Hate Squared

This story is weird and has cheating; if either of those disturb you do NOT READ THIS STORY; I disclaim all liability for strokes!

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It almost makes me have a stroke to think about it but my life was influenced much more than it should have been by hate -- hate for a rival of mine in High School. You would have thought that after I became an adult that I would outgrow it -- but it only seemed to worsen. It seemed that Breck Walsh -- me -- and Dirk Weber -- my antagonist -- were doomed to be locked in mortal combat forever like a pair of mythical gods of war.

A few of hundreds of scenarios are all that are needed to make the point that our hate was destined to be never-ending:

Our sophomore year in High School we both were courting the same girl, Gail Powers. Dirk was pissed that she apparently liked me better than she liked him. I'm not sure exactly how he did it -- he probably paid a hacker since he didn't have the skills to do it himself but his family did have money -- but at some point child porn appeared on my computer in a folder that I had never seen before. Somehow the police were tipped off to it, they confiscated my computer, and I spent several days in juvenile detention until a lawyer my parents hired got a computer expert to analysis the situation and prove that it had been implanted in my computer with a virus from an outside source. It ruined my reputation for a long time, and any chance I had with Gail was long gone. The smirks that Dirk gave me left no doubt in who was behind it.

My junior year in High School a rumor started that my mother was fucking the principal. I was incensed and went to the principal about it and told him that my belief was that it was started by Dirk. The principal was pissed and did his own investigation but refused to tell me the results. I knew what the results were, however, without being told when Dirk was suspended from school for a week. While he was on suspension I caught him at a baseball diamond on a Saturday and beat the shit out of him. Unfortunately that got me arrested but when all the facts came out the prosecutor refused to indict me for assault and even by the time Dirk's suspension was over he still had a black eye.

Our senior year in High School I found dog shit, and cow shit, in my locker on more than one occasion each, in some cases ruining my clothes or notebooks. Dirk's smug look made it clear who was behind it.

Long distance things continued in college even though we went to ones that were miles apart, and some bad rumor or another about me was always percolating in our home town, making it difficult for me to obtain or keep summer jobs.

Like I said those are only some of hundreds of examples; but note that I haven't told you about any of the things I did to Dirk to make him hate me as much as I hated him. That's because this is my story and I'd rather not reveal what a jerk that I was/am. I will tell one story, however, because I think that it shows me to be a better man than he is despite some of the shit that I pulled.

When I was home during the summer between my sophomore and junior years in college I was working at the local country club, doing shit work that only summer college kids would do, including at shit hours. Dirk's mom Denise had a drinking problem, which was an embarrassment to him. Apparently one Saturday night she got into a fight with her husband; she accused him of cheating (I don't know if he did or not) and after he stormed out she got blasted in a basement, out-of-the-way, club bar.

I was doing some typical shit work at the club that night and when I emptied all of the trash from the bar I saw Denise apparently passed out in a booth with her head on the table. Jeremy, the bartender, wanted to close up since it was past 2 a. m. and he was gently shaking her but she wasn't responding. I went over to him and said "I'm done for the night and I know where she lives; I'll take her home if you help me get her to my car."

Jeremy was happy to oblige, and we got her into my front seat and strapped in.

As I drove Denise home evil thoughts entered my brain; you see Denise is a good-looking woman whose nickname (when Dirk wasn't around) when I was in High School was Major Cleavage.

I pulled off into a secluded spot and took some naughty photos of her, one good one with her panties pulled down, and two excellent ones with her bare east-west D cup tits exposed.

I was hoping that Dirk was there and would be totally embarrassed by his nemesis bringing his drunken mother home. However neither he nor his father was there. By then Denise was somewhat with it so while leaning her against her front door I got the keys out of her purse.

Once I got her inside I carried her into her -- fortunately -- first floor bedroom, laid her fully clothed on her back, and covered her up.

It was only the next morning when I started to feel guilty; I mean I hated Dirk and the rumor he spread about my mother, but Denise hadn't done anything to hurt me aside from giving birth to her asshole son; and if I made the photos that I took public it would hurt her a lot more than it would Dirk..

I was still wrestling about what to do with the photos I took when two days later Denise called me. I hesitantly answered. "Hello Breck; this is Denise Weber," she said when I answered; I already knew that from caller ID; I was suddenly scared.

"Hello Mrs. Weber," I hesitantly replied.

"I don't want to embarrass you, or myself any more than I already have, but I heard from Jeremy at the country club that you were the one who brought me home Saturday night when I had my meltdown."

"Shit," I said to myself, "I hope that she was too out of it to realize that I took photos of her pussy and tits." What I said to her was "I was happy to help Mrs. Weber."

We proceeded to have a ten minute conversation where she profusely and genuinely thanked me, sometimes crying she was so embarrassed. When she ended it by saying that her first session at Alcoholics Anonymous was later that week I wished her luck and swore that I'd never tell anyone about her condition that Saturday. She was actually sobbing with thanks when she terminated the call.

As soon as the call was over I deleted the photos of her from my phone; I did bask in the fact that I had a one-up on Dirk that he didn't know about -- that is until the next shitty stunt that he pulled on me. I never, ever, did tell anyone else about the Denise situation, however.

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There was a welcome time when Dirk and I had no contact, so he couldn't sabotage my relationship with the woman I ultimately married, Jennifer Sybil Quinn. Jennifer and I seemed to be compatible almost from our first meeting, and we were friends before we were lovers. A very good lover she is, too -- adventurous, passionate, and enthusiastic; plus she has prime equipment. We married after only dating -- we had been friends for a year before that -- for a year.

Jennifer considered her given name to be too common and period-placing so after we married and she started her work history she went by Sybil even though her full legal name was now Jennifer Sybil Walsh.

One odd thing about Sybil's past (I'll call her that now in this story since that is what she prefers) is that she had a situation similar to mine with a High School rival by the name of Betsy Bachman. She never talked about it in detail but from what she said it was at least 50% as bad as my situation with Dirk -- which means that it was really bad. I sugar-coated my hate for Dirk somewhat when talking with Sybil about him so she probably didn't appreciate the level of animosity that I really had, and I never told her his last name -- at least that I can recall.

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Using an alias and good backup story I became Facebook "friends" with Dirk, just to keep an eye on him so that he couldn't screw up my life but also so that maybe I could do something to screw up his. I saw that he had married a woman named Elizabeth. It disturbed me that Elizabeth Weber was good-looking; I had hoped that he got stuck with a dog, but unfortunately not. In fact, she was almost as good-looking as Sybil.

For some diabolical reason I also started following Elizabeth on her Facebook page, using a different alias and back story, pretending to be a woman. It was after about eighteen months of following her that she posted that she was starting to work for a branch of Vehement Capital, the same company that I work for. The branch that she worked at was in Milwaukee, Wisconsin about a 90 minute drive from the branch that I worked for in Evanston, Illinois just north of Chicago. Sometimes our branches worked together on projects. Initially I just filed this information away for possible future use.

As providence would have it about four months after I found out about Elizabeth Weber working for Vehement I was sent to her branch by my boss. I met with a half dozen people there, two of whom I already knew, and a new account executive; the aforesaid Elizabeth Weber. She actually looked even better than in her photos on Facebook, about 95% as good looking as Sybil. She would only have been about 90% as good looking except that she had a major set of headlights, more easily discernable live than in her photos.

I had a good meeting, and I was assigned by Elizabeth's boss to work with her and another woman from my branch and another guy from her branch, on developing an exploratory plan to possibly expand into a related business.

The group of four met twice a week, normally on Tuesday and Friday, sometimes in Milwaukee, sometimes in Evanston, and sometimes at a location between. Elizabeth and I were clearly the driving force behind the project with the vast majority of the good ideas. If it were not for the project I might have succumbed to my inner feelings of hate for Dirk and seduced Elizabeth as the ultimate one-upmanship on Dirk, much more so than the time that I had taken clandestine photos of Dirk's mom..

After the project had been going on for some time on a Friday at a location between the Evanston and Milwaukee offices we four participants decided to have dinner and drinks together since our spouses coincidentally were all doing other things that night. After a few after-dinner drinks the other two people left leaving Elizabeth and me alone. We planned on having one more drink at another location when I pulled out my wallet to settle the tab and Elizabeth noted the photograph displayed on one half of the inside of my wallet.

Elizabeth stopped movement of my hand and asked "Who's that in the photo so prominently displayed in your wallet."

"Oh, that's my wife Sybil," I proudly proclaimed.

"Can I see it up close?" she asked.

"Sure," I replied, removing the photo and handing it to Elizabeth who seemed to be studying it intently.

"What a lovely woman," Elizabeth beamed. "You said that her name is Sybil?"

"Well that's what she likes to be called. Her real first name is Jennifer, but she doesn't like it so everyone calls her by her middle name," I responded.

"Why, what's wrong with 'Jennifer' as a given name?"

"I really don't know; I met and loved her as Jennifer, but I love her equally as Sybil," I laughed.

"What was her maiden name?"

"Quinn," I replied, "why do you ask?"

"Just curious."

"So I'm curious too, what's yours?"

"So common -- Smith," Elizabeth smiled after a pause. Then she continued "Actually I shouldn't be surprised by you wife's name change. My husband did the same thing. He still goes by 'Dirk' with his family but professionally he now uses 'Carleton' as his given name -- totally made up; he thinks that it gives him more prestigious," she laughed.

I hadn't noticed that on his Facebook page but it didn't surprise me; he always was a shallow asshole. Since Elizabeth didn't seem to be shallow I wondered why she married him.

We chatted some more, decided against going for another drink after all, and for the first time Elizabeth gave me an intense hug goodbye, smashing her impressive mammaries into my chest. When we parted I was distressed that my little soldier had saluted. Fortunately I was quickly able to calm him down.

I got home before Sybil, but she returned just a few minutes later. For the first time in a while we showered together and both of us were much more amorous than usual -- I'd even say "hot." In my case I hoped that it wasn't because of Elizabeth pressing her mammaries against my chest, but regardless of the reason I took advantage of it.

By the next morning my dick and tongue were completely worn out. Fortunately it was a Saturday when we both opened our eyes almost simultaneously the next day about 10 a. m. "What got into you last night, caveman?" Sybil teased, poking me in the nose.

"This really hot slutty woman came on to me and I was powerless not to give her what she was after," I teased back, twisting one of her bare nipples.

"Ouch," she said playfully hitting me. "You almost sucked my tits dry last night, when you weren't reaming out my pussy you sex fiend. I think that I had more orgasms last night than at any other time besides our honeymoon."

"I just couldn't get enough of you," I grinned and then pressed our equally sore lips together for a quick kiss.

We awkwardly got out of bed, stumbled into the shower together and washed each other off, taking care not to abuse our sore sexual equipment. The rest of the weekend was leisurely, although we did make nice, comfortable, easy love both Saturday and Sunday nights, and fell asleep with smiles on our faces.

Shortly after that weekend our lives changed.

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Starting with our Tuesday project meeting, Elizabeth seemed to be much warmer -- almost flirty -- toward me. It didn't interfere with our work -- in fact it probably enhanced it since she and I worked more closely together after dividing up the project into component parts. The Friday of the next week Sybil was out again and so was Carleton/Dirk, so we went by ourselves for dinner and drinks.

The place we went for drinks had a dance floor and after a few fast dances Elizabeth plastered herself onto me during a slow dance. My little soldier involuntarily saluted again. When we left the establishment I walked Elizabeth to her car and after she opened the driver's door she laid a passionate kiss on me -- one that I was too emotionally weak to resist -- as she once again smashed her Grand Tetons against my chest. Then she quickly got in her car and took off.

It took most of my trip home to settle my little soldier down. Sybil and I arrived at about the same time and this time we didn't wait until we got into the shower to maul each other. For the first time in a long time I took her doggy, with some of our clothes still on and with almost no foreplay, right in the living room. She moaned, cursed, and growled most of the time when I was pistoning in and out of her at 60 mph, and out simultaneous orgasms were debilitating. We eventually dragged our asses into the shower, and then in bed proceeded to simulate the previous Friday as closely as possible.

There was one difference from the previous Friday. When we woke up -- this time closer to 11 a. m. than 10 a. m. -- I immediately felt guilt since some of the time when I was ejaculating in Sybil I was fantasizing that I was fucking Elizabeth's tits. Fortunately, by Monday morning, after mutually loving sessions Saturday and Sunday nights, I had purged my mind of Elizabeth and rationalized my guilt.

The next two Friday nights played out almost the same as the previous one, including even more passionate kisses from Elizabeth, and impossibly even more intense fuck sessions with Sybil. Then the next Friday night things changed again.

Our meeting at a location in a hotel conference room between the Evanston and Milwaukee offices ended by early afternoon since the other two participants had Friday evening plans requiring them to cut the session short. After they left, Elizabeth went full prehistoric wild woman on me.

Elizabeth quickly and efficiently removed her blouse and bra and as I was sitting on a chair (fortunately without arms) she straddled me and stuck her teardrop DDs in my face. I couldn't help myself as I mauled one tit and sucked the other. I finally gained control and pushed her partially away; I had never cheated on Sybil and never wanted to. Then she said something that brought back my old hate.

"I need you to fuck me like a real man, Breck; my fucking limped dick husband Dirk isn't getting the job done. Take me, you bastard, even if it's just once."

My mind now focused solely on my past hate for Dirk Weber. Having the chance to fuck his wife -- even if he never knew about it -- was the ultimate one-upmanship on the asshole -- especially if I did a better job than he ever did. In fact it was a dream-come-true. All thoughts of Sybil left my brain and all I could think of was burying my cock so far up Elizabeth's pussy that it tickled her tonsils.

I bounced up off the chair, spun Elizabeth around and bent her torso over so that she had to support herself on the conference room table, lifted up her skirt, pulled down her damp panties, pulled down my pants and boxers, and in one thrust buried my impossibly hard and engorged cock in her wet pussy.

I was like a bonobo on ecstasy as I banged the hell out of her while simultaneously grabbing onto both of her tits for traction and pleasure. I didn't last long, but didn't have to, to give her what she wanted; a fire-hosing so intense that after a scream she lost consciousness. Once every last globule of seminal fluid had finally left my cock, I collapsed on her back, almost comatose myself.

When we both regained complete clarity I finally pulled out, pulled up my pants while she pulled up her panties and put her bra and blouse back on. I passionately kissed her realizing that the combination of a hot big-titted woman who was the wife of my life-long nemesis had sexually inspired me like no other time in my life. There was no love, simply the epitome of primal lust.

I roughly grabbed the slut by her shoulders and said "Collect our papers. I'm going to the lobby to get us a room. I'll call you with the room number and you bring the papers up with you."

Elizabeth growled "You fucking animal," then planted a quick kiss on me, and pushed me toward the conference room door.

No more than fifteen minutes later we were naked in the shower in Room 1212; no more than fifteen minutes after that she was riding me like she wanted to rip my dick off as I mauled her otherwise flopping tits; an hour after that I was enjoying the first real titty fuck of my life while she moaned and swore as she pushed her tits together.

We eventually realized that we had to return to our spouses without looking like we were as wasted as we actually were so we cooled it, took a leisurely walk, had dinner together, and then went home after a passionate kiss, followed by rinsing our mouths out with Scope mouthwash as we giggled while somehow not swallowing it.

Despite my best efforts I'm sure that when I got home at 9:04 p. m. that I looked like I'd had a hard day. When Sybil pulled her car into the garage before I had even completely entered the house I waited for her and she looked like she had had a hard day too. We kissed passionately and even though we didn't have the energy of the previous four Friday nights I somehow was able to get it up and we had a very leisurely sexual encounter which ended with mutual orgasms that were surprisingly intense -- at least surprising to me in view of the three sperm deposits I had made in or on Elizabeth only about five hours previously.

Despite feelings of guilt, or even more disturbingly images of fucking Elizabeth's tits, invading my thoughts the rest of the weekend went very well including very rewarding love-making sessions with Sybil both Saturday and Sunday nights.