[MF] I [25M] hate-fucked a Trump supporter friend [24F] on the night of the election

This summer I moved to a new town for work. It’s a decent-sized Midwestern city, the kind of place with a small but active nightlife, a few colleges, etc., but nothing crazy. I didn’t know anyone here, but for the first couple of weeks that didn’t bother me, because I was focused on making a good impression at work, especially considering the way I fucked up my previous job. (It was a complete & unmitigated disaster. Long story, though, and beside the point.)

One day I was in the office building’s cafeteria, standing in line for another dilapidated burger and mound of soggy fries, when someone shoved their fingers *hard* into each side of my abdomen, right below my ribs. I’m a fairly fit guy, but definitely on the skinny side, so I don’t have much padding there, and it was extremely uncomfortable. I leapt instinctively away and collided with an old lady, sending her tray flying. In total fight-or-flight mode, I spun around, bringing my fists up, only to see Ashley grinning back at me.

“Still ticklish, I see,” she said.

She was a blonde bombshell, five foot six, with a twist to her lips that made her look like she was perpetually suppressing a laugh. We’d been part of the same friend group in college, though I’d never known her well, partly because I couldn’t stand her boyfriend (more on him later) and partly because she’d had a long-running habit of poking and prodding me during social gatherings, like I was a chimpanzee she was experimenting on. I’d pretty much forgotten she existed.

“I’m not ticklish,” I blurted. We both knew this was a lie. I couldn’t think of anything else to say. My face was about 120 degrees Fahrenheit.

She pouted. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

I turned and helped the old lady whose meal I’d upended. Collected her yogurt cup, granola, etc. (The lady wasn’t even grateful, by the way – she gave me the nastiest look when I handed her the tray.)

When I turned back around, Ashley jumped on me with a hug. Now, I don’t have to tell you that there are two distinct species of hug. There are friend-hugs, which are quick and low-impact, and then there are intimate hugs, where the person plasters every inch of their body against yours. This was one of the latter. I stood there totally rigid, her soft body against mine, flabbergasted. When she didn’t let go immediately, I admit I popped about a 65% boner…

“Um,” I said, and hugged her back. I could feel her breasts jammed flat against me, the pressure changing slightly as she breathed.

It turned out we both worked in the building. She’d been in town for a few more months than me, but didn’t know anyone here either. We wound up friends by default. At first we only ate lunch together, but after a while we began to hang out at bars after work. She’d moved from New York City and didn’t have a car yet – walked or took the bus everywhere – so I would always drive her. She insisted on DJ’ing, and only played country music, probably because she knew it drove me nuts.

After that first hug, she didn’t show any hints of intimacy, and I soon learned that she was still dating her boyfriend from college, who we’ll call Bud. It was a southern college, and Bud was the standard southern fraternity bro, sun-tanned and buff, the kind of guy who still said “gay” when he meant “lame” and “raped” when he meant “beat.” Everyone he didn’t like was a “faggot.” Once at a party I caught him, blackout drunk, kissing another guy, but I never told anyone or held it against him – just found it amusing.

Things between Ashley and Bud were strained. He’d stayed in NYC to finish his graduate accounting degree. I got the impression there was more going on than just distance, though. Sometimes we’d be talking over drinks, and she’d be laughing, her smile this radiant masterpiece, and then she’d get a text, read it, and scowl.

Later she confessed that Bud had cheated on her before, and she suspected it was happening again.

Another thing I should mention about Ashley: she was a diehard Trump supporter. It was the peak of election season, and many of our conversations circled back to politics. Our views were diametrically opposed on basically every issue, but somehow we were able to debate without getting upset. Still, as events grew more and more detestable, I found myself getting frustrated with her.

Like, after the “Grab ’em by the pussy” tape came out, I showed up at work triumphant, certain that this would be the last straw. Over lunch I brought it up. She shrugged and said it didn’t bother her.

“How can you support someone who encourages sexual assault?” I demanded.

“Oh, fuck off,” she said. “Don’t pretend you haven’t said the same exact same shit in private.”

“I most certainly have not.”

She leaned mischievously over the table.

“Come on,” she whispered. “If you were rich and famous, and beautiful women let you, you’d do the same exact things.”

Up close I could see that her skin was flawless. I remember having to suppress an urge to brush a few stray hairs off her face. Her lips were slightly open as she waited for my response, her teeth the pristine white of fresh snow.

I lost my train of thought, and the debate ended there.

If Hillary had looked to be losing, I don’t think I could have continued being Ashley’s friend, but since everything seemed to indicate an easy Democratic victory, I stuck around, enjoying the chance to preemptively gloat. She seemed to enjoy it, the sparring, the good-natured butting of heads. When election day rolled around, we made plans to watch the results come in together, in one of the bars where we often went after work.

I came by and picked her up around eight. When I knocked on her door, she emerged wearing a tight, low-cut red dress. My jaw just about dislocated. She looked great in business attire, but this was something else. When she saw me gaping, she smirked and did a slow, theatrical spin, lingering with her butt pointed my way.

I mean, it was a great butt. The dress barely covered it. Her legs beneath were slim, smooth, and subtly muscled, plus way too long to be real. I coughed and cleared my throat, said something undoubtedly stupid, and we proceeded to the vehicle.

Well, you know the rest of the story. Hillary lost. As it became more and more obvious, I sunk lower and lower on my stool, devastated. I’d grown up in a poor neighborhood, and almost all my childhood friends were black or Hispanic. One of my friends in high school committed suicide because his parents sent him to conversion therapy. As I watched the map turn red, I thought of these people, thought of their parents and families, the tears they were undoubtedly shedding, and I admit I cried a bit myself. It just seemed so impossible that the country could have elected an open racist, a bigot, an incompetent, morally bankrupt Velveeta golem, to the presidency…

Meanwhile Ashley was grinning and whooping and shoving my shoulder. Poking me in the side again. It was her turn to gloat, and she was taking full advantage. A couple of guys at a nearby table shared her enthusiasm. One of them tossed his cowboy hat in the air and it landed next to Ashley; she walked it over to him, placed it on his head, grabbed his face, and planted a kiss on his thick lips. His arms went out, stunned, and then they moved to wrap around her, but she slipped away and returned to the stool beside me, smiling.

“You lost!” she said. “How does it feel?”

All my sadness and fear turned to fury. I gave her one viciously hateful look, slapped a twenty on the bartop, wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, and stalked out the door.

Ashley caught up as I stepped into the car.

“Hey,” she said, “come on. Don’t be a bitch.”

I jammed the key into the ignition. She clip-clopped on vertiginous heels around to the passenger side and slid inside.

“If you’d won, I wouldn’t have pouted,” she said.

“That’s because if I’d won, our country wouldn’t be completely fucked,” I said.

She laughed. “We’re the opposite of fucked! We’re going to make America great again!”

My desire to argue with her had evaporated. I turned the key and drove away.

It was a silent drive to her apartment. I pulled into a parking spot, slammed into park, and waited for her to get out.

“Hey,” she said.

I looked at her. She was biting her lower lip, squinting slightly. I refused to look below her face, though I could tell she was leaning to give me a better view of her cleavage.

“I didn’t mean to make you upset,” she said softly.

“Just get out,” I said.

“I feel really bad,” she said, and laid a hand on my thigh. “I want to apologize.”

I was disgusted to find an erection stirring. “Fuck off.”

“This is the problem with you liberals,” she murmured, her hand gliding towards my crotch. “You’re a bunch of pussies.”

Her hand closed around my dick through my pants, and it throbbed in response. I kept my hands on the wheel, gritting my teeth. Then I felt her breath on my cheek.

“I’m right here, and you’re too much of a pussy to take me,” she whispered in my ear.

I took my hands off the wheel, turned, and grabbed the sides of her face, then kissed her. Roughly, mashing my mouth against hers, probing with my tongue. I knew the form was bad, maybe unpleasant, but I didn’t care. It felt good to take control. My right hand moved to the back of her head, buried in her hair, and with my left hand I unzipped my jeans.

She gasped a little as my dick popped out of my pants. I was harder than I’d ever been, veins standing out, a bit of precum already glistening at the tip. Her hand slithered around the shaft, but before she could get a full stroke off I was pushing her head down. Her mouth closed around my dick, warm and wet, and I kept pressing her downward. I’m about seven or eight inches, and she took me almost all the way in. Her right hand gripped my thigh, and her left hand searched for purchase along my stomach, my back, the seat… I put my left hand on the back of her head and my right hand on the back of her neck and fucked her mouth.

She made little noises of enjoyment, moans and grunts, as I thrust upward and pressed her head downward, again and again. Her teeth lightly scraping my shaft made me even hungrier. My desire to dominate her battled my urge to avoid hurting her, and the more violent half of me won. I began pressing inexorably downward, holding the back of her neck so she couldn’t so much as quiver.

My dick went all the way in. Her face was in my lap, her left hand on my abs. I could feel where the back of her neck bulged slightly from the presence of my dick. I held her down.

After a second her whole body shuddered. She made a slight gulping noise and pulled away, reflexively, but I held her down. When she pulled away harder, I let her go. She came up gasping, eye makeup running, strings of saliva dripping from her mouth. Her cheeks were bright red as she stared at me, breathing hard, mouth still open.

Her eyes were wide. Before I could say or do anything, she went back down on me, rubbing the base of my shaft with a hand while she sucked aggressively, tongue swirling around my tip.

It felt amazing, but again, it only made me hungry. I put my hands on her head and neck again and pressed her down.

I’ve never been able to cum from a blowjob. After ten or fifteen minutes I couldn’t stand it any longer. I hauled her up off my dick and pulled her close, my hands tight on her slim upper arms. There was a fragility about her that made me want to break her. As she breathed, her chest rose and fell. She blinked only rarely, staring at me.

“I’m going to fuck you,” I said.

“Inside,” she breathed.

I zipped up as best as I could and pulled my shirt over my wet, throbbing cock, then followed her into her apartment.

She tried to lead me to the bedroom, but I spun her around and shoved her against the wall as the door slammed shut. Kissing her aggressively, I worked my left hand under her shirt, cupped her right breast, and flicked the nipple roughly. She moaned and melted, but I pressed my lower body against her, holding her up. My right hand pulled her dress up and worked in under her panties from behind. I squeezed her butt cheek hard. It was firm, round, impossibly smooth.

I hit her ass hard with the palm of my hand.

Then I lowered her to the floor and entered her with exactly zero thought for birth control of any kind (luckily, she turned out to have an IUD). I didn’t go slow – just jammed my full length into her all at once. She was incredibly wet – juices spilled out and drenched my balls. Her whole body went rigid, her head snapping back. I’d never realized how long her neck was. I pressed myself against her, grabbing her butt cheeks, her breasts, my mouth traveling everywhere. I sucked hard on her neck and pounded.

It wasn’t enough. I was too furious. When she tilted her head to look at me, her eyes half-lidded, her perfect red lips a wide O, I stuck a hand in her hair and pulled. Her head tilted back, exposing her neck again, and I thrust harder, grinding her into the rough carpet.

This is when she started to get really loud.

I kicked out of my jeans and maneuvered us so that my feet were against the wall, and used the extra leverage to thrust harder, knocking her whole body back with each stroke. I was still wearing my shirt, and she was still in her dress, though it was bunched up around her waist. Her firm breasts shuttled back and forth as I pounded her. Our bodies were slick with sweat.

I slapped her breasts again and again. Pinched her nipples and twisted. She writhed and moaned, clutching at my arms, her legs wrapping around me, unwrapping, and coming back again.

“Cum in me,” she shouted.

“Not yet,” I said into her ear, and thrust as deep inside as I could go.

She shrieked. I almost came right there, with her pussy grasping at me, repeatedly squeezing my dick. She hadn’t come, as far as I knew, but I didn’t care. I only wanted to use her, to punish her for everything she’d done. To keep from cumming, I pulled out and flipped her over. She eagerly assumed a doggy position, her back slightly arched to raise her round pink ass towards me.

We were still in the foyer.

I grasped her hips and entered her to the hilt. The impact sent a shockwave through her butt cheeks, and she cried out.

“Fuck me!” she shouted.

I did. I slapped her ass as I thrust into her again and again. I could feel my balls smacking against her. With one hand, I took a fistful of her long blonde hair and pulled. She arched her back like a cat. My entire pelvic area was slick with sweat and her juices. I put all my frustration and disgust into my thrusts, pounding her as hard as I could.

She froze and locked up, legs jittering. “I’m coming!” she screamed. I kept going, faster and faster, grunting with each impact. She unleashed a wordless cry, shuddered, and went limp, but I kept going. She held herself up, barely, my hand still tangled in her hair.

“*Oh – my – God,*” she said in between the thrusts.

I was incredibly close to cumming. I leaned down over her, pulling her head back by the hair to say in her ear: “I’m going to cum down your throat.”

She moaned and shuddered. I pulled out, and she spun around as I knelt, holding the base of my throbbing, wet dick. She knelt and leaned down, shoving my hand away and taking hold of the base of the shaft, her tongue going to work on the tip. She jacked me off aggressively, fast short strokes, and I felt myself about to cum. I grunted and grabbed the back of her head, then held her down as rope after rope of thick cum erupted from my dick and down her throat.

I’d never cum that hard in my life… each round of cum was a convulsion. Somehow she took it all. When I was done, breathing heavily, I let go of her head. She pulled away and opened her mouth, revealing some cum that hadn’t made it down… then, smiling, she swallowed it.

“Do you forgive me now?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Not yet,” I said, and tweaked one of her perky nipples. The dress was still bunched up around her midriff, soaked through with sweat. Her panties, which I’d pushed aside, were borderline unrecognizable. “Not even close.”

***There’s more to this story, but I already wrote way more than I intended to, so I’ll hold off on the rest unless there’s interest!***

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/5on4xk/mf_i_25m_hatefucked_a_trump_supporter_friend_24f