Hate Fuck Buddies

It was the first warm day of June, the first one which actually felt like summer. Even though the sunset was well underway, the temperature was still over 15 degrees. That was certainly a relief for Brynn, given her attire.

It had been two years since she'd finished law school, but she remembered the university campus like the back of her hand. The paved paths wound like snakes between a mix of old and new buildings, but Brynn didn't take a single wrong turn. It proved a handy shortcut to get back to her apartment, even though she was irked by the catcalls drunken students made as she hurried past.

It was her fault, really. She had lingered too long at Comic-Con with her friends. They'd had a blast getting dressed up, getting high, and enjoying their anonymity. Brynn in particular had appreciated the latter. It had been one of the longest two weeks of her life, and she needed a breather from all the politicking and campaigning.

The shiny Batwoman costume clung to her body as she hurried along. Her black cape swished and flapped against her as she walked. She'd modelled her long brown curls around Javicia Leslie's look on the show. The black and red of the costume seemed to elevate the caramel shade of her skin.

She was still feeling the effects of the edible as she walked along, relieved that she wasn't the only cosplayer walking through the campus. Other girls had worn more revealing costumes, so she managed to elude most of the attention. It didn't hurt that she was taller than average and a former athlete in school.

Her mom had suggested she move back into the family home while she was helping with the campaign, but Brynn had finally moved out six months before and she was finally feeling some margin of independence. She could understand why her mom had asked. The by-election was not going to be an easy one for Annelies Tillens.

It had been her party, the NDP, which had held this seat for the last five years. They hadn't won it with a wide majority in the first place, and now their support was lower than ever. The outgoing MP had been forced to resign after he, a married man, had been outed as a serial cheater. The scandal had been a godsend for the PPC.

Nobody would have ever imagined that the PPC of all goddamn parties would have surged so thoroughly in the polls. But Conservative voters were shifting further right, and Claude Waggoner had driven more people in that direction. Brynn's mother, Annelies, had seized the chance to run as Waggoner's replacement. Nobody in the NDP envied her chances.

Brynn hated that it had to be this way. Her mother had spent so long grinding away to break into politics. Brynn might not have agreed with Annelies' decision, but she could understand why. When else would she get the chance? Brynn couldn't say anything except promise that she'd help her mom get elected.

This had been a much-needed day off from all the fundraising, posters, speeches, events, scheduling, organizing, all of it. For once she didn't have to put on a brave face and speak so positively about her mom's dying campaign. Annelies was too proud and too stubborn to see the truth. No, she was fighting a good fight, and she was being brave. And if she needed another reason why she wanted her mom to win, it was to put Warren Hayes in his place.

She wouldn't have thought he was hard to beat. Warren had been a PC party member for the first two decades of his political career, and had served as the Minister of the Solicitor General. According to Annelies, Warren had run for the leadership of his party five times and had failed each time. He was too boorish, too bullying, and too blunt, even for his fellow conservatives to stomach. But he'd developed a following, especially in the rise of right wing populism. He'd abandoned the Conservatives with gusto and joined the fledgeling provincial branch of the PPC. Brynn didn't doubt that the party had practically draped the leadership sash on his neck on the day he first arrived.

Annelies had plenty of stories about Warren. They had regularly crossed paths ever since she'd become a politician. They had clashed on practically everything, and now that Brynn was helping out with the campaign, she could understand why Annelies spoke of him with such loathing. Losing to him would surely break her, and Brynn was determined to help her mom win.

But for now, her main goal was to get back to her apartment before she got too high. She'd foolishly taken another edible when she'd left Comic Con, forgetting that she couldn't put her faith in the bus system. Now, after more than forty minutes of waiting at bus stops and storming off after too many car honks, she was finally nearing her home. But to do it she'd had to cut through her old university, and she was furious about it.

Warren Hayes was a longtime alumnus and supporter of the university. Due to his military record and position as a government official, he had been invited as a guest speaker at several events when Brynn was a student. She had attended each one and booed him with gusto. Once, during her last year of law school, he had seemed to see her and given a familiar smirk. She had often wondered if he'd recognised her.

Now, the university was holding a prestigious charity event, and Warren had been invited as one of the guests of honour. She had no wish to see him, especially while she was dressed the way she was.

The problem was that the gala event was being held in the main hall. It was a huge building which was a ghastly blend of classical and modern architecture. Brynn made a left turn and tried to walk around the hall, skirting the main entrance to go down the shadowed alley between the main hall and the Smit-Vanger Residence building.

Even from outside, Brynn could hear the crowd inside. There must be over a thousand people in there, she thought to herself. She wondered how many of them would vote for Warren, to the point that she lost track of where she was walking. Therefore, it was a shock to her when she bumped into someone else.

"Watch it!"

Brynn gaped; the man had his back turned, but she recognised that voice immediately.

Warren Hayes turned around and stared at her, equally taken aback for a moment. Then he frowned and peered forward. "Wait... I know you."

Brynn felt her skin crawl with with contempt as she took a half-step backward. Warren Hayes was fifty-six years old, but he looked ten years younger. He had always been vain about his appearance; he kept himself physically fit and bragged about his training regimen whenever he had the chance. He also bragged about how he'd almost gotten drafted into the NHL as a young man, but Brynn didn't know if that was true.

"You don't." Brynn cursed herself. She should have just pushed past him and walked away. But now she'd talked; she still had a South African accent, just like her mother. Annelies was a white Afrikaner whose family had a history of protesting against the apartheid regime. Moreover, Brynn's father had been a mixed race politician in Nelston Mandela's government, hence her own mottled background.

No sooner had she spoken than Warren realised who she was. His eyebrows shot upwards and he gave a burst of laughter.

"Are you serious?" He looked her up and down as she folded his arms. "Brynn Tillens? What the fuck are you doing?"

"I was at Comic Con," Brynn began to explain, but Warren interrupted her.

"My fucking god, of course you pick that costume of all costumes." He shook his head. "I almost didn't recognise it, to be honest. How long did that show last again?"

"Longer than you've been party leader," Brynn snapped, "Enjoy it while it lasts!"

If anything, that only amused Warren even more. "Bold talk coming from you! How many times is your mom gonna ignore the truth? Nobody wants her!"

Brynn felt herself getting hot with anger beneath her costume. The pot in her system was amplifying her senses, as well as making her brain go haywire at the worst time.

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" She folded her arms, refusing to walk away without getting the last word.

"Says the grown woman in a Halloween costume," Warren retorted. "What's this supposed to accomplish? This is the dumbest ambush I've ever seen!"

She felt herself growing more flushed than ever. She wanted to put him down with some kind of insult, but she felt too hazy to put the right words together.

"I'm not here for you," Brynn countered angrily. "I wouldn't be hiding out in a costume for that!"

"Oh no," Warren retorted after another contemptuous snort. "No, you'd just come in and try to boo me to death!" He smirked broadly at her. "Did you really pay money just to boo at me? Who do you think was that helping?"

Brynn's jaw clenched. It was true that she'd paid money for the privilege of seeing him speak. She'd done it to sabotage him, to challenge him, to destroy his notion of an echo chamber. That's what she'd told her friends, anyway. It had seemed like the best explanation for such a rash action.

"I stand by it," Brynn declared, but that only made Warren laugh again. "What are you doing out here anyway? Your event ended this fast?"

"Nice try, sweetheart," Warren taunted. "See, unlike your mother, I don't go around making everything about me."

Finally, Brynn had a reason to laugh. She doubled over, wheezing from the effort as she held her sides.

"That pot kick in, huh?" Warren seemed utterly unfazed that she was mocking his hypocrisy. If anything, he seemed to be smiling harder.

it was then that she realised her costume had slipped, and she was showing some of her long cleavage as she bent over. All her amusement vanished as she straightened up, pulling her costume back in place.

"Fucking pervert," she accused. A part of her realised she could use this against him later on. Maybe Annelies could use that as an anecdote in an upcoming debate.

"Oh now who's the hypocrite, huh?" Warren leaned against the building with utter carelessness. Brynn was reminded of a teacher she'd crushed on back in high school.

She had always had a thing for older guys. Boys her age were much too immature. They whined when she beat them in sports, they laughed at her accent, they spread stories about her. The problem was that the worst story had been true.

She had slept with her high school coach when she was about to graduate. He'd helped secure her a scholarship, and he'd always been an encouraging mentor. It had made sense that she'd developed feelings for him. It had also made sense to indulge in what she wanted; why should she be bound by the patriarchy's demand for modesty and virtue? It had been an act of defiance to have sex with her coach, to let him take her from behind.

Now she stood before a man who, if he hadn't ever spoken to her before, and if she'd never known about his political views, she would have gladly followed to his bed, and shown him just how liberated she was. It had made her resentment of Warren all the more infuriating.

"What's wrong, slut?" Warren taunted. "Is that a bad word now? Or is it just a one-way thing for your own ego? You get to flounce around in that costume, but we're the pigs if we appreciate the view?"

"I can wear whatever I want," Brynn snapped.

Warren pretended to think as he scratched his chin. "What was that your mother once said? Was it 'freedom of expression' doesn't mean 'freedom of consequences'?"

Brynn had no retort for that; Annelies had indeed said it in regards to a hate speech incident. The offender had tried to claim freedom of expression as he'd walked around wearing a shirt with an insensitive joke on it. The fact that Warren was now using it against Brynn was galling. He wasn't quite as idiotic as Annelies claimed.

"What's the matter, Brynn?" Warren asked as the sky above them darkened into a dark red. It was a sweet spot in time where the outside building lights hadn't yet gone on, but the shadows were at their longest. Brynn had to squint to see his face as he leaned against a corner of the building, hidden from sight from anyone looking into the alley.

"Nothing," Brynn muttered resentfully.

"Aw, you're sad the debate didn't go your way?" Warren snorted with contempt. "Cry me a river. At least I don't posture around like you and your mom acting like my shit doesn't stink. And I also live by my own code, I'm not embarrassed by it!"

"I'm not embarrassed!" Brynn had to stop herself from shouting; the last thing she wanted was for anyone else in that building to see her. Just the thought of the others coming out and joining Warren in ridiculing her... "I've been part of ten Slut Walks! I'm not ashamed of my desires!"

"Oh yeah?" Warren laughed. "You wanna claim you're such a feminist? You wanna be a proud slut? Prove it right now!" He moved his legs further apart; that was all he did, but he didn't need to convey himself any clearer than that.

And Brynn, much to her own astonishment, didn't walk away. She didn't start screaming at him for daring to talk to her like that with such a vulgar demand.

Instead, Byrnn knelt down and began to undo his belt buckle with a furious haste. She didn't know if it was the weed, her own mix of emotions, or the sheer confidence which radiated from his being. But something made her kneel down in the narrow alleyway to prove herself to his challenge.

His cock was already straightening and growing when she put her hands on it. She only paused for a moment before leaning forward and pushing as much of his shaft in her mouth. She glared defiantly up at him as he grinned wolfishly down at her.

"Look at that," he observed in a lower voice. "You showed me."

"MMMMM" Brynn knew that it had been a doomed enterprise. He could claim a victory either way. She saw that now as she sucked him off. Her shame and fury caused her to suck faster, determined to wipe that smile off his face. But it only seemed to widen as he grabbed two handfuls of her hair. He pulled her back and forth with more enthusiasm, even spitting on her face to prompt more growls and grunts.

"What a fucking bimbo bitch," he gasped, thrusting his hips forward to push himself deeper into her mouth. "You really are too stupid to see this is what you wanted all along."

Brynn truly hated him in that moment. She hated him more than she'd ever hated anyone in her life. More than the father whom she'd never known. More than the boy who'd shared a naughty selfie of hers across the internet when she broke up with him. More than the girls in school who'd joked about her being mixed-race. She hated him because he'd run roughshod over her points, made her feel stupid, triggered her at every turn, and who'd talked her into sucking him off while he was living it up with his country club buddies. And the worst part was that he was right about her. She was turned on, whether she liked it or not.

She continued to suck him off, gripping his muscular legs with both hands for balance. His musk was especially pungent, and she wondered when had been the last time he'd washed himself. She felt his spittle sliding down her face and trickling down beneath her costume.

"Maybe if Batwoman did more of this, she'd have kept her fucking show on the air," he growled, no longer smiling. His thrusts became faster, and Brynn felt herself growing more excited in anticipation.

There was something truly thrilling about this, much as she didn't want to admit it out loud. Sometimes, after she'd heard him give one of his hateful speeches, she had sometimes invented naughty fantasies about him and her, but never dared admit it to anyone, even herself. Now it was happening, and her eyes widened as the first rope of warm cum shot down her throat.

She broke away, coughing in surprise, even as another rope hit her cheek. Blinking rapidly, she still managed to see him grab his shaft and jerk himself off to finish the job. She spluttered as more cum landed on her skin, on her costume, and into her hair.

"F-fuck," she gasped once she'd cleared her throat. "It's gonna take me fucking hours to..." She didn't finish that thought aloud; his laugh was bad enough as it was.

"You're skipping a step, slut," Warren reminded her. "Enjoy walking back home through the city first!"

Brynn sprang back to her feet, but she was rooted to the spot. She hadn't thought of that, and now she panicked at the thought of strangers seeing her stained with cum.

"Tell you what," Warren continued. "How about I drive you back home?"

Brynn felt disgusted with him and with herself, but she'd gone too far to turn back now. "Yours or mine?"

Warren raised an appreciative eyebrow. "Guess you're a slut after all." He took her shoulder, spun her around, then lifted up her cape with one hand even as his other hand slapped her on the ass. She squealed, first out of surprise, then out of indignity.

Laughter answered her cry, but not from Warren. She turned to see a couple of college students staring at her, pulling out phones. They couldn't see Warren, as he was still standing in a corner where the building jutted forward into the alley. But they could see her standing stupid, a hand lifting her cape up, another one spanking her ass. They couldn't recognise her by looks alone, but they could see how her mouth was in a shocked O shape, with cum sprayed on her face and costume.

"Probably easier if you come with me, right?"

Brynn knew he was right. She turned away from the college boys and hurried down the alley, followed by Warren, who was careful to avoid showing his face to the gawkers. They weren't interested in him anyway.

Soon, she was following him to his car and getting in the passenger side. She was fuming, half from embarrassment and half from confusion at her own feelings.

Warren sat beside her, and even though she kept her eyes from him, his smug triumph radiated throughout the car.

"So when did you realise it about yourself?" Warren gave one of her breasts a good squeeze when she didn't answer. "Come on, when was it?"

Brynn gave a frustrated sigh through gritted teeth. "Second year of uni. After your third visit."

"Yeah?" Warren squeezed her harder when she didn't push him away. "What was it, then? Something I said?"

Brynn grunted as she gave a shrug. "I don't know anymore. But I fucking hated it. I still do."

"You didn't have to get in the car," Warren taunted. He honked the horn at a careless driver, making Brynn jump.

"Don't do that!" She glared at him. "You want people to see me?"

"There's one way you can hide, if you're that worried," Warren observed. "But I dunno, maybe you'd hate yourself a bit too much, right? Can't let mommy down, huh?"

Brynn wanted to punch him, but instead she bent over him and undid his fly again, putting his cock in her mouth and coaxing it back to life as he continued to drive.

"You leftist daughters are all the same," Warren groaned, no longer laughing. "All that overcompensating to hide from the truth."

Brynn grunted bad-temperedly, but she didn't stop what she was doing. Even when she realised that he was simply driving around to prolong this blowjob. Time lost meaning to her as she continued, until finally his cock slowly became erect again.

"Save it," he ordered, pulling her back up by her hair. She gasped for breath as saliva dribbled onto her cheek.

"Fuck you," she whispered. But all that did was cause him to smirk.

"By the way, you should be more subtle when you get high, I could smell it all over you."

"That wasn't even me," Brynn admitted. "I hate smoking it. I only do edibles."

"Good. Those will last longer," Warren remarked.

It was then that he turned his car into the parking lot of a cheap motel where the downtown petered out into suburbs. With a jolt, Brynn realised that she recognised the motel. Her mom lived only fifteen minutes away. For all she knew, Annelies was going to drive past and see her sitting with a man she loathed. A man who was campaigning to take her seat just when she finally had a chance to serve in office.