Hate Fuck

So, I don't know how many people are familiar with the term or idea of a "hate fuck," but it's something my friends and I have referred to all through high school, college, and even well into adulthood. For those who've never heard of it, I suppose I owe a definition, especially to avoid any misconceptions about what it is. Briefly, it is a consensual sexual encounter in which an arrogant and stuck-up female used to getting her own way in everything is gently but firmly dominated by the male. A written definition might work for some people, but I suppose the best way to really get the point across is with a story about a real-life hate fuck. So here it is.

For me, that one woman who has consistently gotten under my skin with her pretentious attitude is my brother-in-law's wife, Kim. She's one of those women who knows she's hot and, when coupled with the fact that she comes from a very well to do family, results in her walking around with her nose in the air and generally putting down all those around her who she feels do not match her standards. When she's around me and the rest of my family, which thankfully isn't very often, we tend to be the target of her off-handed and usually derogatory comments. A couple weeks ago, for example, my brother-in-law and his lovely wife visited our home for a few days as it is roughly the halfway point between their home in Georgia and their vacation home in Northern Maine. The day they arrived just happened to be the same day that Lissy, my beautiful wife, and I purchased our new car. Shortly after they arrived and had a chance to unwind from the road, we all went outside to help our guests unload their luggage. Before we brought the bags in, my brother-in-law, Chris, stopped to inspect the car, remarking at how much he liked it. As most guys probably would, Chris and I popped the hood to take a look at the engine and we continued to banter back and forth about the features of our new vehicle. Meanwhile, Kim and Lissy had moved to the trunk of their car, making small talk and waiting for Chris and I to finish. Apparently we took too long for Kim, because she abruptly interrupted our conversation.

"Chris, come on please. It's just a Chevy. Move these bags into the house; I'm tired of standing around out here."

Lissy and I glanced at each other in shock as Chris turned away from the new Tahoe and dutifully walked to the back of his Lexus, shouldered the two duffel bags Kim pointed at, and marched off towards the front door of our house. Kim slammed the trunk and strode after him, hardly looking to her left or right as she went.

Later that same night, Chris and I were sitting around having a few beers and talking about the upcoming college football season. We were in the midst of a heated but friendly debate over whether this year's national champion would come from the Southeastern Conference while the ladies talked separately. Then, Lissy, wanting to show off her knowledge of the game to her brother, (something that makes me very proud), interjected a comment about the University of Florida's prospects. She had hardly finished speaking when Kim again made her presence known.

"Well, I hope you don't expect any commentary from me on this subject," she said, getting up from her chair. "I have much better things to do with my time than waste energy and brain cells on discussing the actions of a bunch of uneducated criminal types. Come and find me when you decide to talk about something a little more stimulating." And with that, she left the room. To me, it even sounded like she stomped her feet as she headed up the stairs.

"I guess I better follow her," Chris said as he drained his bottle of beer, a hint of irritation in his voice. And up the stairs he went.

The next night, we took our guests out to dinner. In the past, we had taken Chris and Kim to one of our favorite barbecue restaurants and a return trip had become one of Chris's standing requests for when they came to visit us. We pulled into a parking spot and Chris and Kim swung in beside us. I hadn't even had time to shut the engine off when Kim rolled down her window and motioned me to do the same. I must admit, I complied with a bit of hesitancy, expecting the worst.

"I'm not eating here," she said flatly. "Don't you people have something a bit more upscale?"

At this remark, I lost my cool. I suppose it had been building for a while with her previous antics, but this was too much.

"Sure we do Kim, and I'd be happy to point them out to you, right after we're finished eating some delicious barbecue. Your husband likes this place, I like this place, and Lissy likes this place. You said you liked it too, the last few times we've been here. Quit making things harder than they need to be and go along with what the group wants. It's not all about you."

Kim stared back at me for a minute, then got out of the car and walked to the door of the restaurant.

"Nice job, baby," Lissy said, squeezing my hand.

I was worried my outburst might put a damper on the rest of the evening, but it didn't. In fact, I think it loosened things up. After dinner, we returned to the house and spent a few hours talking and relaxing. A couple times through the evening, I caught Kim looking at me a bit strangely, but I didn't think anything of it. By 11 or so, everyone retired to bed.

I arose very early the next morning and headed downstairs to the basement where I have a minigym set up. It's a treadmill, a pull-up bar mounted on the wall, and a bunch of free weights. I had just finished a good 30 minute run on the treadmill and stepped off to begin my lifting routine when I heard the door to the room creak slightly, as if someone was slowly opening it. I turned to look but didn't see anyone; the door was still pretty much closed. I selected the dumbbell I needed and moved to the lifting bench, when I heard the door creak again. This time when I looked I almost dropped the weight on my foot because of surprise. Kim stood in the doorway, wearing what looked like the bottoms to her bikini bathing suit paired with a sports bra.

"Good morning," she said a hint of nervousness in her voice. "I wanted to get a workout in, but didn't feel like going to the sports club, so I thought I'd just do it here. I hope you don't mind."

"No, not at all," I replied, stretching the truth a bit. "Are you sure this place meets your standards?"

She smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry for last night. I guess I was a bit over the top. Can you forgive me?"

"I could forgive you easier if it was just last night," I responded. "But it seems like you act like that all the time when you're around my family and I."

"I guess I am a little hard to take some times," she admitted, looking down at the floor. "Other people have said the same thing. I don't know how to change," she trailed off as if deep in thought.

"Well, you certainly do need to change some things, but you're not the only one who needs to change their behavior," I stated without really thinking about what I was doing.

"What do you mean?" she asked, moving into the room and sitting down on a folding chair in the corner.

"For one thing, your husband should stop giving in to your every demand. I believe we should treat our wives and girlfriends like princesses, but he's ridiculous. He just lets you walk right over him without blinking an eye. Does he ever take charge?"

"No, not really. I don't let him. I tend to dominate every part of the marriage."

"That's a problem," I replied. "If you don't mind me asking, what about in the bedroom?"

She blushed. "There too," she stated, "and that's actually becoming a bit of a problem."

"Why?"

"Well, don't get me wrong, it's nice to get whatever you want exactly the way you want it, most of the time. But, there are those times when I wish he'd step up and take charge. You know, change things up a bit." She paused, clearly trying to collect her thoughts. "I have to say, when you spoke to me the way you did at the restaurant, it kinda turned me on."

Now it was my turn to blush. "You never had a man take charge of things?" I asked.

"I won't say never, but it's been a REALLY long time and I almost forget what it was like."

By this time, all sorts of thoughts were running through my head and, yes, my cock was beginning to get hard. All I could think of was how great it would be to give her the opportunity to be on the receiving end of a bit of domination.

"Like I said," she continued, interrupting my thoughts, "your response to me last night made me wet and, probably the horniest I've been in a long time." She paused, "I want you to do something about it." She blushed again and looked away.

"I see," I replied. "Are you sure?"

"Very," she answered.

"Well, I don't really care what you want," I said. The smile disappeared from her face and she got up to leave. "It's about what I want and how you are going to give me exactly what I want." She stopped in the doorway.

"Now, get over here," she took two steps towards me. "No," I said, "crawl over here."

"What?" she asked, a little confused.

"You heard me, crawl over here." She complied. When she got to my feet, she sat down on the floor on her ass. I think she thought I was going to tell her to lay on her back and spread her legs for the usual missionary treatment she got from Chris, so when I told her to kneel, she was a bit caught off guard. I pulled down my shorts and underwear; the latter thoroughly soaked with sweat from my run, and positioned my now extremely hard cock just inches from her face.

"Now suck it," I commanded. She hesitated for a moment, so I gently pushed her head towards my cock. She opened her mouth and took me deep inside. It felt heavenly! It only lasted a minute, though, because she quickly pulled away, looking up at me with a bit of uncertainty in her eyes.

"Kim, I said suck it now," and again pushed her head towards my cock, this time with a little more firmness until her lips brushed against my shaft. Again I was deep inside her mouth. And this time she began to bob her head up and down. She gently began to swirl her tongue and make those soft slurping noises I love to hear so much.

"You know, I really need a shower, my cock is so sweaty and nasty. You like sucking dirty cock, though, don't you?"

She pulled her mouth away again and softly said yes. "Why don't you try that again," I replied. "This time I want you to speak in a complete sentence and I want you to have a mouthful of cock. She did as she was told, her lips and tongue struggling to say the words as they battled my cock for space in her pretty little mouth.

After another minute or so of sucking, I decided that Kim needed something a little more to really get the true taste of what it was like to be on the receiving end of orders. "Stand up and take off those panties," I commanded. She did as instructed. "Now, down on all fours. It's time you're treated like a little slut."

She giggled, "I like that," she breathed. "Make me your slut."

"You like being a slut?" I asked, kneeling down behind her and positioning the head of my cock in her slit, which was now very wet. I rubbed the shaft of my cock across her clit, listening to her breathing quicken and feeling her muscles tighten from the stimulation. "You like being a slut?" I repeated.

"Yeah, I do. Do me like a dirty little slut."

"You must have forgotten what this was all about," I said, continuing to rub my cock on her clit. "See, I'm in charge here. And that means I control everything. That includes making the decision on what you'll be called and how you'll be treated. Since you like being a slut so much, I'm changing my mind. I'm going to fuck you like the little bitch you are. How do you like that? Do you like being a little bitch?" With that I parted her pussy lips with two fingers and slammed my dick in her sopping wet cunt.

"Don't call me that," she protested, turning her head to look at me.

"Come on little bitch, move those hips for me." She did as she was told; wiggling to the left and right and then slamming her hips back to meet my thrust.

I continued to fuck her, pounding away at her tight little fuckhole, my balls slapping against the bottom of her ass. I could tell she was getting close to cumming and felt my own orgasm building. I reached up and grabbed a handful of her brown hair, stopping my thrusts as I did.

"Why are you stopping?" she asked breathlessly, wiggling her hips.

"I've stopped because your not acting like a bitch. Until you do, I'm not finishing or letting you cum."

"What do I need to do?"

"A bitch is a female dog. And I'm fucking you doggy-style. So any guesses on what you need to do?"

She didn't answer, just continued to gently rock those hips back and forth.

"Bark, bitch. I want to hear you bark. The better you bark, the harder I pound that pussy of yours."

To my surprise, she yelped a little, just like a little puppy, and I rewarded her with a few good thrusts. "Come on, if you want to cum, you need to do better than that." She barked a few times more, and I resumed thrusting. She barked a few times more and I knew she was close to cumming. I increased my speed and gave a good hard yank on the handful of hair I had been holding. She gave a short sharp scream, followed by one last bark, and then lurched backwards, her body wracked by the orgasm that washed over her. I put my hands on her hips, pushed her away, and shot my cum all over her lower back. A stream of it ran down between her ass cheeks and dripped onto the floor.

"How did you like that?" I asked.

"It was great on a number of levels," she panted. "I promise I'll be a little nicer. I really didn't like it when you called me a bitch and made me do the barking."

"I knew you wouldn't. That was the whole point. Now you know what it feels like to be ordered around all the time." I helped her to her feet and handed her the bikini bottoms before getting dressed myself and heading upstairs for a shower.