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A few nights ago, I had sex while on my period. And not when I was on the tail end of of my cycle, but when it had just started in a fury of blood and sensitivity.
It’s kind of a big deal. What’s even more monumental is that I thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it. It was so, so good, and I kind of want to have sex on my period all the time now.
Of course, you should know that it wasn’t always this way.
I’ve never really been too keen on having period sex. I’ve probably only done it a handful of times in my erotic life, and when I did it came from this undeniable, larger-than-me primal urge that seemed to scream from my body, “I need to fuck you, and I need to fuck you now—blood be damned!”
But even then, I couldn’t quite get connected to my body or the magic of the sex because I was far too distracted by the idea that we were making a mess—that I was making a mess—and everything would look like a crime scene.
And really, just the idea of having sex when I’m bloated and cramping and bleeding profusely from my vagina has always seemed very much unlike a good time to me. So, I stayed abstinent while on the rag for the sake of cleanliness and politeness. And if the primal urge so happened to take me over in a tsunami of lust and desire, I’d either repress it or give in and allow my partner to give me pleasure in whatever way he and I both feel comfortable, sans penetration.
The period sex that happened the other night wasn’t just an anomaly; by my personal track record, it really shouldn’t have happened at all. I had a “period headache,” I was bloated and crampy, and my body was exhausted after trying push through an active weekend in the face of these conditions.
And yet. . . I gave in to my desire and allowed myself to be seduced by my lover.
Period sex is a curious thing. It requires total surrender to your body and its funny mechanisms. It requires total trust and surrender to your partner. And it asks of you to let go of any preconceived notions you might have about the erotic being tidy, serious, or prepared for.
Perhaps that’s why I’ve always avoided it, because stopping a hot ‘n heavy makeout session to run to the toilet to pull out a tampon isn’t sexy. For me, it’s actually felt rather mortifying, and that mortification and the leaving of the room can destroy the rhythm of the moment—that is, if you let it.
The other night, I don’t know why but I didn’t let it. I chose to make it playful, to keep it all very lighthearted. When I left the room to empty my DivaCup, I knew that his eyes were on me, that he was watching me walk away. So I swished my hips and swayed lightly, and with my movements I begged him to keep looking.
And after I had finished with my cup, I brought a towel from the bathroom (to keep from messing up the sheets) and walked towards the bedroom again, my eyes fixed on him and his body which was ready for me, and I did a tiny dance with the towel, a smile playing on my lips.
I don’t know what got into me, and I’m not quite sure why it felt this light. I usually shudder at the thought of all this blatant and contrived preparation with sex, feeling embarrassment rush to my cheeks and choke my movements toward seduction. But that night, everything seemed to flow.
I have a theory about period sex—that because my body is already in a natural state of release, all of me, every cell in my body, is relaxed, fluid, ready to surrender. During sex, I was unclenched and open; I allowed all of him to enter me, and enjoyed feeling the totality of him inside me. I felt everything more intensely. It was joyful, delicious, intoxicating.
And as for the “mess”. . . it didn’t even cross my mind until afterward, when we had finished and I was sweaty and he was smiley, and he pulled himself out from inside of me and I saw what we had done. In that moment, I swooned.
His crimsoned dick, his belly spotted with my blood, might be (surprisingly) my favorite part of period sex. Maybe I’m gruesome, but that image is a beautiful depiction of the funny, messy nature of sex, and the sheer vulnerability and trust that is required to have it at all.
By having period sex, I am destigmatizing my menstrual cycle, my moon blood. I am shaking away the notion that my body is out of order and non-functioning one week out of every month. I am liberating all of the cycles and actualizations of my erotic energy—even the ones that are untidy.
Over the summer, I was invited to an all femme’s sex party. I wanted to go so badly, and I almost did, but I had my period then. When I texted the gal who invited me that I was going to be able to make it because I was bleeding out of my vagina that weekend, she texted back enthusiastically, “Come anyway! Makes a great lube. :)”
Thinking about it now, I’m certain that if I were invited to another sex party and I was on my period, I still wouldn’t go. . . not because of my period, but because that kind of sex is really special to me, and I only want it shared with someone / people who can not only appreciate the messiness, but honor the personal symbolism behind it.
Pssst! Want to have period sex but your partner is weirded out by it? I’ve got some advice for you.