Marie looked up at Mark. She felt so hot and wet, so wicked, so IMPELLED, so excited. She wanted him badly, achingly. He was her sister's husband.

"I have my period..." her voice trailed off.

"Yeah, so?..." he asked, seeking her mouth again, finding it warm and soft and hungry.

It had been quite a party. The annual Christmas Eve get-together at her brother's had ended hours ago. It was now, in fact, just after midnight. Christmas morning.

She had flown in two days before to spend Christmas with her family. She was one of two remaining single sisters in a family of 12 siblings. 

Living in Vancouver, she did not see her family that frequently. She worked as a hospital administrator there and flew home to Philadelphia twice each year. Once, like this, for the Holidays and once at the beginning of summer before flying to her vacation home in Scotland for the season. She made a good deal of money and had invested wisely. While not wealthy, she was single could afford the lifestyle.

She had never married though would be glad to meet the right man and settle into some sort of partnership. An experienced woman, she was sexually active in relationships, but was not a one-night-stand sort of woman. Most of the men she met never seemed right to her. Those whom she was particularly attracted to invariably turned out to be either losers of nut-cases. She could never reconcile her desire for the stray dog with marriage's requirement for the steady breadwinner. She hadn't given up trying yet, but a steady parade of alcoholics, tugboat captains, closeted cross-dressers, shiftless emigres, depressed artists, abusive laborers and the like had begun to wear her down.

Mark, the brother-in-law in this vignette: bit of a story there. He had been married to her sister, Theresa, for nearly twenty years. He was the handsome one; all of the sisters in the family (seven in all) often remarked on his good looks and muscular build over the years. He took good care of himself and was a modestly successful journalist.

Marie had never warmed to him in the first few years of his marriage to her sister. She couldn't tell why, exactly. He had always seemed indifferent to her as well; maybe that was part of it. He was also ten years her senior. That had been a big deal when they first met and she was 17, he 27. But the intervening years had made the age difference irrelevant. Now, at 37, his 45 years of age made little difference. Her oldest brother, himself 48, was married to a women 4 years Marie's junior!

Mark was especially friendly to a couple of her sisters; Ann, who got all giggly when he flirted with her and Ann's sororal twin, Jenny. Mark and Jenny had been a topic of some whispered intra-family gossip. They spent a good deal of time together and often embraced and chastely kissed at family gatherings. However, to Marie's mind it was all umfounded: Jenny was easily the least adventurous of the siblings. She also struck Marie as the LEAST likely of the sisters to stray. She simply could not imagine the two of the coupling on ANY level. "Just friends," she assured herself.

Marie and Mark had had a bit of a more recent history. It consisted largely of Mark eyeing her suggestively at the beach and at family gatherings. He did it unashamedly and with rapt interest. She found it flattering, annoying and exasperating all at the same time.

She remembered one time in particular when she had worn a garter belt and stockings rather than panty hose to a wedding. Sitting at a table near Mark and Theresa, she had caught Mark intently eyeing the spot where the top of the stocking met her naked thigh below the hem of her short skirt. She had merely cocked an eyebrow at him (it took him at least ten seconds of staring to finally realize she was looking at him). However, instead of embarrassment or shame, his face assumed a bemused look and a sly grin slid across his mouth. They held this look for several seconds before he mockingly raised an eyebrow back at her and turned back to his wife who was sitting beside him. No one else seemed to witness the brief exchange, and she felt her cheeks flush as she self-consciously smoothed the hem of her skirt over the top of the stocking.

Since that day, she had always made it a point to tell him, in veiled terms, that his advances would not be tolerated. She once went so far as to tell him a detailed story of how one of her friends had invited her to a party. The tale was narrated while Mark gave her a ride home during a snowstorm. In the story, the friend's husband, an oafish fat, hairy little man, had cupped her buttocks at the snack table and breathed on her neck. She told Mark that she had gone right up to her friend the next day and told her all about it.

"How did she react?" asked Mark.

"Um....well she won't speak to me anymore," replied Marie honestly.

"I see," said he. Then, after a long pause he offered: "Maybe she didn't WANT to know. AND, you lost a friend over it. Pity."

At that point they had reached her house and Mark stopped the car. He said goodnight and sat calmly as she got out of the car. He politely waited until he saw her open the front door and then drove away. She stood on the steps, snow falling all around her, and wondered what his last remark meant, exactly. Was there some hidden message? Something about Mark and Theresa's relationship? 

"No," she told herself. "No way in Hell."

Still, despite this unreciprocated sexual innuendo, she genuinely liked Mark. He was funny and thoughtful and supportive. He treated her sister and family well too. Still, she had a hard time balancing his suggestive maneuvers with the guy she had come to like. She sometimes dragged him out for drinks with her and her girlfriends and he always acted like a perfect gentleman; except, that is, for those moments when she caught his eyes walking over her body.

Luckily, she only saw Mark a few days each year. Somehow their pattern of friendly reunion, suggestive conduct, familial good cheer and indirect reproachment had become an ingrained thing in their relationship. Of late, however, she found herself looking forward to seeing him and the almost dizzying feel of his flirting and leering. He took her vague remonstrations gracefully and with equanimity. But his behavior toward her remained consistent.

She sometimes wondered, back up in Vancouver, why she wasn't more blunt with him. Ultimately, she always decided that it was because she had come to enjoy the little episodes. He never pawed or touched her or threatened her in any way. It was all so friendly, routine, and playful that she had become comfortable with it. She also felt, instinctively, that nothing would ever come of it unless she decided to do something about it.

Mark was always there, desirous but not pressing. She enjoyed his attention and the affirming feeling it gave her to know she was desired, even if illicitly by her sister's husband.

So, how did she find herself in her brother-in-law's arms THIS year?

Theresa had shown up for the mid-afternoon gathering with her two kids but sans Mark. Marie later found out that Mark was working and would miss the afternoon party. However, Theresa did invite Marie and Lois, the other single sister, back to her and Mark's house after the party for Christmas Eve cocktails. It was perfect as Theresa was staying with Lois, who lived a couple of miles from Theresa and Mark's house.

Mark arrived home around 9 and the four of them proceeded to talk and drink and laugh for a couple of hours. 

Then Mark gallantly drove Lois and Marie home and left. About 30 minutes later, while looking for some cigarettes, Marie realized that she had forgotten her handbag at Theresa's. 

She telephoned Theresa but Mark answered the phone, explaining that Theresa was already asleep. They would be leaving early in the morning to go to his folks' house, he said, and he would drop it off then. 

However, Marie, beginning to suffer jet lag and the onset of her period, had no desire to be awoken at 7 a.m. Therefore, she convinced him to drop it off NOW. He wasn't at all pleased, but she had been insistent and he agreed to do so.

As Marie waited, drink in hand, for him to arrive, Lois took another phone call. She then proceeded to fix her makeup and lipstick. She was going out, she announced. A hunky neighbor had called and invited her over for drinks. She apologized for not inviting Marie too, but suggested she not wait up, winking meaningfully. 

Lois was long gone when Mark arrived to find Marie alone, still wearing her clingy party dress, barefoot and stocking-less.

He was still irritated at being pulled from his home this late at night. "Mark..have some wine..." she said boldly, handing him a glass, trying to defuse his anger. He took it and his look softened. He smiled and raised the glass to her before taking a sip.

She apologized for waking them up and making him come out. Nonsense, he insisted: Theresa was asleep as were the kids. Besides, he was going to have one more drink before heading off to bed anyway when she had called.

This would normally be the time when Marie would subtly remind Mark NOT to ogle her, but he had been a perfect gentleman all evening. 

Cutting to the chase: They had sat together on a divan, toasted one another again and made some small talk in the glow of the Christmas lights. Eventually, unbidden, Mark leaned forward, stopping with his lips inches from hers. She liked this. She found his smell pleasant, manly. As they had talked, his voice, low and masculine, resonated somewhere deep within her. She wanted to touch him. She realized now that she had been flirting with him all along. She smiled and parted her lips ever-so-slightly, invitingly, and they began to tenderly kiss. The tender kisses turned more ardent as Marie began to feel Mark's shoulders and chest; he, her waist and knee. Soon they found themselves standing against the wall amidst mingling tongues and moans and sighs.

She realized that she had to stop what was happening. This man, as badly as she wanted him (and right now she wanted him ACHINGLY), was married to her sister. 

"This has gone too far," she told herself forcefully. The time was perfect, they were both ready and willing, Liz was gone and Theresa was asleep. He wouldn't be missed for the next hour or two. It was Christmas.

Just then, he reached down to stroke her thigh when she remembered her period and stopped him mid-caress, informing him of her delicate condition. She wanted to stop the whole thing before it was too late. This seemed like a good, inviolate reason.

"Don't tell me you've never made love mid-flow," he said. "I want you, Marie. You KNOW I want you," he said nibbling lightly and maddeningly along her upper lip. 

"But...Theresa...." she stammered.

"This isn't about Theresa," he said, his warm tongue licking the sensitive flesh just below her ear. 

He felt good in her arms. God, he smelled so good.

His hands found her breasts, bare beneath the draping folds of the red dress. He squeezed them firmly, lovingly, his power obvious but his touch gentle, compelling. She was wet, if not from excitement, then certainly from her period.

Thus, it was no suprise that they found themselves, minutes later standing at the foot of the guest bed. The bed was covered in dark beach towels, five in all, overlapping to cover the entire bed. Marie was horny, but she was also practical.

She had never done this before; sex during her period. Obviously, Mark was a bit more experienced in that department.

He undressed her lovingly and she lay back on the bed, her thighs closed and one arm held demurely over her breasts. She worried about the mess.

She watched him undress in the light of the white Christmas candle in the window. She had seen his body many times at the beach. However, it was so different seeing him naked and erect. She scooted up the bed as he crawled onto it. 

Despite her weak protestations, he casually opened her thighs and went down on her, blood and all. 

He kissed and licked and nibbled all around her cunt for some time. Her arousal increased. "My God," she wondered, "How did he learn to do THAT?" It was the best head she had ever had from a man, nearly but not quite rivaling a couple of women she had slept with many years ago.

He lapped all around her labia and teasingly flicked her clitoris with his warm changing tongue. Sometimes, his tongue was hard the thin; sometimes warm and strong; other times it was hot and soft as it swirled around the hood of her clit. Laying back and closing her eyes, she surrendered to the sensations his cunnilingus was giving her. Her mind began to swim as she felt the light throbbing in her lower abdomen change to a powerful electric flood. She came once, twice in quick succession then felt him extract her tampon; how had she forgotten about THAT? She felt wetness seeping from her and running down her buttocks. "Uh-oh," she said.

She looked up to see him on his knees between her open legs, holding the bloody implement before him, deeply breathing in its odor. A dark red smear of her blood marked his chin, his upper lip and one corner of his mouth. It should have been disturbing, but she found it exciting. Her years as a nurse had cured her of any squeamishness, her desire for Mark gave the experience a surreal edge.

"I'm going to bleed all over the place, Mark," she said, worried about the mess she'd make of her sister's guest bed. ("And I'm going to bleed all over YOU," she thought to herself.)

Mark smiled crookedly at her. "No, you won't," he said. He then hooked his arms under her knees and reached around the outside of her legs, his hands grasping the bottom front of her thighs just above the knee. He pulled her to him, her legs opening wider. She could feel more blood seeping from her.

He reached down and grasped his cock, moving the head in a circular pattern around her opening. He swirled the head across her clit and down between her folds, where it lodged at the bottom of her slit. He then moved it around and around and up and down...over and over again. She was wet, both from blood and her own juices. His cock head felt hard and smooth and hot against her. She panted and moaned in excitement.

"I need you to fuck me," she whispered. Instead of complying, Mark ran the bottom side of his cock up and down her slit, his balls against her ass, the cock extending along her sit and rubbing against her clit. She was so wet. She wanted him so badly.

Just as she was about to ask again, he sunk halfway into her, stopping for just a moment to reposition his weight and pull on her nipple. She felt his cock twitch inside of her, pushing upward against the roof of her cunt.

He released her nipple and grabbed her ankles, one with each hand, opening her legs wide and holding them up. Then he quickly bottomed out in her and began to fuck her with long, slow strokes. She looked up at him. His eyes were sparkling in the candle light. Her blood was a dark smear on his face and hand. She looked down and saw her nipple, suddenly cold, puckered and erect, covered with her own blood. It was too much. 

He stroked deeply into her, his cock corkscrewing into her as he twisted his hips, back and forth, in and out, over and over. His sparse public hair (he must trim it, she thought), wet with her juices and blood, rubbed slickly against her clit as his likewise juicy balls slipped over her perinium and buttocks. 

Again and again his cock rubbed against the roof of her cunt. Once more she felt the throbbing become more and more insistent before changing to a tingling wave, clenching her muscles over and over as it washed over and out of her. She came powerfully, arching her back, hands flailing to grab his waist but unable to reach him. She suppressed her moan, rendering it low and animal-like. He was no longer her brother-in-law. He was a creature, like her. His blood-slicked cock prodded and touch her in ways new to her. His public bone met her clit again and again. She came again, less forcefully before he finally stiffened, gasping, and arched his back. 

"Unnh...Marie...." he called. His cock slid deeply inside of her and he groaned, emptying himself into her. His hands, holding her legs aloft, shook and trembled but did not release her.

"No...not inside..." she pleaded, too late.

"Va-sect-o-mee" he pronounced breathlessly between orgasmic waves before collapsing onto her.

They lay together, panting. His mouth at her throat, kissing sleepily and tenderly. She could feel the slick blood on his lips and chin, causing their flesh to slide together. "Oh my God," was all she could say. Over and over.

He was quiet for a long time. Then, finally, he raised his head and gently touching her chin with his index finger, smiled warmly and whispered "fantastic."

Then, he raised himself to kneeling and slowly withdrew from her. She could feel her juices and blood mixed with his semen seeping from her. She sat up and looked at his cock. It was beautiful, if shocking. Covered in her red, red blood. The blood was thick and viscous. A gob of his semen clung to the head, but the rest was all her blood and juices. There were no clots to be seen. Blood dripped from the bottom of his scrotum and onto the towels. It aroused a feeling in her she had never experienced before. She felt compelled to suck it clean and taste her own blood, her juices, his semen. Before she could act on the impulse, Mark moved gingerly off of the bed and quickly wrapped a towel around his cock, handing her one as well.

They walked to the bathroom together and he started the shower. Her blood was all over him. He wore it like a gift.

They showered and he eventually left, kissing her with real affection and passion. Feeling cleansed, purified and well-fucked, she poured another glass of wine. Donning a robe, she walked to the window and watched his car pull away from the curb. This would forever change so many things. She wondered what and how as she hugged herself and smiled.
