed her clit.

“That’s it,” Alastair growled. “Come while you choke on me. Look at you. Covered. Used.”

He pulled out, stroking himself, not finished. Gwen eased back, the dildo sliding free with a thick red strand that broke and splattered Colette’s stomach. For a moment all three of them just breathed, staring at the wreck of her—thighs painted, cunt open and glossy, chest heaving.

“Switch,” Alastair said. “I want that toy. Doggy. Now.”

Colette rolled onto her hands and knees, arms shaking, ass up. Blood ran down the inside of one thigh and dripped onto the towel. Alastair took the harness from Gwen, buckled it on with impatient hands, and knelt behind Colette. The clear shaft, darker now with her mess, nudged her swollen entrance. He gripped her hip with one hand, smeared the other through the blood on her ass, and shoved in.

She yelped, then pushed back, greedy. He set a brutal pace, hips cracking against her, the dildo plunging deep on every stroke. The sound was worse like this—louder, wetter, each withdrawal dragging a froth of red that splattered his thighs and the backs of hers. He reached under and cupped her, fingers sliding through the mess, then brought them up and wiped them across her lower back in a bright streak.

“Filthy,” he said, pounding her. “Your period all over my hands. All over this cock. I’m going to fuck it back into you until you can’t tell what’s blood and what’s come-slick.”

Gwen climbed onto the bed in front of Colette and swung a leg over, settling her cunt down over Colette’s mouth. She was soaked, not with blood but with her own arousal, swollen and hot. “Lick,” she ordered, and ground down.

Colette obeyed, tongue dragging through Gwen’s folds while Alastair hammered her from behind. Gwen rode her face, one hand in Colette’s hair, the other reaching back to smear fingers through the blood coating Colette’s ass, then bringing them to her own mouth. She sucked them clean and laughed, breathless.

“Tastes like her,” Gwen said. “God, Alastair, she’s shaking. Don’t stop. Make her come again while she eats me.”

Alastair didn’t stop. He fucked her harder, the harness slapping, one bloody hand spread across her spine to hold her down. Colette’s tongue worked frantically, muffled moans vibrating into Gwen’s cunt. Gwen rocked faster, chasing it, thighs tight around Colette’s head.

“Play with it,” Gwen gasped. “I want more on me.”

Alastair pulled almost out, gathered the mess on his fingers, and reached around to rub it over Colette’s clit in rough circles while he kept thrusting. Then he dragged those same fingers up and pressed them to Gwen’s lips. She sucked them, eyes half-shut, and came with a sharp cry, grinding down on Colette’s mouth, flooding her chin.

Colette followed a second later, cunt spasming around the dildo, another hot rush spilling out and running down Alastair’s balls and the harness. He groaned and kept going, fucking her through the aftershocks, blood and slick making everything obscenely easy. Gwen lifted off just enough to watch, chest heaving, then reached down and spread Colette’s ass with both hands so she could see the toy disappearing into that ruined, red-smeared hole.

“Again,” Gwen said. “She’s not done. Look at her pushing back. She wants it mean.”

Alastair gave it to her. He hauled Colette’s hips higher and drove in deep, short brutal strokes that punched little broken sounds out of her. Gwen slid two fingers alongside the toy for a moment, stretching her wider, then pulled them out coated and wiped them across Colette’s cheek, across her mouth. Colette licked them clean without being told, eyes glassy, and Gwen kissed the taste off her own fingers before shoving them back into Colette’s mouth for her to suck.

“Greedy,” Gwen murmured. “Our messy girl. Bleeding all over his cock and still begging with her hips.”

Alastair’s rhythm broke. He slammed in and held, grinding, the base of the toy mashed against her, and Colette came a third time—smaller, sharper, a full-body tremor that made her arms give out. She dropped to her elbows, face in the towel, ass still up, and he fucked the last of it out of her in long, dragging strokes until she was whimpering and oversensitive and still pushing back for more.

He pulled out at last. The dildo shone, streaked and dripping. Colette’s cunt fluttered, open, a slow spill of bright red running down to the towel. Gwen dragged two fingers through it and held them up, then smeared the mess across Colette’s lips again. Alastair stripped the harness off, cock aching and untouched by anything but his own hand and the sight of her, and stroked himself hard while he looked at the wreck they’d made.

Colette stayed on her knees, trembling, thighs painted, stomach and ass and mouth marked with her own period. Gwen wiped a palm up the inside of one thigh and spread the red across Colette’s lower back in a wide, gleaming stripe. Alastair stepped closer, fist flying, and came in thick pulses across that stripe, white cutting through red, dripping down the curve of her ass to join the mess already leaking from her cunt.

Gwen laughed, low and filthy, and pushed two fingers back into Colette’s swollen, blood-slick hole, fucking the mix of come and period deeper while Colette moaned and spread her knees wider on the ruined towels.

“Keep it in,” Gwen said, and Colette clenched around those fingers, dripping, used, and still hungry. “That’s our good bloody slut—stuffed full and leaking all over the bed.”