A Fine Line Between Hate And Lust

Although not paying close attention, since I was hustling Jessica, an attractive divorced woman from Accounting who was about five years my senior, I couldn't help but see Amber get shit-faced drunk. That was unusual because she normally held her liquor very well; I had not actually seen her drunk before, only high. When the three account executives I knew were interested in her and that she unmercifully teased, were helping her out of the dining room of the hotel, I thought that it might be more than liquor that was causing her malaise.

I had a classic fight in my mind between good and evil trying to decide if I would be happy that Amber would get fucked over, or despite my antipathy for her stop it. My mind was made up when Jessica apparently noticed it too and commented to me about it.

By the time that I got out of the dining room the elevator door was closing on the four of them. Fortunately it stopped on the second floor – where the guys had apparently rented a room. I ran up the stairs, with Jessica – after having discarded her high heels – right behind me. I got to them before the door to their room latched closed. I pushed it open.

"What the fuck is going on here?" I rhetorically asked, noticing that Amber was already sans blouse and bra and lying on a bed.

"None of your fucking business, Nelson," the largest of the three said, pushing me on the chest. Bad mistake; one of the submission holds that my Uncle taught me was designed for just such a circumstance. I quickly placed both of my hands over his while it was on my chest, dropped to my knees, and bent forward, breaking his wrist.

The other two jerks were rushing toward me when they suddenly stopped dead. I looked over my shoulder to see Jessica standing there with a .22 pistol in her hand, which she apparently had pulled from her purse. "Get over by the window on the other side of the room, assholes," she barked. They did as told and I dragged the moaning and screaming big guy over by them.

While Jessica held her gun on them I called 911. Not surprisingly it turned out that Amber was drugged. The three jerks were arrested and fired. Jessica and I were given an award and bonus by XYZ (and Jessica got one from the NRA and she, her concealed carry permit, and pistol were featured on an NRA monthly publication cover). My Aunt, Uncle, and Mom fawned over me. My Uncle cried when he hugged me the next day before he went to pick up George and then pick up Amber from the hospital.

Jessica and I took our bonus checks and went on a long weekend together. As with Judy, Jessica and I didn't see a long term relationship in our future but we did enjoy fucking each other for about five months until our lust ran its course. My recurrent problem, however, was that often when I was fucking Jessica I pictured a drugged Amber laying on a hotel room bed with her hands tied to the bedposts as I fucked her brains out. "Not healthy," I said to myself, and it became something that I talked to my off-the-record psychologist about.

George actually genuinely thanked me after the attempted rape incident; he wasn't really any nicer to me starting soon thereafter, but at least he was genuine in his thanks. Amber, on the other hand, was still her old asshole self. While she smiled and thanked me in the presence of her parents, when they left the room she said "Even a piece of shit like you can do something right once in its life. Don't let it go to your head, asshole," before sauntering away.

_______________

It was about six months after the Christmas Party when I heard a rumor that Amber was banging a married V.P. It didn't really surprise me that she would cheat considering how selfish and horny she was, and I didn't really give a shit because I hated her and near-hated George.

A month or so after I first heard the rumor, a Conference relevant to our business was being held in a city about 800 miles away. I was recruited as the representative from XYZ engineering to attend. Imagine my surprise when about a week before the conference George asked to meet me for lunch – his treat.

After some of his normal posturing, and a perfunctory talk about the local sports teams, George got a pensive look on his face; a look that I had never seen before.

"Greg, please be honest with me in answering a few questions," he whispered.

"I'll try," I said, a little taken aback.

"You don't like Amber, do you?"

After a short delay, and a look back and forth to see who might be around, I asked "George, you're not recording this are you?"

"No," he stammered.

"Turn all your pockets inside out, and take off your suit jacket," I said. He looked at me funny but did as requested.

After an inspection I said "OK, this is not for repeat to any member of the family, but I hate the bitch. Sorry, but just thinking about her makes my skin crawl;" I left out that it also made my dick hard.

"Would you tell me if she was having an affair?"

"I might, if I had real proof," I said. "What's up?"

"I'm sensing unhappiness on her part. She may just be hanging around because according to our pre-nup..." he continued before I interrupted.

"You have a pre-nup?" I asked.

"Yeah. According to the pre-nup if she cheats before my trust fund comes in she gets no part of it. It's a lot of money – my grandparents were rich and were estranged from my father and Aunt before they died so they left everything to me in a trust fund. I get access to it two years from now."

"I'm not a P. I.," I said, though in an understanding tone, not a sarcastic one.

"I know, but you hate Amber and you have integrity, as demonstrated by that attempted rape incident. Amber is going to the same conference that you are next week. Can you please – I beg of you – tell me if you see anything hinky? I'll do whatever you want," he said in a pleading, submissive tone, much different than his normal haughty one.

I thought about it for a while. He started to say something and I just held up my hand and said "I'm thinking." Finally I decided that if she was cheating this gave me the potential revenge of introducing some misery into her life.

"OK, George," I murmured. "If I get some real information – not just supposition or rumors – at the conference that she is cheating I'll tell you about it. However, you are NEVER to disclose that to anyone, and will use my information only as a start to hire a P. I. or something, and use only the evidence from him or her if you want to divorce Amber."

"Thanks, man, thanks so much," he excitedly gurgled.

"Wait, there's more; I'm not doing this just because I hate Amber," I rejoined. "If I find out something that ends up being worthwhile and you end up getting divorced, I want $10,000 when your trust fund comes in. We go to an attorney tomorrow, establish attorney-client privilege with him or her and both of us, and then tell her or him the deal."

"You got it man, thanks!" George gushed, and then enthusiastically started eating his previously untouched lunch.

The conference went all day Tuesday, all day Wednesday, and then through about 4 p. m. on Thursday. The V. P. she was rumored to be banging, Chad Simmons, was there too. I really wasn't sure whether I was going to check up on Amber or not, but the probability was enhanced since Simmons was there. Simmons was someone who had never been nice to me, or a supporter of XYZ's Engineering Department, so bringing him down would not bother me in the least.

After a conference dinner Tuesday night I eavesdropped on Amber as she was – as I expected – talking to George on her cell phone from the hotel lobby, and telling him about how worn out she was from the day's activities and that she was going to bed early. After that I surreptitiously followed her and Simmons, and saw them – separately – both go into room 612, only a few doors down from my room, 619.

Wednesday there was a "mixer" after dinner. Simmons got sloppy drunk. As he was leaning back in a booth, shit faced, with Amber and two other women in the booth and Amber staring daggers at him, I walked over.

"Say gals," I said to the women in the booth, "It looks like I should help Mr. Simmons to his room. Do you know which one it is?"

"Fish his key card out of his pocket," Amber replied in a civil tone since the other women were present. I did and handed it to her.

"He's in 612," she said after looking at the key. I don't know if she thought that she was fooling someone since room numbers aren't on key cards, but I played along.

"Can you help me get him upstairs?" I asked Amber.

"OK," she snarled – then caught herself since two other people were around and in a pleasant voice said "That's really nice of you Cousin Greg."

After we got him into his room I smiled wickedly at Amber and said "Looks he's not going to be able to fuck you tonight; how sad for you!"

"Screw you, asshole, we're not fucking," she said very defensively.

"Then how come you spent the night here last night?" I queried.

That set her back. "Look you don't know what you're talking about."

"Maybe George will believe you, not me," I chimed back with the look of a cat that just ate a canary. I turned and walked out the door.

As I was opening the door to 619 I turned toward 612 and saw Amber watching me, with a stern expression on her face.

I showered, put a pair of clean boxers on – my normal sleep attire – and lay on the bed watching TV. There was a knock at the door. I turned off the TV and went up to the door and asked "Who is it?"

"It's Amber. We need to talk," was the reply.

I opened the door and there she stood with a bathrobe and high heels on. I couldn't tell if she was wearing anything else.

Amber brushed past me then stood at the foot of the bed.

"Greg, let me be direct,.." she started out.

"Now it's Greg, and not 'shithead' or some such insult?" I asked, smiling.

"Would you prefer that I call you that?" she said with her arms folded.

"Then I'd know that it was really you and not some cyborg look-alike," I shot back.

"OK," she replied after a pause, "shithead, let me be direct. I need for you not to tell George about Simmons. Even though you're wrong, I think that George is suspicious and shit would hit the fan."

"If you want me to listen to you, you have to be honest," I said, spelling out "honest." "Admit that you're fucking Simmons!"

If looks could kill the imaginary lightning bolts from her penetrating green eyes would have leveled me. After a full thirty seconds of me returning her stare she said "Alright, I admit that Simmons and I fucked last night. Now please, don't tell George. Think of what it would do to Mom and Dad if they found out?"

"Don't play on my love of your parents on this, bitch," I snapped. "I hate George almost as much as you so I probably wouldn't tell him except for the fact that it's Simmons that you're fucking. If it was almost anyone else at XYZ I wouldn't care."

"What's your problem with him, prick?" she responded, crossing her arms more tightly.

"He's a jerk – I guess he'd have to be to fuck you – but he also is always putting Engineering down. See if I report him to Management then he gets fired for sexual harassment, and my life in Engineering gets better. If George finds out, too, then I get back at you for the shitty way you've treated me my whole life," I said, grinning ear-to-ear.

"So if I was fucking someone else at work you wouldn't tell George?" she hesitantly replied.

"Most likely not."

"If I agree to break it off with Simmons – telling him that someone threatened a sexual harassment complaint against him – will you not tell George?"

"That's step #1," I said.

After another long pause and with a glint of realization in her eye she removed her robe, displaying her supreme naked body. "You want to fuck me, don't you asshole?" she sneered.

As I removed my boxers, displaying my rock hard cock, standing prouder than I could ever remember it, I was honest. "Yeah, since I saw you naked in the bathroom. My psychologist..."

"Your psychologist?" she interrupted.

"Yeah, my psychologist tells me that I have the most intense hate-lust reaction to you of anyone he's ever heard of, and the only way to get rid of both of them is to fuck you senseless." With that I approached her, started sucking one nipple, manhandled the other, and started rubbing her crotch with my free hand.

"I hate you, you fucking bastard," she snarled as I laid her down on my bed. Her clit was already engorged when I started sucking on it, but in a few seconds it looked like a small dick. "Looks like you're the one with the two inch cock," I chuckled. She swore at me, and those were the last words spoken for the rest of the night.

I had all ten fingers, my tongue, and my lips working on Amber's delectable pussy at the same time. "How could such a venomous creature have such a fragrant pussy?" flashed through my mind as I lapped up her sweet nectar and she spasmed with her first powerful orgasm.

After bringing her through three powerful oral orgasms, as her body was still being wracked by the third one, I unceremoniously buried my cock in her sopping wet cunt in one stroke. She screamed since my cock was almost too big for the tiniest pussy that I'd ever seen. Surprisingly, however, it wasn't a scream of pain, but of ecstasy. I was no sooner buried than she was pulsing her pussy muscles to milk my dick, squeezing her exquisite thighs around my waist, and banging back as hard as I was banging her.

If our simultaneous orgasm was an earthquake it would have been an 8+ on the Richter scale. I thought for sure that I was going to pass out and be toast until the next morning. Amber had other ideas, however, and could suck as well as she could fuck.

I got essentially zero sleep that night but for the first time in my life I had more than two orgasms in an eight hour period; four, to be exact. Amber had too many to count. It was also the first time in my experience that I fucked without kissing the woman I fucked. I tried once, but she turned her head away, and I was too busy with her consummate body to worry about it.

We had to show up at the first morning session of the conference. I showered first, got dressed, and then was sitting on the edge of the bed with my face in my hands as Amber sauntered out of the bathroom.

"Why so glum, shithead?" she asked in her normal sarcastic tone.

"The main reason is because I thought that if I fucked you once I'd get all the hate out of me and wouldn't want to fuck you again. I really, really, detest saying it; however, you are a better fuck than I thought possible in the real world, and now I have to fuck you again."

"Not until after the first conference session, pervert," she snickered.

"Just wondering, why am I a pervert, bitch?" I smiled.

"Fucking your married cousin – I'd call that perverted."

"As you so often 'delicately' pointed out when we were kids, we're not blood relatives; no 'perversion' here; I'm just fucking a great piece of ass with an obnoxious personality!" I quipped.

For some reason I was suddenly motivated to kiss her. I rose, roughly pulled her to me and passionately swapped spit with her. "You think that you can kiss me just because you're my best fuck ever?" she snarled.

That backhanded – though highly laudatory – comment was about the only complimentary thing she ever said to me in my life.

"Fuck yeah," I replied, kissing her again.

After the conference session we ate breakfast. I extended my room for Thursday night while Amber moved her clothes from her room into mine. As she was moving her clothes I called George on his cell phone – a number he had given me specifically for that purpose.

"Hey, George, I've got good news and bad news," was my cliché opening.

"Shit!" he exclaimed. "Give me the bad news first."

"Amber will be staying over one more night because the conference is going late and she has been given some more responsibility. She and I are working on a project together today. When she calls to tell you act surprised, but I wanted you to know that it's not because of hanky-panky with the guy who I thought was the most likely suspect for her to be having an affair with!"

"Awesome," he virtually giggled. "What's the good news?"

"I saw her slap a guy who came on to her, and I never witnessed her screwing around with anyone else despite opportunities to do so."

"Thanks, man, I'm in your debt. That means you won't be getting $10,000 though," he snickered.

"Always the asshole, George," I thought to myself but didn't say. "No, but I thought about it some more and figured that reporting to you was the right thing to do, so I would have declined the money even if the news were different."

"I'll figure some way to make it up to you," he chirped.

After Amber called George we put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door, and with the exception of when we passed out from exhaustion a few times, and our room service dinner, tried to fuck each other to death. This time it was with kissing.

Our hotel fuck fest was almost three months ago. Since then Amber and I continue to insult each other daily, and continue to fuck, normally three times a week. I really would like to stop but can't for two reasons.

The first reason is that she is my best fuck ever, by such a wide margin that there isn't even a second place in sight. In fact, impossibly, the sex keeps getting better!

The second reason is that the scientists doing the lust-hate study are writing a paper solely about my relationship with her (anonymously, of course). They interview me by phone every week, and I've even talked Amber into giving them her thoughts on a weekly basis too. We don't tell each other what we say to the psychologist and other scientists, and they don't tell us what the other one said either. That's too bad since although it's easy to figure out why I hate her, I'd really like to know why she hates me (if she really does).

I'm still trying to come to grips with my feelings. I honestly do hate the bitch, but when I'm lustfully pounding her cunt I'm on a natural Mt. Everest high! For now, I'm just following around my cock and her pussy and not agonizing about it!